little, dwarfed, and stunted lives simply by
virtue of the fact that they do not realize the larger life to which
they are heirs. They have never as yet come into a knowledge of the
real identity of their true selves.

Mankind has not yet realized that the real self is one with the life of
God. Through its ignorance it has never yet opened itself to the
divine inflow, and so has never made itself a channel through which the
infinite powers and forces can manifest. When we know ourselves merely
as men, we live accordingly, and have merely the powers of men. When
we come into the realization of the fact that we are God-men, then
again we live accordingly, and have the powers of God-men. _In the
degree that we open ourselves to this divine inflow are we changed from
mere men into God-men_.

A friend has a beautiful lotus pond. A natural basin on his
estate--his farm as he always calls it--is supplied with water from a
reservoir in the foothills some distance away. A gate regulates the
flow of the water from the main that conducts it from the reservoir to
the pond. It is a spot of transcendent beauty. There, through the
days of the perfect summer weather, the lotus flowers lie full blown
upon the surface of the clear, transparent water. The June roses and
other wild flowers are continually blooming upon its banks. The birds
come here to drink and to bathe, and from early until late one can hear
the melody of their song. The bees are continually at work in this
garden of wild flowers. A beautiful grove, in which many kinds of wild
berries and many varieties of brakes and ferns grow, stretches back of
the pond as far as the eye can reach.

Our friend is a man, nay more, a God-man, a lover of his kind, and as a
consequence no notice bearing such words as "Private grounds, no
trespassing allowed," or "Trespassers will be prosecuted," stands on
his estate. But at the end of a beautiful by-way that leads through
the wildwood up to this enchanting spot, stands a notice bearing the
words "All are welcome to the Lotus Pond." All love our friend. Why?
They can't help it. He so loves them, and what is his is theirs.

Here one may often find merry groups of children at play. Here many
times tired and weary looking men and women come, and somehow, when
they go their faces wear a different expression,--the burden seems to
be lifted; and now and then I have heard them when leaving, sometimes
in a faint murmur, as