not a greater Dastardism, I
hope! My brother, thou must pray for a _soul;_ struggle, as
with life-and-death energy, to get back thy soul! Know that
'religion' is no Morrison's Pill from without, but a reawakening
of thy own Self from within:--and, above all, leave me alone of
thy 'religions' and 'new religions' here and elsewhere! I am
weary of this sick croaking for a Morrison's-Pill religion; for
any and for every such. I want none such; and discern all such
to be impossible. The resuscitation of old liturgies fallen
dead; much more, the manufacture of new liturgies that will
never be alive: how hopeless Stylitisms, eremite fanaticisms and
fakeerisms; spasmodic agonistic posturemakings, and narrow,
cramped, morbid, if forever noble wrestlings: all this is not a
thing desirable to me. It is a thing the world _has_ done once,
--when its beard was not grown as now!

And yet there is, at worst, one Liturgy which does remain forever
unexceptionable: that of _Praying_ (as the old Monks did withal)
_by Working._ And indeed the Prayer which accomplished itself in
special chapels at stated hours, and went not with a man, rising
up from all his Work and Action, at all moments sanctifying the
same,--what was it ever good for? 'Work is Worship:' yes, in a
highly considerable sense,--which, in the present state of all
'worship,' who is there that can unfold! He that understands it
well, understands the Prophecy of the whole Future; the last
Evangel, which has included all others. Its cathedral the Dome
of Immensity,--hast thou seen it? coped with the star-galaxies;
paved with the green mosaic of land and ocean; and for altar,
verily, the Star-throne of the Eternal! Its litany and psalmody
the noble acts, the heroic work and suffering, and true Heart-
utterance of all the Valiant of the Sons of Men. Its choir-music
the ancient Winds and Oceans, and deep-toned, inarticulate, but
most speaking voices of Destiny and History,--supernal ever as of
old. Between two great Silences:

'Stars silent rest o o'er us,
Graves under us silent!'

Between which two great Silences, do not, as we said, all human
Noises, in the naturalest times, most preternaturally march
and roll?--

I will insert this also, in a lower strain, from Sauerteig's
_Aesthetische Springwurzel._ 'Worship?' says he: 'Before that
inane tumult of Hearsay filled men's heads, while the world lay
yet silent, and the heart true and o