rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea all that it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made of.

From the cipher of the vast material universe, the Macrocosm, we turn
away, as Faust did, with unsatisfied yearnings. Whither then shall we
turn? Where shall we grasp Nature--not the empty vision, but the warm
living form? It is in our own heart that we find a refuge from the
infinities of Space and Time--in that human heart by which we live, in
its tenderness, its joys, its fears. Here, and here alone, we find those
ultimate facts of existence which need no explanation, and which we
accept just as they are, without any questionings. Here we find an
infinite universe--no less infinite than that of Space and Time--the
universe of feeling.

From the cipher of the Macrocosm Faust turns to that of the
Earth-spirit, the spirit of human life and feeling. He is filled with a
sudden, passionate yearning to share in the joys and the sorrows and the
aspirations and the strivings of humanity:

Thou, Spirit of the Earth, art nearer.
I feel my powers loftier, clearer,
I glow, as drunk with new-made wine;
New strength I feel out in the world to dare,
The woes of earth, the bliss of earth to bear,
To fight my way, though storms around me lash,
Nor know dismay amid the shipwreck's crash.

He calls upon this Earth-spirit, the Spirit of human life. He bends all
the might of his human will to draw him down from his sphere. 'Come!' he
exclaims. 'Thou must! Thou must!--e'en should it cost my life!'
Enveloped in blinding flame the Spirit of life appears. At the
apparition Faust cowers back terrified and turns his face away. But it
is only for the moment. Stung by the contemptuous words of the phantom
he answers: 'Shall I yield to _thee_, Spectre of flame? 'Tis I, 'tis
Faust, thine equal!' The human Mind claims equality with the Spirit of
earthly life. But the phantom exclaims: 'Thou art akin to the spirit
that thou comprehendest--not to me!'--and disappears. Faust has yet to
learn a lesson that the mind of man can never learn of itself, the real
nature and meaning of human life. But he has beheld the vision of life,
he has received the baptism of fire. Henceforth he is to fight his way
through the storms of life and passion--to pass onward and upward and at
last to rise