instance--a bottle which he places absolutely by itself,
would be able to find one if he tried. It seems to me that it is by
letting one's self have one's infinite--one's infinitely related
experiences, and not by cutting them off that one comes to know a God.
To find a God who is everywhere one must at least spend a part of
one's time in being everywhere one's self--in relating one's knowledge
to all knowledge.

There are various undergirding arguments and reasons, but the only way
that I really know there is an infinite God is because I am
infinite--in a small way--myself. Even the matter that has come into
the world connected with me, and that belongs to me, is infinite. If
my soul, like some dim pale light left burning within me, were merely
to creep to the boundaries of its own body, it would know there was a
God. The very flesh I live with every day is infinite flesh. From the
furthest rumors of men and women, the furthest edge of time and space
my soul has gathered dust to itself. I carry a temple about with me.
If I could do no better, and if there were need, I am my own
cathedral. I worship when I breathe. I bow down before the tick of my
pulse. I chant to the palm of my hand. The lines in the tips of my
fingers could not be duplicated in a million years. Shall any man ask
me to prove there are miracles or to put my finger on God? or to go
out into some great breath of emptiness or argument to be sure there
is a God? I am infinite. Therefore there is a God. I feel daily the
God within me. Has He not kindled the fire in my bones and out of the
burning dust warmed me before the stars--made a hearth for my soul
before them? I am at home with them. I sit daily before worlds as at
my own fireside.

I suppose there is something intolerant and impatient and a little
heartless about an optimist--especially the kind of optimism that is
based upon a simple everyday rudimentary joy in the structure of the
world. There is such a thing, I suppose, with some of us, as having a
kind of devilish pride in faith, as one would say to ordinary mortals
and creepers and considerers and arguers "Oh now just see me believe!"
We are like boys taking turns jumping in the Great Vacant Lot, seeing
which can believe the furthest. We need to be reminded that a man
cannot simply bring a little brag to God, about His world, and make a
religion out of it. I do not doubt in the least, as a matter of
theory, that I have the wrong spirit--some