t shining by the terms of the scientist, and we
prate of occult physiology in the same breath with the Most High. Yet
when the soul has the divine vision it knows not it has a body. Let it
remember, and the breath of glory kindles it no more; it is once again
a captive. After all it does not make the mysteries clearer to speak in
physical terms and do violence to our intuitions. If we ever use these
centres, as fires we shall see them, or they shall well up within us
as fountains of potent sound. We may satisfy people's mind with a
sense correspondence, and their souls may yet hold aloof. We shall only
inspire by the magic of a superior beauty. Yet this too has its dangers.
"Thou hast corrupted thy wisdom by reason of thy brightness," continues
the seer. If we follow too much the elusive beauty of form we will miss
the spirit. The last secrets are for those who translate vision into
being. Does the glory fade away before you? Say truly in your heart,
"I care not. I will wear the robes I am endowed with today." You are
already become beautiful, being beyond desire and free.

Night and day no more eclipse
Friendly eyes that on us shine,
Speech from old familiar lips.
Playmates of a youth divine.

To childhood once again. We must regain the lost state. But it is to
the giant and spiritual childhood of the young immortals we must return,
when into their dear and translucent souls first fell the rays of
the father-beings. The men of old were intimates of wind and wave and
playmates of many a brightness long since forgotten. The rapture of
the fire was their rest; their out-going was still consciously through
universal being. By darkened images we may figure something vaguely
akin, as when in rare moments under the stars the big dreamy heart
of childhood is pervaded with quiet and brimmed full with love. Dear
children of the world, so tired today--so weary seeking after the light.
Would you recover strength and immortal vigor? Not one star alone, your
star, shall shed its happy light upon you, but the All you must adore.
Something intimate, secret, unspeakable, akin to thee, will emerge
silently, insensibly, and ally itself with thee as thou gatherest
thyself from the four quarters of the earth. We shall go back to the
world of the dawn, but to a brighter light than that which opened
up this wondrous story of the cycles. The forms of elder years will
reappear in our vision, the father-beings on