the whitest fires, have
waited for the One; they have listened for a certain voice. Their hearts
knew. There was no chance. When they were ready, the One arrived.

The lovelier we become in conduct and the higher we turn in
aspiration--the more beautifully are we prepared for the great services
of Romance. As a race we have only touched our lips to the cup of its
beauty and fruitfulness.... Would you, who understand so well what
culture has done for corn and roses, forget the mysteries of your own
great being--rush blindly as the world does into the arms that first
beckon, following the laws that have made you the most superb of
animals, forgetting the laws that have made you living souls?

I would have you study the lineage of Mary, the wonderful care with
which it was written, even to include that blent flame of earth and
heaven which was Ruth; I would have you read again the stories of
Gautama and Jesus, and of the mothers of the prophets. The stories of
the coming of Messiahs are always the greatest stories in the world....
And then we see the great stony fields of humanity--the potential mass
in which the great ones of the future are to rise. Their matings are
makeshifts; their brief honeymoons are matters from which the finer
world turns its eyes.

... For many days you have come in here quietly at this time, taking
your seats together, and listening so cheerfully to what has passed. You
know as well as I that there have been moments in which the stones of
the Chapel walls faded from our eyes, and that which we saw in each
other was not that which we see as we pass in colder moments in the
street. We have had moments here when it seemed that any thought was
easily to be comprehended--that it had but to be spoken to be
embraced.... There have been moments, too, sudden spontaneities when we
were pure givers, when there was love in our hearts for all beings, and
we were strong to answer any call.

It is not that which we pass coldly on the street that has gladdened me
so often and so strangely in your coming--but those mysteries within,
those arousings deeper than brain, that do away so peremptorily with all
systems of teacher and student; which show us one in meaning and one in
aim.... It is tragic that the romances of the world so seldom touch
these high mysteries. We feel the Old Mother drawing us together--all
her great blind forces for renewing her lands and seas and realms of
air. But we forget that the ani