terial laws, societies. For them all
mysteries are over; truth, and truth alone, is theirs. They who have
reached the point where their eyes discern the Sacred Portals, who, not
looking back, not uttering one regret, contemplate worlds and comprehend
their destinies, such as they keep silence, wait, and bear their final
struggles. The worst of all those struggles is the last; at the zenith
of all virtue is Resignation,--to be an exile and not lament, no longer
to delight in earthly things and yet to smile, to belong to God and yet
to stay with men! You hear the voice that cries to you, 'Advance!' Often
celestial visions of descending Angels compass you about with songs
of praise; then, tearless, uncomplaining, must you watch them as they
reascent the skies! To murmur is to forfeit all. Resignation is a fruit
that ripens at the gates of heaven. How powerful, how glorious the calm
smile, the pure brow of the resigned human creature. Radiant is the
light of that brow. They who live in its atmosphere grow purer. That
calm glance penetrates and softens. More eloquent by silence than the
prophet by speech, such beings triumph by their simple presence. Their
ears are quick to hear as a faithful dog listening for his master.
Brighter than hope, stronger than love, higher than faith, that creature
of resignation is the virgin standing on the earth, who holds for a
moment the conquered palm, then, rising heavenward, leaves behind her
the imprint of her white, pure feet. When she has passed away men flock
around and cry, 'See! See!' Sometimes God holds her still in sight,--a
figure to whose feet creep Forms and Species of Animality to be shown
their way. She wafts the light exhaling from her hair, and they see; she
speaks, and they hear. 'A miracle!' they cry. Often she triumphs in the
name of God; frightened men deny her and put her to death; smiling, she
lays down her sword and goes to the stake, having saved the Peoples.
How many a pardoned Angel has passed from martyrdom to heaven! Sinai,
Golgotha are not in this place nor in that; Angels are crucified
in every place, in every sphere. Sighs pierce to God from the whole
universe. This earth on which we live is but a single sheaf of the great
harvest; humanity is but a species in the vast garden where the flowers
of heaven are cultivated. Everywhere God is like unto Himself, and
everywhere, by prayer, it is easy to reach Him."

With these words, which fell from the lips of anothe