The World-Priest by Leopold Schefer
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Title:The world-priest. Tr. from the German of Leopold Schefer, by Charles T. Brooks.

Author:Schefer, Leopold, 1784-1862.

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Print Source:The world-priest. Tr. from the German of Leopold Schefer, by Charles T. Brooks.

Schefer, Leopold, 1784-1862.

2 p. ., [vii]-xv, 373 p. 18 cm.

Boston,

Roberts brothers,

1873.

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THE WORLD-PRIEST.

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AUTHOR’S MOTTO. “To fill the eye with visions of God’s nearness; Open the mind with visions of God’s greatness; To fill the soul with all the Spirit’s fulness, Inward and outward man’s whole life to live, Breathing God’s peace and joy and blessedness.”

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THE WoRLD-PRIEST. Lranzlatet from the German OF LEOPOLD SCHEFER, AUTHOR OF

“TIHE LAYMAN’S BRENVI-\RY.” I ~’.-‘ I I BY CHARLES T. BROOKS. BOSTON: ROBERTS BROTIIERS. 1873.

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 7872, by ROBERTS

BROTHERS, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Waslhington.

CAMIBRIDGE: PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.

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TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE. IVE years ago, the present translator sent forth to the American public a version of the ” Layman’s Breviary.” He would not have counted that love’s labor as Zost, even had the book fallen dead on its way from the press. It had, indeed, no such fate. It cannot be said, perhaps, to have quite reached the Public yet; it has, however, found its way to a wide and still widening circle of appreciative souls. The “V

WorldPriest” followed the Breviary, in Germany, at a distance of ten years: it was publishled there in I846, when the author was sixty-two years old. It was one of the many love messages sent forth to the world from time to time out of that peaceful and pleasant country home, which had been made his by the kindness of the Muskau family, a distinguished member of which (Prince

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viii TRANSLA TOR’S PREFA CE. Piikler IMuskau) had been his early friend, and had taklen him as a companion on his Oriental tour. The writer of a Life of Schlefer, prefixed to the late editions of the Breviary, says the ” WorldPriest ” was its authlor’s ” favorite book.” It came out the year following the death of the authlor’s wife; of whom he speaks in these touching words: But, out of doors there, as much grass may grow above her head, as in the long, desolate davs and ni,ghts ever can grow; zvihiiiz, -
no grass grows over a life-crushling, real sorrow.” A sympathetic re,ader will have no difficulty in conceiving how deep a hold this affliction took upon himi, and what an elevating effect it had upon his soul, who recturs to the piece in this volume, entitled ” To the Widower,” as well as to many others on bereavement and kindred subjects. tIe will notice, indeed, how large a proportion of these poems turn upon the trials and sorrows of life, its disappointments and compensations, upon the yearn-ings and aspirations of the human heart, the imnmortality and divinity of the spirit in man. The biographer before quoted speaks of Schefer as ” the Germanest of the Geirmans;” and compares him to Angeltis SilesiLus, Jacob B6hme,

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TRANSL,I TOR’S PIREEF,4 CE. Ruickert, Go6the, and Jean Paul. The name of this last writer will be especially recalled to readers of the extraordinary dream contained in one of the pieces of this collection, entitled ” The Eagle.” A translator need not be supposed to agree with every thought or sentiment of his author. There are many things in Schefer’s poems, which, literally interpreted, may well seem wild enough.

The charge whichl would most naturally be brought against him is that of Pantheism. Now, a poet’s creed must be interpreted, not by the letter-but by the spirit. There is one sense in which Pantheism is opposed to Atheism, and means that no person or thing exists but God in the universe; but there is also another sense, in which Pantheism stands opposed to that bald and blank Jfonotheism, which gives us only a secluded and solitary God; and, in this sense, Pantheism, as the doctrine that God is in all thiings and b)eings and events, is certainly a Christian one. Such a spiritual Pantheism as Schefer’s may be more than pardoned by one who remembers Paul’s words: ” Of Him and to Him and through Him are all things.” The title of this hook might have been translated, not infelicitously, the ” Priest of Nature,” or ” of ix

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x TNRANSLA TOR’S PREFA CE. the Universe,” or ” of Humanity;” but, inasmuch as the word “Welt” has the same indeterminateness of meaning as ” World”

in English, it seemed best to render the phrase in this bald and literal manner. May this “W Vorld-Priest” find a good acceptance, and do a good work, in our Western world also!

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CONTENTS. PAGE I 3 5 6 IO I2 I7 2. 24 o,6 3I 33 3,5 36 39 42 4.5 47 5o 51

54 .56 60 Thie German People…… Consecration…… Dev-elopmient……

The Two Pow-ers….. The Light of the World.. The Teaching of the Stairs.

Thoutsand Pearls for a Teal. The Pure Stars (Zoroaster). Claimi thy Birthlright… The Past Eternityv.. This is Life Eternal…

Self-condemnation…. A Life Within and Above The WVorld Abo ve God’s Child - no Hleathein A Greater Evil than Death. It takes All to save One.

Conquest of the World. The Historical Sunrise Tile Reward of Knowledge.

The Soul’s Keeper…. The Universal Temple. Anthrooodicy……

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C COTvTENVTS. PAGE 6I 63 65 67 70 73 75 79 82 84 86 9I 94 98 IOI Io5 Io7

Io9 I I 2 I14 I‘7 II9 I2I I23 I~7 I 2,9 129 I32 I35 I39 The Couples…….

Hol- \Vrath…….. Thie Highest Paternal Joy.. Openness…….. The Bird of \VNisdomn….. Nolon and Sesostris…. Thie End of all Things… ”The DIty, of the Open Ear.. \Nhio ever put back the Sun?. Colmptlsion…….

The Saviour: Impossibilit… Divine Sense in Child’s Play. Providence arraigned…. Man’s Grief and MAother’s Love Coming homie fi-on the Burial. MIan can do his Part…. To the WVidower….. The Dead Son….

Job: or, Milan….. The Good God…. Goodness…… To the WVidow…. The Beogar-man.. The Cause of Death.l Live as an Immortal.. Perfection……

So-ro’,…… Be Content with thv Lot. T’he Long Night… The SLn-sick (A Peguan Easter Song) The Complaint cleared up….. Our God…………

Redemption from Living Death… Love to All, Faith in all Things… *i.

Xll I4I I42 I43 I47 IsI

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COVNTENTS. l PAGE I52 I,S” I4 I,5 i I 59 I62 I6S I70 173 I76 179 I82 IS4

IS5; i86 ISS I9I I92 I94 i96 193 200 203 0.5 207 208 2Io 213 214 216 2I7

21S 220 225 227 The Desperate and Reprobate… PuLt away the Sword……

Antiquity……….. To-day: the Keystone of the WVorld The Wonder-workers…… Life-A Battle…….. The Deaf and Dumb Mother…

Hope………… Memory……….. Violet’s Breath and Heaven’s Spirit.

The Highest Spirit……. Let None offend Thee!….. To the MAeek MAan……. The Might of Love……. The Worm and the Sun….. The Wealth of Wisdom….. The Inner WVant…….. Children’s Joy………. The Three Treasures of Life… Follow the Lord upon His WVays.. QLiet Greatness of the Good.. To whom thou doest Good…. The Goddess near at Hland….

Homie. the Sacristy of Heaven.. The True Life…….. The Hall of Spirits……. Perfection………. Our Own………. The Refluge of the Poor….. The Beggar-nian…….. The Saints……….. The Relics………. Thy Faith………. Love to God - God’s Love…. xiii

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CON_TE.VTS. PAGE 231 231 238 241 246 253) _, 3 255 258 260 264 269 270 273

275 279 2SI 283 285 286 288 290 294 29S 30I 304 3 I I 3IS 319 32I 323 325

328 33I 332 The Parting…….. The End………. The Itoly VTeek…….

The Last Parting-…… The Eagle……… T”he School…….

Conttentment…….. The PuLre Soul…….. Mourning for Thyself…..

Marriage………. Child and Old Man…… The Humnan Mlother… Love for All, no Love at all.. Shamne and Remorse….. The King of Day…. The Soul our’ Strong Fortress”. The Old Beggar-mnan….. The Herdsman’s Fire…. Originality……… God’s Human Life…… God’s Patience…….

God’s Goodness……. The Three Heavens…… The Holy Body and the Holy Life Health………. The Three Deaths…… The Three Festivals of Life..

The Home……… The IHouse of Life…… The Credo……… The Holy Fraternity….. The Primeval \Word….. The Three \Works…… The Clear Mystery…… xiv

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CONTENTS. PAGE 334 339 342 344 346 348 352 356 359 364 367 372 The Transitory…. The Rose for All…. The Return of all Things Agape, not “Love”.. The Sweetness of Life. The Past……. Contempt of the World. The Gleaning of Life.. Love and the World.. Wisdom……. Beauty……. The People…… xv

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE GERMAN PEOPLE. W HAT image of himself the God shall see In human eyes and understandings - what Men recognize to be God - that decides Unerringly: what way they honor Himin / And all their temples vanish in the air… The worship stammers… prophets one and all Seek vainly any true validity Of lasting merit, till the being of God, Clear and undoubted, free and cloudless, shines Before the eyes of all men, like the sun That each man knows and daily sees in heaven. No faith can save a human soul, while yet In the remotest land one being doubts, And knows more clearly what all men-believe. All nations that have lived died of their gods, And still die of them. First to give them form, And then, when so shaped forth, to worship them… That nations live for as their holy aim! And when they have their gods once ready madeThen do they die, then they themselves are dead.. Only the thought on God kept them alive. . I A

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2THE WORLD-PRIEST. So once of Isis and Osiris died Egyptian people and Egyptian priests: Their god was made and done and-they were done, Were dead. So when the Hebrews had their God, Jehovah, made - the nation passed away. And so with later nations has it fared Who figured as complete their Holy Ones. So will it henceforth with all nations fare, Who quarrel about God and sons of God, And do not feel the God in their own heart, In their own speech and in their daily life, And as their life. That race alone shall last And all the tribes of earth shall come to it The race that owns its God to be the Life Eternal-life of all and death of all. The rest were only children all, that dreamed And scribbled with their fingers on the sky. But this true God is never perfected, Grows ever greater, nearer, lovelier And blesseder,- He sinks into each heart And never dies a heart possessed of God! And with its God a people lives, with Him Grows ever greater, fairer, blesseder. 2

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CONSECRATION.3 CONSECRATION. THIS one thing dream not, that thou ever couldst Enrage a God or make him laugh at thee, When thou wast set on magnifying man, To nerve his soul with iron steadfastness Self-poised and sovereign over death and fate! For whom in truth, then, dost thou magnify?

Whom makest thou self-poised, serene and free? Sure, first of all, thyself; sure, then, a man, And others then-as surely only mnen;,And as men, unmistakably no less Than heavenly apparitions of the God! Then deem not that thou art resisting God, When thou uprisest against death and fate, And every terror that torments His world, Nay even against this mighty universe, Which, sure, holds not the spirit captive yet, That it should not conceive a nobler one, Should not forever feel its fleetingness: Yea, even pity-for the spirit itself, Which lives so on the rack of discontent, So deeply rent even by the very love Which in its holy conflict almost sinks, And groans as if on coals: “0 were it otherwise! 3

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. O were there once a pure, untroubled bliss!” Then never will the God be wroth with thee; Nay He will clothe thee as His champion With adamantine armor; crown thy head, Call thee His soul, and welcome thee at last Into His soul, when thou one day shalt come Out from that monstrous turmoil of life’s fight, That endless din… himself appeases not! And bears, against his will, and deeply scorns! 4

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DE VELOPAIENT. DEVELOPMENT. THE world, Humanity, man’s work and Life, Unfolds itself and issues forth from naught But God Himself-the heavenly Cocoon, That silently contains his power and him. Reel off the busy, restless, magic star Forever, - it shall only grow and blow More full beneath thy hand in sight of all, And nothing hast thou in thy hands but gold, And golden has thy every finger grown. So blooms the violet-colored gillyflower; The more the Gardener cuts its blossoms off, The more and ever lovelier ones it bears, And almost dies in bearing.- Such is all The service even the flower requires! such The service God requires: from Him all take His blossoms evermore and ever new! The spirits all are blossoms of the Lord; So lookest thou in silence when one fades, That has exhaled and bloomed, its little day, And now shoots forth in seed. And the new blossoms ‘Tis God alone puts forth, new primal wonders From naught but Him unfold and issue forth The world, Humanity, man’s work and Life. 5

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ITHE WORLD-PRIEST. THE TWO POWERS. T WO Powers I name to thee, that rule the world, And make the fortune and the bliss of all Who live upon the earth, and overhead On all the stars delight themselves in life. These two transcendent faculties are called: intelligence and Conscience! When the two Are one, one vision only in two eyes, Thou mightest call them then the eyes of God. The two great faculties are equipotent, For being and well-being matched in power; Rulers themselves, no ruler do they own; Free from the violence, the law, of men, None can constrain and none can fetter them, Scarce can he stir them to his greatest harm. Man must himself possess them, use them then, Else none can save him, man or heavenly one!

Thou seest the pious, good and moral man, As oft as others, wretched Innocence Is the soul’s health alone, and not the body’s. The stupidest, most ignorant of men Does wonders oft in greatness by his good heart. The shrewdest oft does shamefully bad works 6

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THE TWO PO WERS. And both live wretchedly and come to naught, For wanting, each, one of the eyes of God. Naught does it help the bad man to know all things, To understand their use, appropriate Their good to himself and turn away their harmIf he, as man, meanwhile enacts the tiger, The false and treacherous cat or the wild boar. WVhat does it help the bear in his honey tree To know: how great and glorious are ye stars! How thou dost make the spring, and winter, too, O sun, and rear aloft the rainbow’s arch! How thou oft puttest on the moon, as mask, And oftentimes the earth, to scare the moon! Naught does it help the bad man to know all things He sinks to bottom for all that, no light, No warm and golden kernel in his heart. Nor does it help the good to will good things,Stand at his door all day with open hands, And make himself a heaven of others’ woe If he, meanwhile, as man, is like the blind, \Who gropes about on earth as in the dark; For herbs, eats deadly poison; like the child, For crabs, lays hold on scorpions; who, to save His ass from drowning in the fountain, drowns Himself therein; unskilled to know the signs Of the storm’s coming, goes on board his ship, And miserably founders in the gale! Whoso, through error works and suffers harm, 7

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THE WORLD-PRIEFST. He who is not so happy as a full Knowledge of holy nature makes a man, That man has sinned against intelligence No less than he who breaks the moral law, And who is not so happy as entire Goodness and truth of heart make any man For both of them are swallowed up alike, And both go in a miserable plight Down to the pit! for the first requisite - As is the hand for labor -is a life, Worthy of God -‘ good and intelligent. Wherefore contemplate this with silent joy: In what degree man strives to know his house, Each blade of grass, to understand the use Of every power, in order not to sin Against the light, but wisely live and well, Only God’s Spirit puts that into his mind; And never could humanity forget Its heart and conscience! For prosperity Alone it lives and strives! That well it knows And without soul’twould live but half a life!

With conscience and intelligence man lives A whole life! and achieves and wins all things, Armed with the mind and with the might of God. Through ignorance and error, poor, betrayed Good men are brought to such a sorry pass Of long-lived misery, such bitter pains, Such irremediably sore remorse, 8

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THE TWO POWERS. Such sense of guilt, as ever guilt can wreak, The only proper guilt-sin against God’s Inner commands: But nature round about Is also no less holy a command Of God, and not the less an iron law, Nay even more! For sooner may the bad Be pardonedfor his sin, sooner may he Alake good his bad tlinzgs and restore his soul, Than ever any man can find a way To cure an error’s evil consequences, Who knew not, or who heeded not, a law, Of nature, sinning againist God himiself! The wounds which A’ature has in/icted naught Can cure, no penitence and no return To the firm yoke of her most holy law, To holy wisdom, to the light of God! Then honor highly God as what He is, In all His high and glorious attributes! Once own them, and He ever is at hand, To help you, like a servant in all good.

Two Powers I name to thee, that rule the world, And make the fortune and the bliss of all Who live upon the earth, and overhead On all the stars delight themselves in life. These two transcendent faculties are called: Intelligence and Conscience! When the two Are one, one vision only in two eyes, Thou mightest call them then the eyes of God. I* 9

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1THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. NTELLIGENCE, thou highest magic power, Sole wonder-worker of the universe, Thou Power of Powers over death and life, Thou Lord of every fate, of every woe, Tamer of even uttermost despair, And mitigator of each lighter grief, .Iztel/zi,ence! Who art thou, canst thou be, But God’s own insight, God’s own wisdom, given To be the Peacemaker in every breast, That can feel pain and bear the blows of fate, And so in that of man, who first of all, And last and most of all, has need of thee. Itze/lligence, thou art the world’s sole light, The sole-sufficing, beaming peace and rest, As from the sun his silver radiance streams Nothing mysterious can give man repose; Clear vision only brings him happiness, And brings it to him all unchangeable, Inalienable; for in all the heavens Is no one who can change its holy claim, And make it one word greater, one word less. To see, to understand, joins one to Truth, Unites him with the Eternal Source of things. IO

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THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. Man, understanding once his bitterest lot, Sides henceforth with the Eternal One, becomes His friend, his champion and his stadtholder, Having transfigured and refined himself To his own essence; being one with Truth, And one with God. who is the Truth itself. The Truetl -and though it seemed the terriblest, Before that presence each one bows his head With silent reverence and speechless awe; Full of tranquillity he now beholds And blesses, what just now had torn his heart, Had chilled his soul to death, had ground him down Into the dust and all things round to dust, Crushed by the rude hand of capricious power; For which the ocean had not tears enough, Eternity itself not time enough, To spend in lamentation. No piety, bowed down into the dust, No blind devotion-no, nor open-eyedCan do that service to a human soul… Not Love itself can do for thee what thou Canst, primal Light, Godlike Intelligence! Upon another’s word to rest thy faith, And were he e’er so honest, is but faith, Not understanding, is but zinorance, A hollow, unsafe inintelligence, Which makes man wretched with the smallest light.

Intelligence is each man’s sole, sure strength. I I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE TEACHING OF THE STARS. END forth a sower, who shall sow gold-dust, S And every grain of dust shall be a star Then send a hundred men - a thousand - outHundreds of thousands then-millions of years, To sow gold-dust that all shall turn to stars; Let giants in enormous mortars pound The hugest suns into clear silver-dust, To serve for star-seed to those husbandmen, And every particle swell to a star In the blue field of Heaven’s immensity Then sow down all these stars with poppy-seed, And all the grains out of the poppy-heads Again sow broadcast, let all these become Suns, earths and comets up and down through space Then hast thou reached, with the enormous sum, Not yet the smallest part of all the stars That in the broad and endless halls of heaven Shine up aloft, bloom, flash out life and live, Livedfarther back than thought can wing its flight, Wii live beyond where thought can wing its flight. (That now is to be only one day’s work!) On wings of lightning thou wouldst seek in vain To single out thy earth amidst the flare I2

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THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. With falcon eyes long years of Sirius! Thou wouldst not find thyself, if thou wert not And sawest thy earth and had thy foothold there Gazing out thence into the open heaven. Aye gaze! Look upward, inward through those depths, Far as the wing of thought will carry thee: In an enormous aged grotto, fiall Of ever-rayless znighzt-is the great feast Of Lanterns celebrated. Round about Hang the bright lanterns, fair as soap-bubbles, Illuminated and illuminating, Seen near at hand, gigantic; afar off Like glow-worms, twinkling so diminutively; Therein sit wonderful existences Who from mere habit fear not one another, Because they are themselves so singular. Whate’er is possible, that somewhere lives, Takes form, and is conjoined, made one with One, Fashioned in beauty, furnished wondrously. There seest thou giant mothers of the Gods (So wouldst thou, in thy human smallness, call them,) Who carry in their arms children of Gods, With heads full of intelligence like our gods; With eyes that pierce far solar distances, As telescopes for us bring near the stars; And they, too, also have great telescopes Whereby they live all through the circling space As thou within thy little vale of earth. Each one was born there of a mother, too, Still young, when, twenty thousand years of age, I3

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THE WORLD-PRIES T. Where, in their long protracted life, her race Have long since known what life is, known themselves, And by experience made wise and glad, In heavenly content have spent a life Unvexed, and satisfied with life have gone Down to the grave, as saints revered and blest. O what a train of noble, beauteous forms, Hundreds of millions of years long, sweeps on Across each orb in that majestic ring! For naught are they, as good as naught are all These golden worlds, compared with all the hosts That live thereon - that countless multitude Of fair and holy shapes, incessantly Descending there to grace and lad the Spring! And all the shining ones that dwell thereon Are naught compared with what tlheyfeel and do, And what through all continually is wrougtht.. Compared with all the works they execute. The fruits of this gigantic tree of Heaven! And of them all none knows the star called – Earth! Man and his generations and their works Have never, even in dream, appeared to them.

Pronounce to all in turn through the vast round The highest names, name to them all the Gods And all the saints - not one of them shall fall Upon his knees before a single name! Till thou shalt blush for very shame! But they Need nothing at our hands - all things are thleirs; Thou seest there, multiplied thousand-fold, What here below seemed to thee singular, 14

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THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. What was exalted by thee high as heavenAs if, with a poor ring upon thy finger, Thou shouldst go in to a great diamond mine, Where even a king himself would be struck dumb And feel himself a beggar.

- Thunderstruck Thou hurriest to thy home as from a house Of mourning, aye, as from a charnel-house Where all lay dead, that thou hadst loved in lifeThou foldest wife and children to thy breastThou gazest on them, claspest them again, To warm and win them back to life once more, To wake thyself out of the Dreamz of Truth! But when thou kneelest to thy nightly prayer, Thou mak’st a vow to the great God on high: “On earth I worship idols nevermore. The name of God I nevermore pronounce For awe - I bear it mutely in my breast, And gladly own His greatness in my heart. No pride shall tempt me to the thought, that we Are sole possessors of a single thing, Even the best, the highest, the only true, And all the dwellers of the stars must come Down to the earth - to this our poor hedge school..

For our philosophers, forsooth, are Gods To all the stars in the whole universe. The daring dream of man crumbles before That God who is full of heaven;‘tis buried up In that heaven full of God-and none henceforth Obstructs our sight of the great heavens again I5

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. The spirit never will resolve on death And say: Now, now, I know, I have, all things! What I may find henceforth a curse upon’t!The race of men have risen into God.” That is the holy teaching of the stars. i6

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THOUSAND PEARLS FOR A TEAR. I7 THOUSAND PEARLS FOR A TEAR. IS nothing left ” (the world asks) “to believe, To edify the heart, ravish, astound, And by its sacredness subdue the soul! Is nothing left? nothing? Then let me die! I will not be forlorn, jejune and cold, The eternal soul shall shine upon my path, A fiery column! I must reverence The heavenly! Only then my heart shall feel Its proper greatness, holiness and love! ” O world! all, all, is left that ever yet Has edified a heart, electrified, And by its sacredness subdued a soul! He lives -the great, great God - yea infinitely Greater, more glorious and more near is He Than ever He appeared to man before, Behind the thin veil of His firmament; And lo! His mansion’s high and holy lamps Up there they hang, sparkling like dew in grass! The miracles, all, all of them remain, The very doll still counterfeits the child, And all exists to him that ever was The lofty being of God: His Avatar! B

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. The coming of all beings to their birth, All round, a rich and ever-glowing Spring, The Spirit coming down into the spirits, Even the tree in blossom fails not! There Is the young swallow in her nest! There still Holy maternal Love; the Holy Mother In her eternal chasteness! and the Child! The resurrection of the living ones, The resurrection of the tribes of dead, The ascension of the dead ones into God, The still flight up into the ancient God, The daily, the eternal judgment day In all the world! the God in every soul! The death of all, who walk not righteously! The bliss that fills the souls of all the good!

And, added to these lofty things of God: Beauty, the jewel of the whole wide world, And Joy! and Love and Truth; the finding still Of wonders new and without end in God, The sense of self, the honor to be a self, To carry hence this great self-consciousness, And not begin to be immortal there No, to have lived eternally with God In every one of His old beauteous days In the one self-same and eternal moment! So has humanity all, all the old, And all the new besides, abundantly, And all new revelations of the Lord! And now man can and will have glad success, Now that he is a spirit within God’s Spirit, i8

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THOUSAND PEARLS FOR A TEAR. I9 And lives with Him the undecaying life, Wherein what seemed bestowed but once on One, Now, daily, thousand-fold distributed, To the blind mole that burrows in the ground Belongs, and to each worm, as property. Is not that better? And have we no more, Nor longer see, what always was in God! What He, as His exalted property, He the disinterested, loving Sire, Has made the property of every child: To be arrayed in majesty like Him, With Him, joint lords with Him in lordliness, Of all His wonders fellow-wonders, each, Wherein He, as eternal life, appears! Who blasphemes God, but he who dares deny His highest, most benignant attribute: Not from the least and lowliest to withhold The greatest, the most glorious, most divine Of all His gifts: His spirit, aye His life And all the goods his wondrous life contains. An earthly father does this to his child: God setting him the pattern, not he God: Doing in little what He does in great, Aye in profusion. Then rejoice in God! God lives not humanly, but men divinely. So live we now, then, in our day and hour, Holy are they as old times ever were, And holy as the starry days o’erhead!

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. And God is here; as much as anywhere! Thou canst not take thy way up to the sun… To any star, or temple, in the sky - The earthly life for thy part must thou live Down here, and let thy altar be the earth! I never yet have heard a priest stand up And preach to men, they should do wickedness, Nor with the softest whisper counsel itMan carries awe for God within his heart; A child knows what is good, being full of God, Man errs then only, when he utters names; And when he names names, think on God alone, Thou sinnest not then,‘tis he only errs. So mayst thou live with all men a pure life. Then where thou hearest any teach and preach Of God the Lord, thither make haste to go With gladness and with fervor in thy soulThou hear’st thy house - thy Father-spoken of!

And earth will be to thee thy altar then, The sun that shines on all-thy holy lamp! 20

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THE PURE STARS. THE PURE STARS. Zoroaster. W HO follows Reason, is a pious man, God’s own Religion that man practises, And’bad and base and graceless is the thing Done without reason or against it. ThatHow moral, pious, wholesome, free soe’er, It seem, which owns not reason, is ungodly. Here lives a wise old man of sixty years, A young man, still, you’d say, in beauty’s prime; And him a maiden loves beyond all else; To be his wife she’d call the height of bliss, Him too would gladden, through the lonely days And nights of his old age, so sweet a wife, And yet he looks on her as blind of heart! Infatuated! and.would hold himself Stained with the highest crime a human soul Can work against another, should he yield To this illusion-nay, this maid’s true love Make her his wife and foully…

ruin her: The glow of the young heart - the gracious form The days and nights of all her coming life - The holy bosom, which belongs alone To that true husband’s children, whom the sun… 21

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Whom equal youth marks out for her in heaven… The holy lap, which they alone can claim, Whom he can never nourish -never rear, Who soon would have in him no father more To love, and she, a widow, soon would have No husband, only tears and loneliness, And grief, with all her true and fervent love. So he untwines the feeling from his heart, Even as men loosen from a crumbling stake The grape-vine it would drag down to the earth. And yet he would not (as men say) have “sinned,” If he had taken this poor child for his wife; And all the pious priests in all the lands Would piously have blessed the marriage rite! Who follows Reason, is the pious man, He only God’s pure worship practises. How great thou art, 0

Reason! strong, divine! Thou canst be naught but God’s own proper voice, God’s knowledge and belief and love and hope, The proper meaning of the world, the law Whereby it shapes itself forevermore, Which through it shines and o’er it gently rules; For whosoe’er to reason has attained, (And by sore pains man comes into her heaven) He covets not e’en with the faintest wish The least thing, no nor yet the greatest thing, Not the most precious gift the heart can crave, Whereof the voice of this deep oracle, God’s voice, the sacred conscience of His world, 22

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THE PURE STARS. Serenely says to him: Thou dear, good man! That which thou wishest is not! cannot be, It is not so, so small: it is far greater, More glorious than thy fancy fashions it; Lift up thy mind and make thee a clean heart! Then wilt thou see all things that round thee lie Full of glad life and rich in blessedness Lovely and glorious as this universe!

Only think not so meanly of our spirit, And of His world, that owns and is His law, Simply as thou dost call thy child by name. Reason is God’s own might and majesty; It rules and sways thee with a sweet content, For it is light, and thou its spirit art; Which has within itself the peace of God.

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2THE WO/RLD-PRIEST. CLAIM THY BIRTHRIGHT. D ESPAIR not! Nay, open the door to joy! Stare not like dead men! Nay, now put on God! Imagine not, ye have lost any thing, No not a blessing, not a single dream, Far less eternal life and blessedness. The spirit of God, which on the earth ye are, Can never lose a mote of sun-bright dust; God lives not to behold by slow degrees As an old raven sees his feathers drop His treasures, glories, beauties fall from Him…. But, as from some primeval mountain’s veins, More and more lavishly to pour His gold. Believe this only: faith shall turn to sight, On them that walk through night the sun shall rise, The unsealed eyeballs of the blind shall learn To measure the remote, the grand to see. So dreamed, so spake those earlier sons of men: “Faith shall (in heavenly places) turn to sight.” And thus again an earlier Son of man: ” God’s kingdom is within you - is within.” The you means we; more than Apostles we Of God, within our hearts we bear God’s self. Within our inner being, that is, heaven, 24

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CLAI,4 THY BIRTHRIGHT. Already (as revealed and brought to pass) Already faith is ripened into sight, To contemplating and possessing God; The eye within us has become God’s eye; Our inner being has become God’s being; That in us, round us, lives and radiates heaven. So has the spirit now bethought itself. Be ye self-thoughtful souls, clear and serene, Take in the being of God in His clear truth. The priests are no more the proprietors And dolers-out of God, to make, transform, Create Him for the people… more than God! No more they manufacture God and heaven; No more thrust out to hell and endless fire! Their prayers no more absolve men from their sins; God in us, only, speaks us clean and free: Himself speaks to Himself within our souls. No more they have and hold the keys of heaven To every heavenly kingdom in each breast! No more is man led through stupidity To blessedness, which means intelligence. No more is man contented to believe… He looks, he kows,’ detects and scorns the attempt, By cunningly denying him a grave To shut him out from heaven! By the mere word Of a priest’s scorn, from endless blessedness! Of God’s free Spirit in the mind of man There is no other Lord than God himself! And each one is the light, the way to God. Despair not! nay, fling wide the door to joy! Stare not like dead men! nay, now put on God! 2 25

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‘THE WO0RLD-PRIEST. THE PAST ETERNITY. AN loves to date his being from his birth; With this late, late beginning is content, Rejoicing heartily in this, that he Did once begin to be, that he now lives. His joy that now he lives is the sole thought That makes him glad he once began to be. Yet now that he exists, he cares far more, To know if after death he still shall live, Than that he now exists, and hangs in fear, In doubt and dread and terrible suspense! He has himself embalmed; swathed like a child; Laid in sarcophagi and mummy-pits; Buried away in solid pyramids, That he one day may see the sun again.. And then still further see, what is to do, That he may live on still, while live the stars, And only with the very last expire: That he before his death may bury God, Nail up the coffin, and the golden key Of the old sunk-in tenement, the world, Fling down the deepest gulf-to nothingness. So does he trouble and torment his mind With thinking of the next eternity! 26

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THE PAST ETERNITY. The fairest, proudest, most gigantic plans The mind of man frames for futurity, Are all mere child’s play, too diminutive For flower-seed and constellation-dust To all yon thousand flower-fields of the sky, To all the stars that there have risen and shine, And all the hosts of Sons of God that throng The vista of our great futurity And all that Indian sages ever dreamed Of Paradise; all that Mohammed sang Of lovely Houris, and the rapturous sweets Of never-ending bliss; and all that Jews Have taught of endless Hallelujah-cries For ecstasy, before the face of God;… Is all mere dream and flower-seed, dim and dark, To all the glory and felicity, That every, every spirit shall possess Through all eternity; that in such clear, Bright revelation shall encircle us, As the sun pours to-day, and every morn, On all the earth, as beams from all the stars The golden balls for the fair angel-troops. - So grasping, so exacting, is the spirit, And justly, toward the universe and God, The smallest grain of dust it grudges Him, Not even an hour will give Him, not one breath! The fool! The great old purblind, one-eyed fool! Who like a Cy)clops eyes futurity! He doles oult ONE eternity to God: 27

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. TheJfrst, anteriar, long eternity, The ever-blessed and mnajestical, The ever-during life of all the days Down to the day when he himself was bornThis he complacently vouchsafes to God And never cares to ask for it again! And never prophet asked for it again! More than the beggar in the morning asks For the old straw he slept upon last night! The cunningest, most learned priests themselves, To whom all elder priests bequeathed their arts, Who know to still the cravings of all souls Care only for the first eternity, They call it children’s limzbo in the lump!

The fools I The purblind, one-eyed Cyclops they! Themselves - the dunces-in the children’s limbo. But now what sayst thou to the awful folly Of priests like these, the highest teachers too, And of the impious thoug,ht of giving God What is not worthy to be spoken ofNot worthy of a hope -
like that which builds On the eternity that is to come; Not worthy of such silent, inward thought As parents give to their poor, still-born child! I, for myself, say naught but one true word: The living God has lived through all of time, And through all times he still forever lives, His life, that only, is eternity; 28

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THE PAST ETIERNITY. His life made up the first eternity; That God now is, that also is His life, And is thy life, wilt thou distinguish still Thyself from God; but His alone, if thou Art one with God in spirit and in mind. Then hast thou lived with Himn throughout all time; Then wilt thou still with Him live through all time. The life of God, however, brings no gain, It is itself the highest treasure -else This universe itself might show a fruit, This universe would one day yield a fruit, Smnallfruit enough! For dust and dead men’s bones Are they thy fruit, 0 holy universe!

Nay,‘tis forever they alone who live, The life of God -that is the fruit of God, Nor does the death of all bereave the universe. Yet as men celebrate in the death-hour A meditation on the future, when Embarking for the next eternity, So shall humanity yet celebrate One day a festival of gratitude For thatfirst, by-gone, long eternity. And every one who knows the life of God, Will surely celebrate it in his heart, Without a priest, a temple or a church. For whosoe’er has joined himself to God, As the pure Spirit of the universe, Has entered even now that holy church, (Without a consecrating sign, or mark, Or human name, by which no one above 29

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Would recognize, but only smile and pity him) And yet is he so still, serene and calm, In holy fellowship with all God’s sons, Whom everywhere, on all the stars, He owns, Who live to give God reverence, and themselves, And walk in free, in native majesty, And scorning all the cobwebs of the brain, Subject to no one’s pity, no one’s smile, Find welcome entrance, as the sanctified, Into the great and holy house of God, And even here as pilgrims walk therein, Content and blest of God, as His own Spirit. 30

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THIS IS LIFE ETERNNAL. THIS IS LIFE ETERNAL. MAN, thou shalt live the eternal life of God. Eternity of moments is made up, Of day by day, and night by night, that so The God who lives thy life, as thou dost His, May in all moments live a life of bliss. Learn to distinguish well immortal life From everlasting, ever-lovely life To live immortal were to live a life Like that of the bright sun and all the stars, Only, like that of lightning and sea-storm, Restless and joyless, ruinous to all, And to itself;‘twere but so much the worse, Nay, horrible, if this immortal were, Immortal, never-ceasing, without end! But life eternal may be human too, Be transient, mortal, and eternal still! For hear me now with faithful, pious soul, With God’s great soul now listen as a man: Eternal life is “life in harmony With our great laws, which reign unchangeably Throughout the universe; lead all the stars And all the clouds; that shape each blade of grass And every child - true masters of the world, Working in unison, in essence One.” Even he who lives his fleeting day on earth, 3I

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TIHE WORLD-PRIEST. Lives her unending life, and so he lives The life eternal, if he wills and does What they within his soul enjoin on him, As his soul’s self; he lives the one true life Which is to all all of eternity. So grandly does the universal soul Escape the shame of mere creatorship And the reproach of dreadful fleetingness! For all that lives and moves in heaven and earth Lives, always lived, to Him eternally: Each blade of grass and every holy flower, The cloud that sails away - and the wind’s breath That steers it-and the shadow cast by it That glides along the ground, all live to Him Eternally. He the expression is Of all eternity, and is Himself Eternal, as its veritable essence. And man too lives eternally! all men! The new-born child! The very still-born, too!

Against his will, without his knowledge lives Each one eternally, as God doth live, The blessed Spirit of the universe, Who fills all beings, lives Himself in all; Else were as transitory, sadly wretched, Bevond all wretched things imaginable. Let then each heart of man be full of peace, Even as God wills, who is indwelling peace, And blessedness, eternal blessedness, Which gushes up from God in human souls, For human bosoms are the wells of God. 32

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SELF-CONDEM.AVA TION. SELF-CONDEMNATION. THAT was a false and heartless thing to say: He is unmercifully damned to hell, To pain and torment and unending woe, Who, here on earth, has disobeyed God’s law, And trodden under foot His holy will. But were a thousand lives to follow this, Yet were this life unique, forever so. - Then for the individual man in vain The universe has stood, then all in vain His mother bore him, sun and moon in vain For him have shone, yea, God himself hath spent On him for naught His labor, force and strength, Both for all time and all eternity, Who has not come, as man, to be a man, Though only simple, and of childish mind.

One human being’s loss of happiness, To him, to his, and the fair universe, Is greater, sadder, more irreparable, Than if a blight had come upon the Spring, Than if a star should, like a blasted bud, Untimely fall from the great Tree of Life. Then learn, 0 man, to fathom all the depth 2*

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3THB WORLD-PRIEST. And weigh the worth of thy momentous life! Each gleam of sunlight, every drop from heaven, Each breath of thine, is a peculiar gift; Far costlier, a thousand times more precious, Each thought, each fresh emotion of the heart! Be not astounded, every hour, at this: Else would astonishment break down thy life! No: feel it once for all with world-wide sense; Then be the thought borne in upon thy soul, Thy day of life declineth like the sun’s! To lose thyself is the extremest loss: Then hold thy life to be a sacred thing! All is to thee as thou art in thyself!

This life thou never shalt hereafter live; And sacred means secluded, singular. To win thyself is highest gain for thee, Yea, for the Spirit of the Universe. Hell is no more nor less than nothingness; Heaven is no more nor less than a right life. 34

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A4 LIFE WITHIN AND ABOVE. A LIFE WITHIN AND ABOVE. W HAT dream is this of thine, that all the dead Know more than any single man that lives, Having gone in to see the mystery Within a bright, interior heavenly hall Where all things stand revealed in perfect light? Dear soul, the dead have only gone awayGone to the place from which we all came forth, Whence they themselves once came upon the earth! The place, the house, the hall, is but the great, The universal consciousness, where each Kindles his little light, that guides his way Along this earthly road. Long ages since All living men came thence upon the earth, Nor knew they one whit more than we who live. But thiat they knew, and that they uttered forth Out of their spirit. In like manner we Have come up also from the self-same deep And know just that which all the dead folk know! It is enough then, what all living know: They know of the One Spirit in the whole, Know of our Spirit in all; which men call “God,’ And carry in their spirit what He has. Then envy not the dead, as if they knew All that which seems to thee mysterious; Nor charge thou blindness upon living men Let in upon thy soul the light of truth! 35

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE WORLD ABOVE. THE world above I call the realm of men! Higher than all the heavens themselves it is, Held up on angels’, yea, archangels’ hands, Ay, in the very lap of God himself. A holy world above is human life, Far higher than the mountain violet’s moss, Far higher than the clouds have ever swept, Far higher than where shines the highest star. This earth is an outblooming from the deep Bosom of old, eternal elements, And floats on being’s old, eternal sea And man is an outblooming from the earth, Nourished with influence sweet of all the heavens; The genuine blood of Gods is in his veins, The truest voice divine fills all his heart. A holy, inner realm is human life, Deeper than the world’s deepest mystery, Deep in the bosom of all miracles And magic; in the very heart of God. A holy, inner realm is man’s own being, The flower within the agate not so deep, Far deeper is it than the ruby’s glow, Than the heart’s feeling of the universe. And that the sun lights up the earth for thee -? 36

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THE WORLD ABOVE. The moon for thee beams through the silent night-? That slumber falls upon thy waking hours -? That in thy nightly slumbers dreams do come? Light - what a wonder-work! how still and soft, Yet inexpressibly loud a mystery, That calls more loudly than with thunder’s voice: “Io! God is here! The earth is here! The sea! The day is here -here for your gracious work! Life’s day is here for you! your only one! Never will this day shine on other men, Nor more on you! ye only, chosen ones, Privy ambassadors to this still realm, This realm of mystery,- highest upper world: The Day, the life-day of the busy soul, To you, you only known, seen clearly through, Blest, and transparent as your very heart!” But sleep is not of waking born to you Unborn ye slept through one eternityBut waking - life itself-is born of sleep; And out of waking, likewise, dreams do come. Man’s life is the true inner, upper, realm, Upon the summits of the universe. Who steefi in matter, live the outside hfe, Out on the wild sea of eternity. Acknowledge this and live as holy spirits, And holy be to you each human work, Each thought and every feeling of the heart Eternal once for all, as man, ye hover Upon this height! For once, forever, here In this interior, inmost sanctuary. 37

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. And when thou knowest this, then is the din Of day, and all the noisy work of men, To thee no more than to the sleeper’s ear The bees’-hum from their blooming linden-house; The constant change of seasons then will be To thee one steadfast time, the time of life! And lifetime, that will only be to thee The period of youth, old age, and death; Nay, the impetuous throbbing of thy heart, And thy heart’s love… ay, and the tranquil sleep Of loved ones in the grave, the one serene And holy rest for thee, in this the true Blest world above upon the bosom of God, In this interior of the sanctuary, Where dust - almost adored-to beauty grows, Where water -grows to sweet and blessed tears, And air - is an ineffably deep sigh, And the whole soul is one dissolving song; And ah!

this common earth - a holy grave, And sweetest life -one dayforgetfuhzess, To be forgotten-holy rest in GodA stillness like God’s life in ancient time. 38

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GOD’S CHILD -NO HE4 THEN. GOD’S CHILD - NO HEATHEN. THOUGH I should die, yet if but God remains, Then all is left me that I ever loved! ,Blissful I look into eternal life. If, though I die, God still remains alive, That is the one great comforter in death, The holiest prayer the dying man can breathe, Yea, the most pious frame, most God-resigned, A soul, however pious, e’er can reach; More trustful, beautiful and full of joy, Than the sad cry: my God! my God! Why hast Thou Forsaken me! - This better prayer of refuge Acknowledges God’s spirit in the soul, And as the soul itself, and so it sinks With joy into the life of God, and lets Its earthly life and mortal frame dissolve, Filled with God’s greatness, yea, and over full. No priest on all the stars could ever teach A higher word than this to dying men, No higher word himself could ever pray, Than that which makes him the appearing God, And in the final hour - when he no more Can see or hear-fills all his consciousness With the serene, eternal life of God, 39

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. With the full foretaste of the eternal bliss That waits on God, which he shall come to know, When his pale mortal form shall in the grave Lie mouldering, yea, when even the grave itself Shall sink and be effaced, and the old dust Shall rise and wave in renovated spring, And the clouds thunder in the upper air, The sun gleam out aloft, and on the wall Of the black tempest, every traveller see A bright peculiar rainbow of his own! Only let every living man thus pray: “‘Tis not I live, but God - if God but lives! Though I should die - O if but God survives!” And lo!

one long eternity is gone, And God still lives! after so many deaths, Heaps of dead dust and crumbled pyramids, Upon this earth and upon all the stars, God still survives! yea, after the long rule And proud dominion of all living men, On this our earth and upon all the stars! He still lives on, a calm and beauteous life On this our earth and upon all the stars; And it is not too childish for a child, And is the loftiest prayer a saint can frame: “Though I should die - O if God only lives!” In that, both child and sage are deified, The worst who can so pray is deified, He dreads no image of a judgment day, He is already risen into God; 40

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GOD’S CHILD-NO HEA THEN. He needs no judgment trump, nor burning world, For him has hope expired in blessedness, For him death died, and now God only lives As spirit, as all men’s spirits, he is pure And innocent as God’s own holiest thought. I heard it from a heathen woman’s lips, One whom no priest had ever taught a word, WVho never read a book;- a living proof: The human heart is the well-spring of God, Here on the earth and everywhere above. And God alone can testify of God,The sun alone can witness of the sunWho shall hang God upon us as a cross? Thou with this word of mine canst prove the priests: If they love God far above all things else.  “What good is that to me?” replied a Prince; - “What use is that to God?” said a good mother. 4I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. A GREATER EVIL THAN DEATH. ‘TWERE idle to deliver men from death, ‘Twere a calamity, nay, even a crime, Than which a greater cannot be conceived. And now if a wise man propose to do it, He can mean onlyfrom the fear of death; And that is a small fear, and known to none Of all created things save man alone; And even of men none knows the fear of death But he who dreads there vengeance for his deeds. The child with his pure childlike soul does not, The poor man knows it not, the sufferer; The sore-afflicted even hopes for death. Though he should wholly end his bitter life, For which the good, who is the modest man, In God reposing, asks no recompense. And if one haply could attain to God, And from his friends could thereby ward off death, Then would he say: “Man, what shall I concede To thee alone? What would they say to that, With right, who have already suffered death? Despair then not for them who gladly died! And if thou lovest them, then learn from love 42

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A GREATER EVIL THAN DEATH. 43 To feel with them what they feel about death… The pure and good: nothing and less than naught, Not what thy true heart feels for dying men; For, seeing death, he dies a thousand times, Who sees it not with my eternal Spirit.” Yet should there come to us each year the Prophet Elias, in his chariot of fire, And tarry but a moment in each place What crowds would press around his chariot wheels, And lay their sick and dying at his feet, And beg him on their knees to take them in, So that they might not watch their loved one die, Prepare the coffin and the awful shroud, And see amidst such life the dumb, dead man Borne silently in the funereal train On to the narrow, but, to all that live, So awful pit, the all-devouring maw, Even by little children called “the grave;” And know that the dear form, so often kissed, So often clasped in love, the heavenly form, Was now the food of gnawing worms and snakes, Ghastly corruption’s loathsome, awful prey! How happier far to deem them borne away In some deliverer’s chariot, anywhere, Or nowhere, feel that they have disappeared, Been charmed away out of this charnel-house, And in sweet joy of heart to love them still; With every morn to look for their return,

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THE WIORLD-PRIFEST. To look in vain, yet still to look, so long As ruddy dawn awakens them from sleep! He, then, brings more divine deliverance Than from mere death, who can deliver men From dying, bitter, sore, untimely dying, Bemoaned with agony that rends the heart And for it gives a gentle and serene Leave-taking of the world, as if none died.. As if men only closed their eyes in sleep, And sweetly, softly sank to rest and peace. 44

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IT TAKES ALL TO SA VE ONE. IT TAKES ALL TO SAVE ONE. T HE fear men felt of old for the old Death, Who seemed to live and still devour the worldThefear’twas a light task to take away! To shut one’s eyes and not see Death, was child’s-play; But not to taste the pains of death-ah that!… To go forever out from the bright world Nor feel it bitter, but accept and bless it.. To feel the eternal parting as a bliss, A health to him who went and them who staidThat is, for wisdom, for intelligence, The goal that may be reached by long, hard toil, The travail of the entire human race! The entire human race shall one day save The whole alone shall save-one single manAnd with him all henceforth and evermore: From lamentation o’er the end of lifeThe end of life - (for that alone were death)As dreadful and irreparable loss, A terrible privation through the long Eternal age. - Know, then: a blessed life, An unrepining, ever cheerful life, Even to the latest day of long old age Redeems the heaven-born child-humanity 45

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THE HWORLD-PRIEST. From bitter curses on an end of life, A melting of the soul into thin air, A crumbling of the human form to dust, And of all men, down to the latest day, Of all the years, many or few, through which Earth shall endure this child’s-play, evermore Played over by new children, till in turn Each one grows sick and weary of the game, And so, at last, the mother, too, herself. 46

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CONQUEST OF THE WORLD. CONQUEST OF THE WORLD. THE world exists, and its live spirit, too, Which feels it bodily, as children feel Their body -
hands and feet and eye and ear. The world exists; and though amazement thrills The world’s own spirit, that it - that He existsNo smallest cloud flees for astonishment! No thunder muffles its tempestuous voice Because of any other’s fright and dread! No grain of sand flees from a skeptic’s glance! The sun in heaven still stands in all the strength Of its old immemorial majesty; The holy stars hold on their ancient way; The great celestial grotto glimmers on, Roamed through by awe-struck living myriads.

They are themselves, if thou regardest right, The living spirit of the universe. Nor does a single mote escape from him, How oft soe’er astonished at himself; No, the star-grotto opens out to him To him, the spirit of the universe, Each power submits, as its old inborn lord; To him all mysteries disclose themselves; To him in all his kingdom’s mighty range 47

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THE WOIRLD-PRIEST. No miracle remains, no, not the least, Save: that he is, himself, and lives and reigns. And should a sleeper choose to call a dream This mighty universe; to think that he Had only dreamed, or was now dreaming it; That when his dream should end, it would be goneThe very dreamer proves his dream a truth. For if there were no dreamer, then no dream. And should a doubter doubt his very self, The very doubt proves his reality, His own, the doubter’s, who beholds so fair This mighty universe - that he would rather Not see, not own it; nay would be content That God did not exist, so he were not! For what it comprehends, that only can The soul believe; at home in what is known. Beauty is greatest of all miracles; And beauty’s self the spirit can spell-bind And sweetly yoke it to his use by love: Where beauty is, Love feels no torment more, But only hope, delight, ecstatic bliss To man it comes as wife! To her-as man! And they belong henceforth to one another! They live with one another, for each other; Each but for each exists; and all for them! And so the word “Religion” comes to us, A foreign and incomprehensible one, Full of a thousand-fold significance, Yet never utterly interpreted. So is there from the one great miracle 48

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CONQUEST OF THE WORLD. A refuge still: none else than Love itself, Which rescues man even from the Beautiful! Yet only Beauty can enkindle Love, Goodness wakes only gratitude and praise. So is the one great miracle subdued Only in iarts, in lesser lovely wonders, By living souls, and in a livingformnAnd only through all is there helb for all! The ceaseless hovering in a chill suspense ‘Midst dream and doubt and stark astonishment,In blest assurance to forget all this, With full, whole soul soar upward into peace, Tranquillity, yea, to that rapturous wish: O that this life might be forever ours! 3 49 D

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7THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE HISTORICAL SUNRISE. NLY the possible history is the true. O Then let not History impose on thee, Which is but its own view made visible. A thousand tongues cannot make one thing true; For had we from tradition’s mouth received, Unanimously pronounced by thousand tongues, This word, ” The sun has risen upion our world!” All we should know, would be what they had seen: That the horizon of the rolling earth Sank to the eyes of those old witnesses The Sun himself has never once arisen, ‘Twas only fancy said, “He is coming up!” Then let not history impose on thee, Only the possible history, that is true. History is history of the mind of man; School history, as of what the teachers thought; Its touchstone reason is and that alone. Only unreason has its “histories.” 50

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THE REWAARD OF KNOWLEDGE. 5I THE REWARD OF KNOWLEDGE. O NLY what thou art, is the world to thee; Following thy changes it becomes for thee The thing to which thou dost transform thyself; To each it is his snail-shell. To the child, \When for the very first time in his life He sees the sun, it is a bright new star, Just risen out of sleep, -even as the child Starts up out of his cradle. To the lamb ‘Tis mother, mother’s milk, and dog and fold And wood and grass and flowers; to the bee It is a honey-pasture; to the spider Only two twigs to hang her nest upon; A swarm of flies, she needs for nourishment; A breath of air that shatters all her house. To the sick soldier, faint with wounds, the sword Upon his bed is faint and sick with wounds, Bleeding and suffering with him; to the blind Noonday is midnight; to the happy man, The world is one great table crowned with wine, An echoing gallery to his joyous song; The old man sees the youngest, loveliest girls But as night-spectres from his youthful time, As their white forms by moonlight came to him!

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5THE WORLD-PRIEST. And he would be their murderer, their betrayer, Would be a breaker of the marriage-vow, If he should be their husband. To the dead What is the world? A coffin and a grave; The worms that gnaw his body in the dark; The iains that only bleach his naked bones: The winds that turn his dust to breath of spring. And so to all the thousand differing creatures The world is made a thousand different worlds, To each his own, shaped after what he is And what he needs: even as a glow-worm has For the reflection of his tiny lamp  The grass! And shall not man then learn from this Aught for his use, his glad enlightenment? To know is in itself the highest gain: And therefore is he man: to know what is; And what he knows around him in the world Tofind all true and beautifully fulfill1ed, Workinig its own jfilftment gloriously, - To feet all and to feel himself divine. Then wilt thou own with touched and tranquil soul: How blessed all, all living creatures are, Even those who only know themselves, yet that As clearly, warmly, as yon sun on high… As GOD! since God with His clear Spirit fills The little spider, yea divinely lives With His primeval skill and art her life. Tranquillity and joy are the sweet fruits Of knowledge and sublimely flow from God. 52

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THE REWARD OF KNOWLEDGE. 53 For see! most surely God believes not! God, God believes nothing, God has no belief. God KNOWS! and sees, and sees through every thing, As clearly as He sees and knows Himself! And yet is surely blest without belief, As no one ever was of all the fools, Who make the vain attempt to thrust themselves, Into another’s hollow head and then To look out on the world with their own eyes From his eye sockets! Thou, then, hold to God, And ever strive to make thyself like God With all His might, which is naught else than thou. Thus lightly God translates His heart in thee Into His great pure heart, His knowledge in thee Into His own clear, holy intellect.

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE SOUL’S KEEPER. L IFE needs the eternal unction, that alone Shall make it doubly precious, doubly fair, The young child resting in its mother’s arms Her child, so near to her, her very own, The mortal, that shall sometime fade away, Andyet the eternal, of eternal powers The priceless work and undecaying life. Can, now, another being tell the soul The thing it knew not  did not understand? What could he do but echo its own words? The emotion, thrilling, throbbing through itself? What need, then, has it of that other now? The pompous stage-expounder of clear things? The soul of every man is his high priest, Always at hand and ready at his call, Early and late, at evening and at morn, In waking hours by day, in dream by night, In noisy gladness and in silent grief, In lingering sickness and in sudden death, Where none, not one can e’er come near to it, As, to a new-born child the very love Of its own mothers heart cannot come near And yet his soul is softly with him there! 54

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THE SOUL’S KEEPER. And in the soul is all of the Divine! Then of thy soul be thou, 0 man, thyself The keeper! Thou, young man, young woman, thou, Confide thou all things to thy soul, with it Converse, advise thyself, instruct thyself, Out of thine own full store of heavenly wealth! And as thou needest but to open thine eyes, Clearly to see the day and all its charms, So keep thy soul within thee clear and pure, And all of God shall come and dwell in thee, And look out from thee and rejoice in thee, And thou shalt enter into all His bliss, And He shall give His peace to thee in life And His tranquillity of bliss in death. 55

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE UNIVERSAL TEMPLE. ONE in himself and with himself to be Is the desirable unityThe only possible unity for man. For to be one with others is but sameness; And nothing that is born, no thing that grows Is ever like another; less by far Than face is like to face, or eye to eye, Is any soul like any other soul In all the world, in its peculiar way Of looking on the world and feeling it. Whoever lives is individual, Without a copy or a precedent, And holy even to God. Subjection stamps The brand of slavery on the freeborn soul, To the free universe worse blot than death. “To show a unity it takes, at least, Two - if not three “-
none ever spake that word; God does not wait for three or even for two, That He may come into the midst of them, But God is in the midst of one alone, And in each being through the universe. In one is there the perfect fellowship Of God and the profoundest unity - 56

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THE UNIVERSAL TEMPLE. And if the temple of God is man himself, And every man the wondrous edifice, Wherein God celebrates in silentness His own existence, meditates Himself In calm devotion, and is to Himself In all His proper beauty manifestThen are there temples, churches, where the rule Of bishop or of parson never yet Was known or needed or can ever be… For God’s is a free Spirit in every soul; Thought is a sacred solitary work, A work which two can never do together, For God’s is a free Spirit in every soul. So a good action is the work of one, And each must do it singly by himself, For God’s is a free Spirit in every soul. Nor are there two religions, can there be, But one religion, that of God Himself, And this the God in every man works out For his own self and by Himself alone.

Religion is God’s proving of Himself To be the eternal and the blessed Spirit, Who, what He is Himself, that exercises And that makes happen to Himself alone; As He in all beholds and feels Himself Alone, and only His own welfare wills! The life-creating, life-diffusing, life Sustaining soul of beauty and of joy. Another temple, other house, of stone, Than this great holy mansion of us all 3* 57

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ITHE WORLD-PRIEST. Is but a dream, a castle in the air; The heart alone, that is the place where God Honors Himself by great self-consciousness And clear intelligence; for more than that God needs not, to maintain a Godlike being Doing and living, either in His own Spirit, or man’s, which is His Spirit too. The sun once clear, his work is heavenly; And if a mother only, watch by night Beside her darlings…‘tis the mother watches, The mother with the wealth of her full heart, And that no stone…‘tis the full Godlike soul! And to attach one’s self to any less Enlarged communion than this limitless And endless immemorial universe Full of the Holy Spirit and life of God,That is to have no hold, no anchorage, Stupidly to reject the church of God; As children creep away out of the sun Into a hut of leaves and keep stock-still And wait until their father finds them there! The true man, full of the clear Spirit of God, He -

God’s own Spirit in a human form, Needs not to seek another sanctuary Than where he is in this broad universe, Nor any other church for fellowship (Not even two, no, not so much as one) Save all the living beings everywhere In every form; nor can he ever give To other men more than his very self 58

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THE UNIVERSAL TEMPLE. Nor dares he give them less than his whole self, Much as he needs them for his j6y and life. To do God’s kindness is no martyrdom! And if it gave itself and others pain, Then of all evils virtue were the worst. No - Godlike action is but joy of life, And all its work is only life and joy, The happiest and the fairest soul is God. 59

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. ANTHROPODICY.* THEY say: “If thou reposest on thyself, And dost revere thyself as thy most rare And costliest possession-then hast thou Cut thyself loose from God and all mankind.” When thou art subject to thyself-thy soulThen only dost thou yield obedience To the great, common soul that lives and moves In all around thee -and to every child That needs thy service and thy helping hand; But art thou not yet master of thyself, Oh then thou surely art none other’s yet! The spirit that makes thee subject to thyself, That is none other than the freeborn master, Who to serve others fain would live, as thou. * Corresponding to “

Theodicy,” - meaning vindication of.nan. - T. 60

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THE COUPLES. THE COUPLES. THAT which must needs form unions, commonwealths Is weak, and owns its weakness to the world. What cannot hold together of itself, Even as the sun’s compact and solid ball, Or like the body of a man or beast, Or even a blade of grass, a single body, A puff of wind shall presently dissolve. More than whole nations is the single man, Nobler in energy and quality, In sentiment and high, divine descent. Then, wilt thou be a whole and genuine man Shut thyself out from nothing that is good, Shut thyself uFi to nothing, no one less Than the whole universe and all it holds Of true and beautiful! No human church And no community of choicest heads And hearts, is yet the whole, free universe! Whoso cuts off, who shuts off other men From his own fellowship, by this same act, Cuts off, shuts out himself from all the world That man has nailed himself to his own cross. The true man stands erect on his own feet. In his own mind all things are bright and clear! 6I i

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. In his own heart all blissful and serene! His happy life is a free pilgrimage:With this good man forth now to do this work, With that one to that other; everfree, Constrained by nothing and by nothing taught, Save by his own heaven-lighted consciousness. Thus only is there genuine godliness! Thus only virtue, moral dignity And worth, and last of all obedience, The greatest, for even God obedience yields To His own love and His own gracious Spirit. Thus now the unions all dissolve themselves, As all communions do and nations all. In turn, by reason and the highest love, All imperceptibly dissolve themselves, And each becomes the firm and solid sun, The couples. are transformed to sister suns, To wedded suns, free with their several lights, Their several forces circling in the heavens. And so there comes on earth a starry heaven, Wherein the stars are human minds and souls Full each one of its own divinity; For without freedom God would not be God, And without freedom no one were divine, But even the worm with freedom is divine, And he is free who with a Godlike mind Executes as a sovereign his own law. 62

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HOLY WRRA TH. HOLY WRATH. F all annoying and afflicting things, Grumbling about them is the very worst! They’re nothing till they grow to gloom in man. Glumness is life’s first real poison then And vessel for it is there none - but man: But say: what men, now, chiefly fall a prey To life’s afflictions and annoyances? And who then reap therefrom a grumbling mind?

Ignorance and inexperience sow the seed Of the disease with their own hands, and then They in their turn from others reap the crop. On patient men too, even on souls resigned, The misery falls, who are not well forearmed. And “saints” are not the saintliest, in sooth, Seldom the wisest; so they come to grief. No shield against all sorrows is a heart Full of good-will and truth and patient trust. Even sheep are slaughtered; they too freeze, being shorn And even patience has its anguish too. The spirited, nay even the angry soul, Can best repel the shafts of misery: It stands upon its guard defiantly, Wards off, and feels, enheartened, its own strength, 63

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Whom sickness, death and graves stir up to wrath, Who mourns not o’er the friend that lies there slain, Mourns not, nor quails, but burns with holy wrath, Wrath only, - that man feels not grief nor death, He is in strength like to the mighty gods. Above them and their groaning world has he Set himself up on high, and now he stands Confronting it with pure and clear-eyed spirit. And so we find in all the great, in all Heroes and prophets, all who ever have Wrought great things: wrath! the bearer of all woe As child’s play! witness of all weighty acts: As of the flood, and the redemption, once, Nay, an “indignant” prophet raised the dead. And that is the thrice holy might of wrath. The godly wrath that looks with scorn on pain; That looks with scorn on misery and on tears, Strong in the simple childlike might of GodFor which there is no death, no destiny, But only fiery glow in purest heart. The might of anger is the highest might; It burns out all that e’er afflicted thee. 0
man! stir up that fire within thy breast!Meanwhile the silly sheep are only shorn; The patient ones are going to be redeemed; The dead shall be one day roused from the grave - Anger awakes the dead, creates the world.

Indifference sees the world to ashes sink, Contentment finds in life a snare and foe. 64

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THE HIGHEST P,TERNAL 70Y. 65 THE HIGHEST PATERNAL JOY. T be a king-oh noblest state of man! A father of so many thousand fathers, Of mothers, daughters, sons and darling babes; Of mountains full of herds and forests full Of game; of field, vale, meadow, fount and stream; To be a king and a good father too, Of the young roe and of the trembling hare And of the smallest tree beside the road: By wisely-ordering and protecting power, A faithful hand -extended graciously O’er all the land - that softly leads o’er night Lost ones to hospitable homes; awakes From slumber; guides the darling little ones Early to school: flings wide the temple doors, A grateful refuge to the burdened soul; Lends helpers to the sick: to poor folk bread; Even to the dead secures a holy grave, And o’er the grave mound plants the linden tree.: That gives to all each highest gift, nor needs To take from any, what it gives to one, So that no single child may have to weep! That life may be to each a joyous thing, For joy the highest treasure is of life E

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. A songless wood, a bee-hive still as death, A mourning land…. saddens the sun itself!Creating joy is then a king’s great work!

Opening the way for joy he brings in peace, Law, liberty, light, right, prosperity; For this he lives, to give his people joy: Joy in the happy monarch of a race, Invincible, that in unbroken strength In the first freshness of its juicy shoot Firm-rooted, storm-proof, rises up to meet The coming centuries with their suns and all Their harvests, -full of blossoms and of fruits; To be a king-supreme paternal joy! - 66

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OPENNESS. OPENNESS. L IVE open to the world, as to the sun. What thou dost hide is, sure, to some one’s hurt, What drives thee into corners is thy fear, And surely fear is to thyself disgrace. A mystery, of itself, is half a wrong; It is a shame to thee if thou so liv’st That all the world may not know how thou liv’st. ‘Tis a disgrace to thee that thou dost set The things of men so high… art so their slave, That they ingloriously imprison thee, That they have power to lame thy tongue and arms. What not even decency can fairly chide Thou need’st not blab it in the market-place. Yet worry not thyself if haply one Or other know of it whose name is man, And who will soon forget it in the grave. Tlze shame of beingjgoor, and seeming thus To be unhappy or of no account - Oh root it out! We are but beggars all, ‘Fore God; and few rich men live justified Throughout, but many silently despised, Either for how they gained their gold and goods Or how they spend them, - live like wretches, fools, 67

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THE’ORLD-PRIEST. A shame and burden to the poorer, who Stupid as devil’s-servants court the rich, And count for honor insults from the great. Nor, if thou canst not cut off others’ heads, Take to thee shame as wholly powerless! Power is withheld no less from all the rest, Who wear their chains. Power is nothing else Than one man borrowing the might of all, Most awful of responsibilities, Most deadly; to the one made tolerable Only by this: that many share it too Whom God may punish with him for misuse. Be Pope or Mufti. Emperor, King, oi boor, Thou dost begin that day a better life, And only then a Godlike one and free, On which thou dost renounce all privacy And dar’st be as heroically great As that frank hero is, the polar bear, The Elephant, the Lion in the woods, Who with a genuine Godlike consciousness Walks, with his naked hide, so all content, And has no secret weighing on his soul. For be a man ever so good and greatHardly the best shall match himself with these, The holy creatures made divine through God. Treason is shameful, monster among crimes, Traitors are the most formidable foes, Yet always has the thing betrayed been good, Wholesome and safe and saving to the world. And whoso now with harm to no one, save 68

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OPENNESS. Cheaters of men and traitors to their God, Lays bare a mystery of iniquity, Him oh revile not-him dishonor not! Lest thou revile -
disgrace thyself in him Wrapt in a few rags shall the grave one day Receive thee naked, and thy naked soul, Proud man! shall stand up shuddering before God. Man is already here a mask of God; Man is a mask even to his fellow-men. That which thou hidest is but thy disgrace; Whoso lives frankly fears no judgment day; And openness disarms all enemies; He who is honest can be no man’s foe. Sinners in secret call him “void of shame ” He is ashamed: to be small-souled and craven! 69

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE BIRD OF WISDOM. WHOM callest thou thy master! Noble man! I? None but God alone; He is my Lord. Spirits alone have masters; bodies none. He whom I love not, hate not, yea despise, My master surely is not, cannot be; For even the mother calls her darling child, WVhlom she loves, fondly calls him little lord. Force has not over spirits any force, And might o’er men has properly no might; For men are not the bodies that they wear, No, not the very beggar in his rags. If robbers should fall on me in the wood And bind me fast - are they iizy masters then? Robbers they are, my robbers,- nothing more! And if they slay me, yea and bury me Beneath the sand-are they my masters then? Murderers, my murderers, are they - that is all ‘- Whom call’st thou then tzy master, noble race?” The Master of mankind, the Lord of earth, Of sun and stars and all the heavenly host! To Him the whole soul cleaves as loyally As all the rivers hasten to the sea. Leaders, wise legislators, benefactors, These well may claim to have earned the people’s love. Primeval peoples of the better stamp, 70

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THE BIRD OF WISDOzl. As the Chinese, rested their government Upon the corner-stone of fatherhood, And gave to every sire of every house, The power of the great father in the realm, Authority over the life and death Of all his household, wife and children; next, Gave, to the eldest son the father’s power Over his brothers and his sisters, yea, Over his mother.-

Fair beginning that Of government, methinks, and a wise break Of man’s perpetual mania for sway Upon the shore of each paternal heart; A wise arrest of brethren’s rivalry In the affection of a brother’s heart, Trained to a father’s rule and loving them As nearest blood relation, honoring them As children of his father and his mother, Thoroughly happy when he makes them so, And grieved to bitter tears when they are grieved!

But of all rule the heaven-appointed end Is liberty for all, the ruler too, The father and the brother, - every man. And plight divine and right divine, these two, Are the twin-bonds that make a people one Which will not live on grace and sufferance, And should not, - for the poorest beggar has His rightful claim to every human heart, And every giver only gives his due, And parents’ love and children’s truth have been From immemorial eld, for Gods and men, Both right and plight, and will be so forever! 7I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. No ruler can be wiser than his age, Than the humanity from which he springs: From it comes all he knows, to it he does All that he does: he is a man, like all. No book, in the most secret escritoire Of rulers lies conzcealed that tells how they Should guide the nations through all future time… Or to what goal the nations all should come!

And had there been such book, it would long since Have, by humanity outgrown, become A jest book. Free must be the ruler, free Must be his rule and free his people too. Your rulers, then, ye nations, first release And make them free! Free from the very need To punish, by your wise and righteous life! Free from suspicion, by your upright will!From superstition by intelligence!Form to yourselves a true and absolute Judgment of life: know where you would arrive; WVhat is the will of all, is straightway done. Bondage lies at the slave’s door, not the lord’s, And with the herd the herdsman perishes. He guides the herd where he thinks good for them, Humanity points out its shepherd’s way; Whither it will, thither will he go too. Then only fares it well with him and his. So the wild goose herself who leads the geese, Though at their head, is but a goose * like them, Herself as full as all the rest of them With yearning toward the Spring across the sea. * The Bird of Wisdom with the ancients.

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SOLON AND SESOSTRIS. SOLON AND SESOSTRIS. HE bloom of spring, the summer’s glowing pomp, The gorgeous autumn with fruit-laden trees, Are they no more, when the stern winter comes, And covers hill and vale with drifting snow? True they are gone, but they had long been gone Already. They had lived their life out first! Of the least rose-bud not the smallest bit, Nor lily, which has never seen his face, Has winter in his clutch-he came too late! When thou hast, with thy friends, night after night, Drained a great cask-full of delicious wine, And in the cask the lees are vinegar, Is therefore the sweet wine thou and thy friends Have drunk, turned in your veins to vinegar? The dregs alone are vinegar; the rest Remains a sweetness in the memory. The flowers have bloomed before stern winter comes Whoso is happy, was, before his death, And late misfortune, even an early death Takes not away the earlier, faireryears! Nay, should’st thou, in delusion, deem thyself Happy, and the delusion be dispelled, Thy wisdom only ends thy folly -not 4 73

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Annihilates! Whoso for eighty years Should roam through fragrance over flowery shores, Then plunge into the sea and sink and drown, Still roamed his ez,hty years on flowery shores. He who grows happy must have been before Unhappy; and the man who has become Unhafipy, could not have become so now, If he had not before known happiness. Mutable is the lot of man on earth; Let each see how he may continue happy, Yet not proudly defy misfortune’s shaft, But in good fortune be compassionate.

Sesostris gave to seven kings the boon Of life and liberty. And one of them, When harnessed to his chariot with the rest, Saw in a spoke of the wheel that now was up, And now was down, an emblem of the lot Of man, and even of the fate of kings! 74 ~

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TIIE END OF ALL THIiYGS. THE END OF ALL THINGS. T IE end of all things is deplorable Of love and beauty, wedded life, all, - all All flowers that bloom and shoot up into seed, All birds, when on their twig in the still wood With hushed and stifled throats they sit and die, And the wind sweeps them dead from off the tree. All things that live come quickly to an end.

The unnumbered and innumerable things, Day after day, are coming to an end: The trees, the houses, cities, nations -all! The earth itself shall one day pass away. The sun shines down from heaven before his end: The stars are only flowers that bloom and fade, They live utntil they all come to an end! The end of all things is o’ercast and sadAnd what has had beginning has its end; And all has had beginning everything That ever eye has seen or ear has heard, Nay even what has issued from the mind, That has its life and also has its end: The song expires upon the singer’s lips, The tender flute-note dies upon the breeze, The crash of thunder and the peal of bells; 75

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THE 0’ORLD-PRIEST. The pictures fade and die upon the wall; The words of wisdom die upon the earth; Custom and usage die, and manners die, The holiest love dies with the hearts it blest The gods themselves perish and pass away, Like marble statues gnawed by teeth of time. The end of all things is deplorable. Oh how much beauty, how much gladness ends, For which all angels never ceased to weep, Nor all the dew of nights had tears enough; For it transcended tears; man, none but he, Must mourn, instead of angels and of clouds, The beauty and the loveliness once his. Quite inconsolable, unbearable, Were daily, hourly grief for all that ends, All, all the precious things each soul must mourn, Not one or two or three alone, but all The wealth of beauty and of loveliness How hapipy then that Love too has its bounds And limits! only strength to mourn its own. Else mtan were earth’s most wretched type of woe! But now, within his bosom’s narrow bounds He bears his burden, even though it be As great and heavy as his love itself. The shock of sorrow stuns, (as death begets Indifference) and so brings with it relief, And constant thunder makes men deaf at last.

Man, like a child, awakes as moon and sun Exchange their watches-and his heart is glad! He sees his dear ones fade by slow degrees. 76

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THE END OF ALL THINGS. For even his little children pass from him Only by imperceptible degrees, Year after year into still greater fornms And fairer-yet they pass away, and so Inure him softly to the daily end: For lo! insensibly the little ones Are snatched from him, exchanged - and yet still there! The radiant bride is in the mother lost. And in the weaning undergone by man From all the beauty and the bliss around, New beauty thousand-fold each day begins, And like an airy shape floats round him still! New things come ever, bright and beautiful, The old resembling, and replacing it, For eye and heart yea and for heaven itself. And as thefair andgladsome blue of heaven (Which, with the sun and moon, does not the less Glide by forever imperceptibly) Seems to stand still, and in the eternal round Really remains eternal; so the world Stands before man; who calls it mutable, And Seeting, half in earnest, half in jest; Harshly upbraids, yet blesses secretly, Because it brought him all he ever loves And brings new things to beings ever new, Which they in turn can love with all their soul. And that wakes pity… magnanimity: For others’ happiness, to lose his own! Beginnings, therefore, no man deprecates, No mother ever does her new-born child - 77

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. The man begun,- that yet one day shall end; And only the beginning could be mourned, Because it brings with it the end of things.

The world’s beginning and all love’s, God’s own Beginning, or God’s being, that alone Must bear the blame of sorrow and of death. If this is death verily: that Love weeps; For without love no tear would ever fall, And love through death alone grows passionate And real, - and becomes the soul of God In the vast universe, the changeable And fleeting,- only by its fleetingness. Only in man, then, does the spirit of God Not contradict itself, in his own spirit, And so it quietly accepts the still, Tranquil, divine beginning of all things; And yet it says, fulfilling its own law: The end of all thiings is deplorable. Andglorious is the strong andgod-like soul.* * One is reminded here of Shelley’s lines: - “All things that we love and cherish Like ourselves must fade and perish; Such is our rude mortal lot Love itself wau’d, did they not.” - T. 78

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THE DUTY OF THE OPEN EAR. 79 THE DUTY OF THE OPEN EAR. “‘TIs critical to tell a prince the truth; Twice it is harmful, and once profitless. First hurtful: thou exasperatest him; And a king’s wrath embitters his whole day, And well may harm a city-full of men. Then hurtful: for it gets thee stripes and grief. Then useless also; for thou changest none; After each quarrel, even the better men Only go on more stiff in their own way.

Reformed men, better men, are only born, That is the hope and comfort of the wise. And hence it seems superfluous, once for all, That thou and all the people in the land (Who think and live more nobly from their birth) Should even say and publish honestly What their soul knows and what their hearts have felt. What in this generation’s heart lay hid, That in their children comes upon the scene Living and visible, head, hands, and feet,And will inevitably be lived out; As all the children carry on their games So will the parents, risen again in spirit, Stand as new creatures and create new things.”

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. This word is keen and true; yet cowardly. Must thou then say to no one what will be Tomorrow, what hereafter man shall live, Which a true ruler with wise forethought may Prepare for? Frankness honors the good man, And pouring out his soul refreshes him. ‘Tis a man’s glory and his duty too. And were his coffin the reward for it, And for the voice of truth the hush of death;Yet the Chinese carry their coffins with them Before the palace of their emperor, When they must tell him an unwelcome truth, But one that shows the land a higher good Than he can see or haply will confess. Yet’tis the Ruler’s duty to hear truth, It is the only indispensable one, The availing one that God requires of each, Avenging each to whom it is denied. And so when one has said his dying word There in his coffin sitting all the while, His faithful head sunk mutely on his breast… Another straightway with his coffin comes And utters in his ear the wholesome word. And when he, too, has said his dying word Within his coffin sitting there the while His faithful head bowed mutely on his breast… Then with his coffin joyful comes the third, The fourth, the fifth, the tenth, the twentieth.. Until at last the word’s not only heard As duty bids, but also listened to 80

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THE DUTY OF THE OPEN EAR. As right demands.- Say now: is not the weal Even of the stubborn host himself… is not The weal of a whole race which he is charged At God’s great golden banquet board of earth To entertain withl gifts-is it not worth Ten coffins and ten noble hearts therein lThat felt: ”’ 0 man! thou only liv’st for men! And knew: that word-seed is the seed of work? And whoso stirs in us a noble sense And free, that man creates both God and freedom For the divine race called humanity, Of which God makes the Princes * only hosts, The Prinzcipals and MIarshlals of their feasts For not a mad-house or correction-house Shall he perversely make God’s house of joy Of the glad spirit of his beauteous world, Which nothing knows of sin or evil-doing Save his, who poisowis his own joy of hfe. For knowledge, truth, refined morality, Glow but to crown a glad and beauteous life; And not to fire and fill, one day, a hell, That has no place in his pure palaces. In German the Fiirste (Princes) are properly the First men, just as the kings are the men who can (k6nnen)- T. 4 8i F

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THE WOeLD-PRIEST. WHO EVER PUT BACK THIE SUN?* T HIS the world teaches: the authorities Have an authority above themselves, The silent one, that smiling like the sun, Lets not that seed spring up, but silently Perish, that held dark fates for coming men, And ill-assorted with the world’s new yearAnd with still care raises the seed to light Which a good man, though least of all, had sown. But fall not into onze mistake, 0 men! Whatever sin offends against the fiast, Against the transient and the life gone by, A,nd tlerefore now lies dead among its deatd, That hold to be a lesser crime by far, Yea, hold it even as naught, compared with that WVhich might presumptuously against the high And heaven-clear future of this godlike race Have been committed, yet shall never be For these poor children, sprung of this poor race, Are the trie masters of tie fitture age And every day therein, and all its lore. They who live after us shall be the heads Of the dead myriads and of every past; * The German title: ” Who ever arrested the march of the sun? ” appears to be a line from some song.

- T. 82

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WHO EVER STA YED THE SU-N? 83 And no one born on earth has leave to make A testament, that flatly contravenes Or even so much as fetters by a hand The will, the wisdom, and the liberty Of future souls to all eternity!

Honor, ye living men, them that shall live! Corrupt not, drown not, lay not waste the soul Wherein shall grow the thing that none e’er saw; Just as around us here upon the earth Blooms that which elder eyes had never seen. Rather hand down the earth, a well-tilled ground, And for this child - the human race-let him Pass from your hands rifefor a higher school No Cretin!

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. COMPULSION. W HAT is enforced, humanity repels, B’caitse enforced, how wholesome and how good Soe’er; humanity wants first: to will; Tlzat right it guards with holy jealousy. For he is never wretched who may will; Happy he only who can choose, and does. Bring now a slice of golden honey-comb And harshly bid the child: “This thou must eat!” He’ll turn away from it; and woutlcist thou fain Force with the spoon the honey down his thlroat, He’ll shut his little teeth together tight, And cry with tears: “Father, it makes me sick! Oh why wilt thou torment me so?” For truly ‘Twas,all, not oJoney. - But let father now Go set his pot of honey secretly, \Without a word, without a prohibition, Then’will the child go gladly of himself, And taste and in three days have eaten up all. Nor think thou to catch men as men do asses, By false decoys, making believe to do What they shall do, shall practise, after thee, As when thou washest tlhine eyes with clear water Before the monkey-people looking on 84

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CO.lfPULSION. And set’st before them then a dish of paste, That they with glued-up eyes may be thy slaves. Enactest thou before man even t,ze bes4t, WVhich he, confiding in thee, imitates, That should be called: to allure, to lead astray, Yea to corrupt God’s children’s lofty souls Set thou the food before the hungry man, The water set before the thirsty one, And speak no word, not even to bid them come. And need I tell thee what will then take place? That is to honor both one’s self and man, To lead along his yearning to the truth And light, and help the free and godlike soul That lays its hand on all be_ttiii’g it. So the Lord sets two starlings out in spring, Provides a hollow tree, provides dry stalks, And soon a brood is twittering in the nest But cage them in, and make a nest for them, With food and drink, and comforts rich supplied,The pair looks on dismayed and pines away! The set example is a thing for asses Things daily babbled in our ears we hate ,VZhat is enforced, humaiaity rejects! 85

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THIE WOlLD-PRIEST. THE SAVIOUR: IMPOSSIBILITY. IS that so very sure: “

Might, only, tells, And only might makes right, is always right? But then a man might still go on to ask The highest of all questions (for the question Of slavery or freedom does concern Humanity, in which God’s life takes form). Tfiis must one ask: Wl,at might alone prevails? And wShat right has it? Since a right it has For God hzimself could lot, with all Ifis nil’t, Much less the lord of some small strip of earth, ifainItaii a wrong of his for many years. Yet even the feeble and defenceless snail Maintains a right within her house, until The gardener tramples on it -and her too. The bravest of all dwellers on the earth, The marmot, has his right too in his house, Until the marmot-digger comes upon him, Beats him to death and takes his household goods Takes” - says the man: ” No,” the marmot: ” steals.’ “Man,” he would say, “thy right is mastery! Right of the stronger!” So superior strength Slaughters the whole; superior strength no less, And only that, hurls rocks into the sea, 86

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THE SA VIOUR: I1fPOSSIBILITY. Not violence, not human tyranny. The rocks devoid of sensibility, Without a will, know naught of violence; Man, above all that live upon the earth, Most keenly feels the hand of power; to Ahim Can violence be done. Now then whaf might Does really prevail? Of evil men? The evil power lasts out its evil time It can hale men to prison, rob their sons Or murder them, make mothers mute as stones, And men as stiff as rocks; it can do all Through abject hirelings and will-less tools, So long as it counts one izan more than foes Two men will soon be masters of the one, Whoever he may be, if they but will, For with a naked sword one constable Shall hold in awe a panic-stricken town. Yes, might does tell indeed on will-less souls, On fi-ightened ones; not on the nzarmzot who Turns on his foe and boldly tears his face It tells but on his body and his life; Yes, might does tell, but it endureth not When it is violence, and when all souls Do not and freely yield to it their will. For if in any stillest nook there dwell A simple man, a better, wiser one Than a self-willed and headstrong hundred men, The one shall be the little magic storm-egg Round which come trooping all the thunder-clouds; That one shall be the little lump of leaven 87

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THE WPORLD-PRIEST. That over night leavens the meal for men. The might of the good man and reasonable Alone endures. that lays no human heart Under constraint; (for not to be constrained Is any heart of man, it scorns constraint.) Odious is force, as to the tender maid, \Vho yet to him she truly loves will give, Yea offer up freely and joyously, Her all, because her will inspires her. That is the free, the holy might alone, Might which has right, because it is possessed Of God’s own right and strengthl within itself. \V;hoso feels violence quivering in his hiands Convulsively, in vain thou say’st to him: “If thou hast power, and if a worm submit Thereto… tread him not down beneath thy feet, Because thou canst, - all people Czei’ do horrors; Yet do thou not!… and is the worm a man, A child, a woman… oh oppress them not; Nor make one moment of their beautiful And holy life a joyless thing to them.” Power hears it not and understands it not, As no zvil elebhalnzt will heed a word. Naught saves us from the senseless lightning stroke, But iron that hinders it from hitting us aiyz,ht saves tus but imlpbossibility, That only-and all other means are vain. zVaug,It saves uts but iuzbossibility. Impossible it must be to cheat the heart, ,mPossible no less to enslave the mind 88

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THE SA4 VIOUR: IMPOSSIBILITY. The very purpose is a basfihemy -

Iimnossible it must be to fetter reason, To spell-bind thought and the free soul immure In old, dark, melancholy dungeon walls Wherein the tree of life no more may bloom And put forth freely all its heavenly fruits.

And to this blest impossibility, Two are the roads by which God leads his race. The one, the open road the people take: To make the ziu/ity, holnest, wise, and good, Then power is resolved into good-will And good-will is the very joy of power For if in His own person God should reign Upon the earth, what jf)-eedti wozild lthere be, Freedom to teach, to live and to believe As He even grants it to all people now Whom, as dear children, smiling He allows To call their Gods by names themselves have made And talk with them as children with their dolls. - The second way half helps to shorten that: To niake the stupid wise, azd wise ones strong, Girt round with purest, never-conqueredc wills For if in a whole people each one were A boy-Achilles and a man-Achilles, In courage, only a Napoleon, And in ambition, before such a one What could a thousand heroes do but slink, Scorned and disgraced, into a coward’s grave! Against that noble wife Penthesilea What could a host, each an Achilles, do? 89

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Naught saves us but impossibility; Whole nations and each one of us no less. When’tis impossible for us to be Stupid and bad, because we have tlhe ower To judge, because we are discreet and good…

Impossible for power to be rude Because resolved into meek modesty And silent awe before the Spirit of God,-;What blessed life noble humanity Will live, as calm and steadfast as if God Were walking million-fold in Paradise! Make possible and real to yourselves Impossibility; and just so far, No farther, are you prosperous and happy! 9o

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DIVIAE SEA7SE IN CHILD’S-PLA Y 9I DIVINE SENSE IN CHILD’S-PI,AY. * A SOMNIETHING unmistakably divine And holy, and eternally unique,So has man’s life no other, narrower aim, No end beyond itself, no far-off goal.

Subject to none in the wide universe, Not to the Spirit of the universe, For throutgh it lives the Spirit of God Himself Out from Himself, for His pure blessedness. And nothing can subject the Spirit of God. God has no end but simply to be God; And live as God throughout the universe. Else God had some one greater than Himself, And of (hat other God would be the slave, For whom He worked at service in the world. The ideal life of man is then: pure joy, Forever ending, rounding in itself, Self-bounded, self-sufficing, self-enclosed. Yet though our life is thus a godlike play, In the most pious and exalted sense, By its uniqueness inexpressibly holy, Still it is bitter earnest to miankind, As children find grave earniest their light play. * “There lies deep meaning oft in childish play.” - HEAIANS.

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THE U’ORLD-PARIEST. The heart beats loud with joyous expectation, When on the eve of entering childhood’s play In the green, blooming, glittering, sunny hall: They throw into it all their bodily strength, The soul is all attention keen and quick; Courage, determination too, they need; And who disturbs them is their greatest foe: Naught so momentous as their feast of joy; Nothing so holy as their holiday: And what the flowers, and what the trees, and what A shadow on the greensward mean for them, That none could ever say; none could translate The words a mother whispers to her child: “

Ah! w,hoiz I have in thee, there’s no man knows, And who thou art, none can express to me!” No lovelier play of God’s than this our life, So simple, of so few ingredients Of comingl, growing, wooing, marriage-making, Baptismal festivals, and every spring Tending the garden and arranging crops, Keeping the house in order, reaping, resting; In winter thinking fondly of old times; From year to year growing older; being old; And then at last to bury, and be buried; That is so entertaining, innocent, To the pure, true and innocent childlike soul, So healthful to the body, to the mind So rich in lore and profit thousand-fold, That none could ever have conceived a play That would demand of man more watchfilness 92

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DIViN~VE SENSE IN CHILD’S-PLA Y. 93 And animate and strengthen courage more, Fill the whole soul with growing interest And make one weary for a good sound sleepIn open air beneath the golden stars! Only the man who by a sad mistake Has forfeited all this, who must look on Alone and with morose and crabbed mind, Is shunned by all that in their gayety And joy forget themselves - forget him tooHe only has no comfort day or night. He looks upon the sad, deserted play-ground Old earth, - with lonely, melancholy gaze! And unappeased his soul within him pines For weary longing, yet with longing filed Fuzlitess of raiture in the spell-bound heart.

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THE WOP”LD-PRIEST. PROVIDENCE ARRAIGNED. “,THE spirit is charmed, infused, into the world, Grown into it, and never can be free, While yet a breath, a spark is left of it. And all, all spirits, all the lesser beings, Man on the earth, the others on the stars, Have all of them as hard a time as ihe To live and bear the burden of the world. They have if possible a harder lot Than he: Birth and all life’s vicissitudes, And finally to meet and live through death. A great by no means enviable play, The master-piece, the eternal tragedy, Given on rehearsal by the manager, Before no public, no dramatic judge, At his own cost, out on the world’s broad stage As quietly as in the stillest depths Of the remotest woods exhibited To the blue spaces of the empty heaven. I sicken! I, too, am a player here Since yesterday and for a few days more. And were I but the only one! Had I No fellow-players! - Were there none I loved! Then would I sleep sound as the stolid rock 94

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PROVIDENCE APRRAIGNED. And blissful as the wave beneath the moon.” - Such are thy words, poor friend! and thy complaint Is bitterer than thy words.

Thy wie lies sick… Thou fearest that she may return again The way of spirits, and her lovely form Melt in the undistinguishable element. Be of good cheer! MIuster that courage now Which in the hour of play thou didst not need, No, but where each one day has need of it (Even he who gayly swam the wave of life Wafted along in peace by fortune’s breeze) In the stern hour, the great and holy time Of the immensely great and ancient soul! The ancient men have nowhere said to us One word of our own true, eternal life, A few words only have they left to us Of the great Hallelujah; they have proved Nothing; have only fancied, only dreamed What other dreamers in their turn should dream. There is no hold, no ground for confidence. The solace must proceed from man’s own soul, Our own existence is our only stay. Of old-imagined wisdom naught is left, Yet it has clearly dawned in us at last:The spiritual lives, and thou too art The spirit, the self-same spirit, that lives and moves And stirs with joy through all the universe, That lives forever and can live with joy. Only let every shaibe be lightly worn / Each live his life out in calm confidence! 95

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Each one, his life completed, be content, And satisfied to meet a tranquil death! Never too soon! untimely death is woe, A breach of life; life breaks in two with pain! Pain seizes on the great Eternal Spirit, WVho forfeits and for naught a form of his, - And this same pain the sufferer must bear, The dyizng nziaiz, and calls it misery, wrong! It burns the loving ones, who gather round The sick man and the dying man; they call Him wretched and Ileizselzves-iow, for this once, And through each coming hour, forevermore. It was a singular, unnatural woe! And if it is repeated myriad times In others, then are all as signally Wretched in this their little day of earth. The dying has no solace left him then, None other have survivors left than this To teach men-Harmony with God; to live In harmony with Element and Spirit. So the bare doctrine of the ear/l/y lzfe Becaiize the very highest sOirit-lore, And of none other is there need, in this Or any future world,- than everywhere To live in pure and glad tranquillity. So lives he in eternal blessedness, So dwells the spirit calmly in his world Spell-bound, and more and more grows into it, While yet a breath, a spark remains in him; Yet is this breath as tranquil as a child’s Or an old man’s who sinks bowed down with age. 96

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PROVIDENCE ARRAIGNED. And seems it still a wonder: mark it well! Live it and learn it by experience! It is so still, transpires so still in thee.

And if the spirit is in itself content, What can it suffer? what can grieve it more? And though it had to walk through flaming fires, Or over red-hot iron with naked feet, What harm, what grief could thereby come to it, If once it knew the magic recipe: Touched by no breath of all the flaming fire, Across the glowing iron to walk its way, Through terrors which to it no terrors are, At which it only smiles, nay, counts them joys. But lo! the spirit has this magic spell: ‘Tis, its owin self, the inviolable life, The deep repose, the inalienable bliss Now go back to thy home more tranquilly, And with the eyes of God behold hereafter Whate’er may happen. Buit there’s na,,ught so bait As it a,Apears! Beginnings are not ends. Always to fear the worst were something great Didst thou notfear it. Danger’tis that brings The coward courage. Courage makes men free, And freedom clears the soul; clearness of sight Brings us the needed help, and help in turn Brings health to us, and love, and joy in love. G 97 5

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THE WOORLD-PRIEST. MAN’S GRIEF AND MOTHER’S LOVE. DRIVEN to and fro by speechless restlessness, Yonder I see a man, now hurrying on, Now stopping suddenly, as lost in thought; He flings himself face downward on the grass, He stretches out his arms to heaven for help, Then lets them fall as one who sinks to sleep. Now he starts up again, and through the brake, Strides to an overhanging precipice. I see him plainly, see his pallid face, I hear his voice, as the poor man complains: “Now hear me, O thou sun, and mark my words; I say to thee, I have as yet a wife, My children, too, have still a mother, while Thou standest in thy place to-day in heaven! And when thou diest, they and I, perhaps, Shall see her too -
irrevocably - sink, And her eye close never to look again, Like thine, a cheering sunrise on the world. To thee I tell my tale of grief and woe, For I, I know no throne of God; or where, Or whether, He in yonder heaven sits throned Or, if in the wide universe He has A throne, I cannot tell the way to it: 98

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AfM4A’S GRIEF AVD iMOTHER’S LOVE. 99 I have no wings, and had I, they would fail, Before I reached Him: heart and strength would fail. And should I haply come and kneel before Him What could I stammer out!… What would He say, Should I demand of Him to wipe out Death, Death from His universe? Would it not be As if one begged Him to annihilate The universe itself? Bade Him enact The cruel tyrant to the old-time dead, Myriads whom He already had let die Nay, should He, for my sake, extinguish death, I must, from pity for the wretches all (Who, by an unjust doom, had suffered it, If I were not to suffer it as well) I must needs beg Him not to spare myself, Nay more, and even to send the stroke of death To her, alas! my wife, - whose eyes must close In this bright sun to open nevermore So justified I feel, so justly grieved. Lay, righteozisniess itself I see is iauzghlI, And is, like Love itself a grief o gan-! And so my wishes die within my breast, The thoughts all take their flight from out my soul0
sun, with thy great look make me, too, strong, Thou that hast seen already millions die, That lookest all around on trillion graves Yet never in despair hast rushed from heaven, Nay, still shone on, and smiled with friendly ray. Three ways are open to me, wretched one: I care for naiught.’ cast all away from me, I: I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. I cease to love; ah! I have loved so long, And felt so long the bliss of being loved And now, with love, is all my sorrow gone The dying one, she had done naught to me, I breathe a blessing on her harmless soul. Nor am I wroth with death, nor him who has Death in his pay, for bitter daily wage!Yet if the memory of blissful love Torment thee, and through all thy waking hours And nightly dreams the world afflicts thy soul, Then weep and wail, and never dry thy eyes, And pine away in speechless, holy woe; So ends thy grief-and thou and life are quits. For a third remedy-forget! forget! Console thee with another woman’s handOn her soft bosom rest thy tear-worn face ‘Twas the last word I heard, for suddenly He flung himself wvih horror from the steep, Before my cry, my foot, my hand could reach him. I found him dead below. I called to aid A peasant, and we bore him tenderly Home to his poor sick wife; she heard me tell How he had loved her, her and her alone. Oh what a shriek of agony was hers! Then with a passionate cry she clasped her children all And found her only balm in - mother’s love. IOO

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COMLVO,G HO,IfE FROS, THE BURIl L. Io I COMING HOMIE FROM THIE BURIAL. AR
worse than in a ghostly, ghastly tale At which thy hair in childhood stood on end And tears rushed to thy eyes-far worse it fares \Vith thee, whom death has robbed of darling ones - The tale thou canst believe, or not believe; The deeds of horror thou hast never known, And no one else has seen them with his eyes, That he might testify and swear to all The things his senses witnessed, how soe’er Incomprehensible a miracle. But thou, poor man, hast seen with thine own eyes The cold and cruel miracles, fulfilled By an invisible and cruel Power, Whomn thou dost modestly call only Death. But every master answers for his man. Yet now have both of them appeared to thee, Though only in their horrible, monstrous work, All the more monstrous: in II, loved oize’s form Thou, watcher, wide awake, with shudldering hand Thyself could’st touch the dead! Bones of the dead, Dust of the dead in their old sepulchre: Dust of thy father, and thy mother’s dust. Thou sawest the sun shine on the ghastly place, The old familiar sun, thy childhood’s sun! Thou sawest the earth bloom round it with her flowers, The false, deceitful mother - childhood’s earth!

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. And now the awful gloom enshrouds her form… They loosen from her head the flowing hair, At their cold touch her arms, her feet drop off, The beauteous eyes, like great and lustrous gems Out from the sockets cruel fingers steal, And roll her fleshless head upon her lap.

“This is no fancy-this is naked truth! This is no fable, no-this is tle world! And the torn heart, that is thy very self; This horrible sensation is thly soul, And this great child awaked out of the world Of legendary wonders, who rejects With detestation, scorn and impotent rage This foul and most malignant sorcery And yet beholds and long must witness it, Till it shall seize him too  thzat is a Czan, And this grim nightmare dream of man is thou, Thou that hast gazed thy fill on Deity. And never shall a future make that good Nor ever from thy soul efface again What has befallen thee here in her thou lov’st, As trtuly as the world exists, be that Whate’er it may: -a veritable dream, A noonday sleep, a show, an empty nothing, A winter storm to an eternal spring-” So shy’st thou, staggering backward from the grave, And all thou say’st is true -to thee to-day! It has been and it will be o’er and o’er. Yet learn by this with free and fearless heart I02

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COMING HOME FROJM THE BURIAL. 103 To entertain the great and cheering thought: Not all that happened before witnesses, By actual witnesses seen, heard, believed, Recorded - even could men believe it too Not even all that is therefore made out true. Nay, it may haply be the thing that’s false In man and word, to be cast out as false. The truth dwells in thy soul and there alone/ The meaning of the world is in thy heart!

Intelligence, that only makes things true!How deeply, how profoundly thou, poor man, Wilt have to understand and grasp the world, Ere thou canst calinmly recognize such horrors, Canst breathe a blessing on the dead and Death, Nay, feel a pleasure in the “hellish work ” As now it seems to thy woe-tortured heart! Yet thou wilt bless it, thou must bless it, if Thou art a man; and now thou art a man! The meaning of the world is in thy soul. And is not then thy soul the Spirit of God Which with the Universe and thee is one? And now if that wise Spirit should say to thee: “What can no longer live must simply die. Begrudge not death to her who goes to rest From life’s hard burden, nay, enjoy that rest Thyself; then thou hast loved her, lov’st her still.” ” - But was it needful then, the early death? And the hard life? - That is another thing.“Search out that too, and thou shalt find the truth.

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THE WO~LD-PRIEST. The present generation must needs bow, MIust even bow despairingly its neck Beneath the yoke of that necessity Which ignorance alone has laid upon it, That cannot comprehend the laws, nor yet The scope and spirit of the universe; Whence knowledge only by degrees sets free, The knowledge and fulfilment of the laws Of the universe and its indwelling Spirit Which, as its guide, dwells in the very heart. Man’s future also lies in man’s own hand, For God’s own Spirit is man in man’s domain. “- And yet my dear, dead love is lost to me, And holy wrath consumes me unto death!-” It is the very wrath of the good Spirit, It is naught else than goodness, love itself. ” And yet my dear, dead love is lost to me, And human woe is God’s own Spirit’s woe, Felt for man’s sake and shared in man’s poor heart. For naught else is, indeed, and lives, but God.” O man, then bear it worthily, divinely, ‘Tis only life thou bearest, and the soul! And therefrom is no living man released, And no dead man through all eternity! I04

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MANIV C4ANV DO HIS PART. MAN CAN DO HIS PART. HAT gainsay not, - that thou thyself hast seen: T With tears of admiration and with awe And mute astonishment thine eyes have seen Deny it not: There is a spirit in man That canl depart in peace; calm as a child; Serenely as a God; sated with life: So glad to see an end of earthly life, That to take leave forever of the earth, Of house and children, while the sun shall run His long, long race is but a shadowy Emotion; a light waving of the hand, And hardly more than a sweet, holy smile - And ill a smile the soul has passed away. And thou who hast beheld it, thou whose heart Was broken at such Godlike peacefulness, Such superhuman, sweet serenity… Oh deem thou not such sweet serenity Is superhuman - such a peacefulness Is human weakness! Nay, see clearly this With what exalted, Godlike freedom God l ived in His human image here on earth! How too His very death: is holy life, The silver glance upon His own still life. 5* I05

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. And oh! do thou prize high the human form! Esteem it blessed in its sweet repose,’ That it can say with tranquil sense of truth: In morning’s holy dawn my end shall come.” And in the holy dawning comes the end, The true end of the human form. That ends, But not the peace, which deep within itself Shut up the human heart, and took to itself The key, as if it were a coffin-key. And when so cleanly one has closed his life, And now reposes in such godlike peace, Oh not with tears of bitter wrath bewail The life, the leave-taking of such a one! No, but with tears of heavenly wonderment Which holy awe forces from earthly eyes!

And follow not with groans the smiling form Into the vault that hides it from thy sight, No, full of warm devotion, burning love, Sigh after it into that holy heaven, Whence it came forth and whither it returned, Even though its ife had never been before, And though itself were all dissolved therein. For what men name the Past is a great realm Like the great Future, only stiller, fairer! Io6

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TO THE WIDO fVER. TO THE WIDOWER. yES, all the dead are canonized; thy dead, She too is now exalted to a saint, The lofty, unattainable, divine Image, which nevermore thy hand may touch! And scarce thy thought may follow her from far As with an angel’s all too feeble wing. Aye! in the dead all mniracles come true! There is not one that remains unfulfilled In them, and every aureole crowns their head! And greater wonders shall thine eyes behold… When the loved form, so near thee in the flesh, So long illumined by the self-same sun With thee, that spoke with thee so tenderly Mysteriously is wafted from thine arms, Is borne away as a transfigured saint, Away, aloft, through all the heavenly spaces  And thou, thou lingerest here on the same earth! Still pluckest fruit from off the self-same trees From which she ate, still claspest to thy breast The very children she once bore to thee, Whom with her love she nurtured and trained up ‘lFo stand around thee like the forms of gods, And weep with thee for the sweet, gracious spirit I07

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Which in the heavenly form of loveliness Their mother was even here upon the earth. Then shall the ground waver beneath thy feet, The solid earth shall seem to thee a skiff That sways to break its moorings and launch forth Out on the world-wide sea, its anchor weighed And all its white sails flapping to the breeze But look abroad… those are the clouds there still, The solid earth still stands beneath thy feet In its accustomed place, and thou, thou still, Art standing here by the familiar trees, Thy children round thee, clinging to thy hands, In long, deep yearning inexpressible! The world has nzow becomze to thee a clear, True mziracle, and with thy human heart Must thou endure the burden sore of heaven, The holy load that killing, quickens thee, That weighs thee down,- yet gives thee angel-wings, Thou man of earth full of the spirit of heaven How one who stood before thee in the flesh Could from such sunshine vanish out of sight?… That by the grave thou sadly ponderest, And over thee the rainbow fades and dies. But take, now, wonder for wonder! joy for grief! How one, who was so long invisible, In such a sunshine can at length afiear? That by the infant’s cradle ponder thou With glad amazement! Lo! for the first time He opens to the light his wondering eyes! ios

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THE DEAD SON. THE DEAD SON. HE dead of night! the stars are bright in heaven. TI A father sits and watches by his dead, The darling only son of his old age. He turns his eyes from him, away, on high, And cries, after long silence, to those lights Ye are worth somzewhat, ye stars! Not many thousand Times more areye worth than the earth here is, Because thousands of times more numerous, No, worth so many thousand times the less, As ye are numerous, innumerableLike spiders, worth the less, the more ye countLike snakes, worth less, the more there are of you Like poison balls, the more, the terribler! Even to a God will I resign the task To sit and watch like me, beside a son, Whom He, like me, could never more awake, Whom with this sweet and gracious countenance, Incarnated in this angelic form, Neither in time nor in eternity Long as He lives shall He behold again. He too, like me, would swoon away; would dream, Would sleep a death-like sleep beside his dead, Then would he wake, would look away from him, Away, aloft, and say to those high lights: *Ye are worth somewhat, 0
ye stars! all, all Io9

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. More,- vastly, fearfully,- than this one here! Only one fault have I committed: -this, This only-that I ever made the world! No one but this! yet this one is enough, More than enough to break my ancient heart. It is no dream-he lies before me here So plainly visible, so palpable, With the calm, stony look that dead men wear Dead nevertheless!

and I alive withal! Alive, and with my old love-burdened heart. At love’s door must be laid, and there alone, The blame of all this sorrow for the dead, This bitter anguish over dying beds, Wringing of hands and sobs from breaking hearts Love only sheds these tears! Love only mourns, Will mourn, refusing to be comforted; The tears of love let no man think to dry! That I bestowed on man Love unto death… Oh! what a crime! how infinitely hard, Inexpiable, if the loving one Might not himself die of his very grief Over his dead, his dying, all dear forms Whom death has swallowed up! But now, indeed, A mortal, dying, may forgive me still! So, the sad father in his musing thought Would God, in his place, sorrow for His son.

But other help was yet appointed him: His wits that carried him beyond himself Had left him utterly beside himself… IIO

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THE DEAD SON. He dreamed that he was God, the aged father, And all untouched was now his aged heart By that dead man whom he no longer knew… Whose fate concerned him not, was not enough To draw a tear or even a sigh from him, When now the dead was carried to the tomb! Whom now he not so much as wished to see… Still less to meet him in another world. To his amazement, he himself grew sick, To his amazement died: he closed his eyes, And raised his hand, as praying to himself. That man I knew -I saw -amazed I saw, And for a moral spoke to you of him; For pain and death are only for Love’s sake, They would not be, if Love itself were not, And whoso loves, to him they too are Love And nothing else! Only that Love may be No mere delusion, no mere nightmare-dream Or dream of bliss, from which a man shall wake,Ah! this is why death is, and sorrow is, And dust and ashes shall be for all time, As truly as this whole great universe, Truly as God is, who is all Love! Not to create Love, is this world made fleeting; WVere there no world at all, Love would exist, But it would slumber; now it wakes, it glows, It loves, yet sees no longer what it saw. It is the blest blind spirit of the world, Which, all unseen itself, loves on forever. III *’ I I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. JOB: OR MAN. HERE is the man, has lived his eighty years, And is not weary at his heart of life? So tired and sated that he dreads no more To lay his meagre hands and fainting feet And breast and head down in the darksome grave? The soul shall vex and harass him no more; The sun may go his way, and Spring with him, To join the rest of all those old dead suns, That shall henceforth on life’s long pilgrimage, By him, gone hence, be willingly forgot, And he be glad that they are dead to him, As he is glad that he is dead to them. The dim and purblind eyes shall see no more, The deaf ears hear no more,… he is not le:t To wait out all the years of lapsing time, As children wait to see the stream run out, And weave them wreaths: till nightfall calls them home To sleep away their idle, childish wish. Ay, and how many, many weary youths Would be content, yea, glad to lay them down To their last sleep; and not to rise again Tomorrow morn or any morning more. So very slenderly do men esteem, Yea, even despise this world -so deemest thou. II2

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_OB: OR,MA4N. Men do not think thus lightly of the world, Do not despise, not even deprecate it: Tlhe uniziversal spirit is content With human hfe, then most content -enough To give up soul and body peacefully, When it so willingly will part forever! That is the comfort that the spirit needs On its long, long, eternally long flight, That all who here have rightly lived life out, Shall leave behind with joy the shell of earth; Else life would be God’s highest punishment… Upon its road a thousand hells would blaze Forever breathing out new poisonous flames. But blest by life, the spirit oncefor all Is satisfied with his eternal bliss, - Just as a child that on its mother’s breast Has drunk its fill so eagerly, that now Its eyes stand staring open, and its lips Tremble -like those of the worn-out old man; And both of them sink down in one sweet sleep The child to wake again to-morrow morn, Upon its mother’s bosom, still a child; The soul of the old man-as child again, To wake upon a greater mother’s breast, There spell-bound by the charm of blissful love. Does this throw light on a couplet of Gcethe’s: ” Thoza wozdst be leased with death? Then why with life Makest thou always such a strife?” -(?) T. H II3

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE GOOD GOD. HAT is the highest goodness of the spirit But this-to be content with all the world? First with itself to be content, and then With the whole world’s existence, and its own; With both, just as they are, to be content. Can, now, self-will attain contentedness? Can holy purpose: saying, I will be so? Can the mere dream: oh I will be content? Joyous? Then joyless, if perchance the world Should ever thwart it, or it thwart itself! One only dreams while sleeping, not awake. Truth is the only way to goodness, then, Self-satisfaction with the universe, If all that holds its place as true, allows Yea even constrains the soul to be content. For should the soul in this world find itself Nailed like a very martyr to the cross, Without the power to live or power to die… Should find itself so fastened to this world, Then could it rightfully bewail its being, Nay,‘twould do well, to curse its very self, In imprecation then would be its strength.It suffers wrong, is better than its fate, I 14

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THE GOOD GOD. And if the soul could not annihilate Itself, forsake itself, and sink to naught, One way were left: to hold fast on itself With all its might, and only be as good And fair and true as it could ever be, As He Himself would be, and say to the world, “Thou art not! Thou to me at least art naught; Thou shalt be but the ship whereon I sail! The flute through which I breathe my sorrows out!” If neither the ship nor flute were worthless now, If the whole voyage and all the songs were not Quite miserable; if not blind and wretched The eternal and unborn abortion lay In utter darkness, moaning after death! And thousands of sick men do wish for death, Even at the price: never to rise againThey lived, and now they die; for dying weans, By its pangs, from all desire of further life, The unhappy ones who here, irreparably And irretrievably, have suffered it -

Even though starving ones with all their children Were buried in a mountain full of bread! They have, without one word, sent hope back home.

Goodness is then the very ground of life, Even if life did not need it for its aim; For in the coffin it would come too late, Like morning’s meal -after the fall of night. Hard, hard it is even for one to be right good; Even to see suffering, rends the good man’s heart! Ir5

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THE WOORLD-PRIEST. Only the happy are at last the good; Only into a happy race, the king Pours joyfully his will and heart and mind; Man’s kingdom is the whole wide universe! That is his fair and gracious fatherland!

There shall no dust lie on a blade of grass, No rose-leaf rest upon a dead man’s lips! II6

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GOODNESS. GOODNESS. W HAT has not issued from a man’s own will, That which without his will has come to pass, Without his toil or skill, yea even without His knowledge,- that, one says, “befalls” a man, Is something “done to him,” “takes place” with him. And so the child is born without his will; Without his will he lives; he sees, he hears; Grows day by day, at last is full-grown man. He sees not to it that his heart shall beat; He has not so contrived it that his blood Should journey through his veins and home again Faithfully from its circuit to his heartStill less is it his will the sun should rise, The moon and all the stars; that spring should be; That so much as a blade of grass should shoot; A tree should blossom, or a fruit grow ripe!All this goes on around him, this is done To him in this his nearer body-world And round about him in the earth and heavens, Just as his body is a work going on. As quietly, without his thinking of it, His bride befalls him, sweet and gracious presence; His wife befalls him now; his children, too, Sweetly befall him, and the years of life, Without his toil or skill, without his thought… II7

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ZTHE WORLD-PRIEST. Till age and death befall him, too, at last. All that he has to do with all is this Truly to feel and clearly think it all. The inner ife - that is the work of man, His holy business - so indeed it seems! Yet what he ever is to feel and think This plainly is prefigured to him, too, By living forms made manifest to him; In pictures, as to children, clearly shown. How he shall feel and thinkis this alone Not something happening to him? done to him? When not his body only makes a part Of his experience, but the universe Around him is itself lived by him too? Each smallest cloud and every drop of rain, And every flower and shadow of a flower? - Nay, even the soul is something lived by him! Life is breathed into him and out of him, Him-his profound and very self: the spirit, Thze universal spirit that lives all lives. The spirit has power to give in its will To all that happens round him and within him; And if he has the wisdom to do this, Then do we call him good; and even the spirit Of the universe men therefore call the Good. And “goodness” can to none mean or be more Than this: as calmly to resign one’s will Into his own existence, life and lot, As a child does into its growing frame, Peacefully, as a tree into its shadow! II8

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TO THE WIDOoW. TO THE WIDOW. OOR wife, who standest bending o’er the grave, p t To see the coffin slowly sink, and hear The dull earth’s dismal rattle on the lid, O thou, thou art at thy most bitter hour! Earth’s type of woe, to suffocation full Of deepest agony; thy bosom sobs; The tears rush down in torrents from thine eyesYes, from tlzy eyes indeed,- but ah, their source Is the great fountain of the universe, The fount of Love; -yea, they gush forth from God. God, only, sheds the tears that flow from thlee, For God is all of life, and all of love. God only does all living and all loving, Where life is, and where love; and only He Is there, where sorrow is, Death and the grave. Love-Life - Death - God hath not invenited them, He from eternity was Life itself, And will be blissful life;.n love and death While He abides-that is, eternally. Thou gazest still into the grave which never Is full, and shudderest to think that soon That too will close, and this sad hour be gone! That even man’s yearning, too, is transitory. IIg

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Thou soul of God, look up, bethink thyself Where-where, then, they have buried thy best friend! Where? - in the earth!“thy look disconsolate says. But now, consider, then,- what is the earth? The silver-dew, from all the ethereal virtues Of heaven distilled, the holy, heavenly drop, Precipitate of all the elements, Aye,‘tis a tear of God, that from His eye, Moistened with tender melancholy, fell. And as the glistening drop of silver-dew Out of the rose’s cup exhales again, So will, one day, the drop of earth exhale. And, mourning wife, thy dead man’s tranquil face Is buried in the bosom of the heavens, Aye in God’s hand - in the blest head of GodIneffably more sacred and secure Than underneath a perishable shrine, Though smoked with incense of a thousand years. God is man’s grave, and is his monument. And if man must be buried and shall be, Begrudge him not for holy sepulchre, God’s Spirit-the only holy, blessed one! And in it thou too shalt one day find room. God is man’s grave-thou dear humanity! I20

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THE BEGGAR-MAN.z THE BEGGAR-MAN. ET thy great heart, I pray thee, be content, Thy Godlike heart, too good and all too large, Beloved man! Set every thought at rest About the future fate of yonder sun, That roams through heaven above there like one lost, Or of that starry flock that nightly strays, As if it had no shepherd, through the skies. They live, each one, their several, single lives, And every life comes to a perfect end, Even when it breaks off, goes down suddenly; Each up to the last moment was divine. How it shall fare, too, with the human race One day, with all the women and the men, The old men and the children numberless, \Who yet shall come, all on the self-same earth, Pass over it and disappear again… Make not thyself uneasy about that; The million deaths will all pass by through time, As lightly and as softly, as thy hand Passes with gentle motion o’er thy eyes. What troubles thee, that is not trouble, nay, It is the blessedness, great and complete, Thou feelest for all, to think that each of them 6 I2I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Shall feel it also, as thou feelest it; That all shall yet be rich, as thou art rich, In this great beauteous mansion full of dreams, Where under heavy blossom-laden trees The dead are softly carried to the grave; Where by the side of graves and over them, The mothers stand with infants on their breasts And where his dirge is sung even at the grave Of the poor beggar-man, - then no word more Is said of him, the sun tells nothing of him, All knowledge of him perishes from earth And yet he daily came with hat in hand, And begged and prayed, with his old withered faceAnd thou, thou gavest him, and he gave thanks And breathed a prayer, and thou too joinedst him In praying for a higher, holier thingWhich no one heard, no not the sun himself! Each knows about hiniself; that is enough. Each lived his life, and so, divinely lived. Aye, let him rest! as rests the beggar-man, So shall the world one day in blessed peace, Nay,-
even to-morrow! For all future time Is nothing but one great to-morrow!

nay Who names to-morrow names eternity! 122

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THE CA USE OF DEA TH. THE CAUSE OF DEATH. HE cause of death is birth -and nothing more, T And nothing other than a holy one; For what has once begun, must end again. So is there only a good ground for death: The holy spfiirit’s yearning to be man! ‘Tis clear: to have been born in no disgrace Nor any unishmzent for a human child, That had not been, is just beginning man, To finish him again, when life shall end. To inherit sin is quite impossible, And if one should entail it,‘twere a shame. For sin is something each who does it does For himself alone; for every soul is free; And taking sin away is impossible. Each has a burden of his own to bear And none can take my seeing to himself, And none can take my hearing to himself, And hear twice over and see twice at once, And none can take himself the pangs I feel From burning coals I carry in my hands. Naught can take sin away but to know this: That error is the school-time of right-doing; That every one is good as God’s own Spirit. I23

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THE HWORLD-PRIEST. That no one sins, but freely struggles on (Oft-times through direful deeds) to a Godlike sense Of his own being and a Godlike life. A father’s poverty one may inherit, A mother’s woe, their very blood, their fate, Their evil passions, and their enemies, Their friends no less, and their good works as well, Thefruits of sin, - but never sin itself. But death is not one of the bitterest fruits Early, too early death may only strike The child of parents who have gone astray. But not parental only, no, all faults Of all mankind from immemorial time Must ever weigh upon each race and child; For no one lives from earliest childhood up Who has not reproduced, inherited, And as a man enjoyed all good, that men Have ever brought to pass in olden time; And no one lives from tenderest childhood up, Without experiencing, inheriting, And expiating all evil as a man That overcame his people in old time. So we are suffering to this very day For the old superstitions of the yews And for their hope-we Germans, who, in sooth, Have never cherished fear or hope of theirs And of the old Greek child’s-play of the Gods, Their priests and priestesses and their Pythia Who still transforms herself into a boy; And for the ancient Roman’s lust of sway, I24

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THE CAUSE OF DEATH. Although twice shattered on the German rock. And all the nonsense, all the slavery The nzind has ever suffered,‘tis our task To do away, and feel as truth of God The mighty universe, and clearly feel Its spirit as our own.- Yea that is what Shlall to all nations be our legacy. The entire human race is one, one man, One spirit dwells diffused throughout the whole, And in the human form the spirit gains A longer and a hafiier life indeed, - But not exein.tion evermiore from death! For all the race of innocent flowers - die! The woods in all their innocence-they die! The ever innocent tribes of fishes -die Yea even the holy stars themselves too-die, They that have never even harmied a child! That never did a wrong, but only lived! The spirit’s “mind to live” and “mind to die,” Tlat is the only cause of death!‘tis God! A1nd blesseder or fairer know f none! And none more devilish than revenge and sin! Poor Jew, thou that inventedst Paradise, Farewell! Farewell to thee forevermore! [ let thee go, for God and all the heavens! The death of the whole human family Confounded thee; fain would’st thou make it clear; And as the death of such a multitude Of innocent beings to thy mind appeared The horridest of all barbarities, I25 0

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THE Tl’ORLD-PRIEST. Thou wouldst derive it (thought of horror fit To strike men dumb!) not from a Father no, But from a tyrant of such monstrous type As thou didst need to serve thy desperate turn A Father, savage tribes could scarcely match! ‘Twas his delight to tempt and to seduce His host of children to a tree of Life! Instead of murdering them all outright. Never have been created mortal men; No living pair was ever cursed with death; Immortally in ever-changing forms Heaven’s blessed spirit lives its proper life. And everlasting all are that do live, Or ever shall live. That is the redemption, Thine own redemption too, poor, trembling Jew! 126

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LIVE AS AN IMMORTAL. LIVE AS AN IMMORTAL. W HEN a young mother and a blooming bride Mourns her dead child -when from the lover’s arms Death tears his darling-from the man his wife - Then do they weep and sorrow piteously. But why then do they weep and sorrow so? One thing is sure, they would not weep and wail If they had courage to die with them. Then They would be calm and restful as their dead. … And wherefore have they not the strength to die? They count this life the highest, sweetest good, Which they would fain possess and cling to still, (Theirs is not then the very highest love) And which the dead have lost, who now no more Enjoy the love of dear ones left behind, As they, the living, do henceforth no more The love of their departed ones -this pains, This crushes, kills their courage… and they weed. But mark! men never weep these coward tears In heat of battle; weep not for their dead, Nor for their death shed tears even when they fallThey know,‘tis true, no higher thing than life, I27

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2THE WORLD-PRIEST. - Only they quite forget to think of life; They seek for something as immortal men, Quite fearless, reckless, - so they do not weep; They neither weep nor wail; they fight, they conquer. Whoso will conquer must forget his life, And, as immortal, battle joyously. The daring man who leaps into the sea To snatch a drowning woman from the waves, Lives in that moment only, wholly; not For yesterday he lives, not for to-morrow; Things great and good and beautiful and brave, Are done, each one of them, beyond all time; And he who feels himself apart from time Feels himself quite beyond the reach of fiower; This only makes man free and glorious. Nor is it among men so rare a thingThis feeling of the eternal;‘tis possessed By all who ever look into man’s eye, Who look upon a loved one’s radiant face And hear the true and tender words of love. And fearless would defenceless children be Before the mightiest tyrant, did they not Think of the morrow! Living in the moment, That makes men Gods.

Yes; in the moment nowAll virtue, all things great, appear to thee; The sun pours through the moment all his fire - And the day’s hirelings are the evening’s slaves, Whom over night the morning binds anew! I 28

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PERFECTION.I PERFECTION. ILT thou charge God himself, as Death, as murderer, When the ripe apples fall from off the tree? Pluck’st thou not the ripe clusters off, thyself, And do not the fair, innocent children pluck Ripe strawberries with unstained consciences? “They are perfected!”

Let the holy truth Whisper the magic word, to give thee peace, And even to cheer thee, when thou seest the tribes Now coming to perfection, perfect now, And gone like all the fair things once perfected. Perfection has itself no further aim, It is the end of all things, pure and clear, The Heavenly consummated on the earth. Nothing comes after it,- when once the rose Moulders, and man’s dissolution comes, Which is no more, which leads to nothing higher, Nor can lead.‘Tis to vanish out of sight, Become invisible, yea, cease to be, And give God back the spirit and the stuff For the sublime completion of new works. For all must be completed that begins; The spirit, too, must as man complete itself. Thou marrest, man, thy God’s own holy life, I29 6* I

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THE WORLD-PRIEFST. Disturb’st the holy blessed perfecting, When thou dost violate thy human form, So that the holy blossom it contains Never blooms out nor ripens into fruit. For know thou this: that the divine perfection, (And even the strawberry and the purple grape, The very violet also, has its own Divine perfection, fair as perfect man’s) - Yea know thou this: that the divine perfection Is bliss; the struggle for completion is, Itself, before it comes, and while it lasts, Not afterward, when the completion’s past. Even so the mother feels in her new-born And perfect infant, the divine perfection, And bathes it with still tears of ecstasy; She faints with bliss; her child cries in her stead; Perfect, complete, as child, which will, as man, Henceforth perfect itself through coming life, With help of all the influence and power And blessing of the earth and sun and sky, The magic virtue of the starry heaven That shall thrill through him to the very heart, Through all his holy frame; shall call to him…

From all old days of God in a mild voice, Laden with fragrances of happy hours, As airs waft up from vales the breath of spring. And as the mother o’er her child, so thousands Rejoice over the perfecting of thousands -

Thousands who filled while living here on earth Complete existence; even as these rejoiced I30

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PEREFECTION. While here, in the perfected work of art, The picture or the statue born complete, Out of the marble; or the master-piece Of poet, or the singer’s witching strain. Yet every thing that is complete, is dead And gone, as any thing beneath these heavens Can be, whether it be the frame of man, The spirit, even the life, the past-which also Is gone, softly and sweetly borne away On every morn’s and every evening’s wings…

Yet to the spirit that has lived it once, A sure possession for Eternity!

Just as a master of his art lives on To ripe old age and still perfects himself, Who in his life wrought many a perfect work, Which came from him, a portion of his lifeNay which he was himself, and which he is, like that great Master of all things, which here Are called the works of God… and are his lif: The fruits of that gigantically great Immortal orange-tree which evermore Stands full of blossoms, full of little grafts, And full of glowing, ripe and golden fruitThe tree of life-not the great poison tree.

I3I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. SORROW. HE sorest sufferings grief alone can heal T And make the miserable endurable, Yea, sweet and precious, - till the noble man Would scarce exchange it for another good. Grief is not powerless, weak, it nourishes A mighty strength; for sorrow none can feel But he who has his heart filled full with love, Beauty, truth, freedom and fidelity.

Only as these are precious goods to him, Living realities and energies, So only can great sorrow too be his, As these are stirred within him mightily And shed a burning and a shining light. Her sorrow makes the dead child more and more Dear to the mother’s eyes, felt more and more As something indispensable to her life, The more it throbs, and burns and pains her heart. Sorrow is next of kin to joy itself, Health, honor, freedom and the sense of right: It is itself all they that feel themselves Vitally wounded; sorrow for disgrace Is wounded honor; sorrow for untruth, Love disappointed; were not they aggrieved, I32

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SORROW. The heavenly ones, who then could suffer? None Could without these feel sorrow, none complain. Then all were well and all things right and good, Naught could be lost from life, nor could there be Aught to desire; for who could miss aught dear, If he had ne’er possessed a precious thing?

Knew nothing noble - were not so himself? Honor thou every one’s pure sorrow, then, As his most holy temple, as his soul Honor another’s sorrow as thine own! The husband’s from whom death has snatched his wife; The wife’s, who lays her husband in the grave; The little roe’s that moans o’er a dead dam; The starling’s, robbed of his dear little ones The bee’s, whose hive the bear has broken through. Respect it, oh respect a people’s grief, That cries for rescue from the oppressor’s sway, Whose tyrannous hand has grasped its highest good, And keeps them barren to himself and all. But the most cruel of all men is he Who shuts the mouths of holy sufferers Against complaint, murders the soul’s desire. To stifle righteous wishes is a murder, A fouler one than killing living men, Who have a rest and refuge in the grave. He drives out love and Godlike sentiment, Scourges the sorely wounded till they bleed; He tortures dying men’with burning tongs; He tears the tongues of angels from their mouths.

Be tranquil, O my brothers; for your grief I33

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Has to the most high God a sacred worth: He gave to sorrow to be deumb, and so, And only so, to do its utmost work With men, who then can rescue, help and save; He gave the least as well as greatest grief Intangibility, that so no tyrant, No villain should discern, should rob man of it; That by its very magnitude and might The sufferings of all men it should heal, Break through for mortal men the gates of heaven That they might freely enter in to God; That it might stir their love into a blaze, That it might superfuse them with its grace, And fill their hearts with all its energy. Sorrow is terrible -when it descends, Girded and harnessed with an angel’s strength, Transformed to an avenger, God’s own arm, Raised above every sorrow of its own, Yet flying to relieve the suffering worm, Not to say, all its living, kindred souls! Grief is a coming home to the old Heaven, And thus it heals all human suffering With bitter wailings and with thousand tears. I34

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BE CONTENT WITH THY LOT.‘35 BE CONTENT WITH THY LOT. ONE thing be warned against, my brother man: Take not the griefs of all men for thy grief!

Abstain from heaping up, nay, dragging down, The fates of all upon thy single head, As a child pulls the boiling kettle down Upon his head and scalds himself to death. Of all misfortunes only one hits one, At most, and rarely two: of all the host Of countless maladies, each one attacks But one, proves fatal but to him alone: Not all the goods of earth can fall to one; Each one must find some flowers along his path, And though they should be only few and small And common, such as grace the common road. The dying and death of generations past None feels and none remembers any more; Only the death of dear ones stirs his heart And harrows the friend’s heart -that is enough! Brings tears from out his eyes-and that’s enough! Yet neither grief nor floods of tears avail To lift the poorest man to man’s full bliss, That he may live in manly dignity In his majestic, beauteous, heavenly realm!

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THE’ORLD-P?RIEST. Even if it be our doom to weep and wailEven if renunciation sad and long Is iart and parcel of the life of man; Perhaps makes up the sweetest, wholesomest Part of man’s life and gives it inmost worth Bequeathed from the primeval world, from God, And given to man, that he may be a man; And without which he were no genuine man, How rich soever and how prosperous; How strong soever and unfortunate; Do not for that double, nay multiply A thousand-fold thine own, thy proper grief! See not thy lot repeated on all stars In all the universe a million times! See not up yonder, in those countless worlds, Thousands of millions lying sick to death! See not ten thousand suffering every hour, Closing their eyes in death… see not the earth Heaped o’er the grave and sodded with fresh greels And in the sunlight gleaming drearily! Thou seest scarce aught, save Death, the all-destroyer, Thou seest not Life, the inexhaustible!

Thou dost not see and feel thy living self! And all thy dear ones, round about thee, glad, Thou seest already as men doomed to death, And so even now as scarcely living men;Not glowing in the fulness of their life, In the fresh spirit of the living God; Thou seest not the miracle of their sweet, Serene, content, and beautiful existence. Thine eyes have played thee false and made thee see I36

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BE CONTENT WITH THY LOT. I37 The universe as one vast charnel-house; The Spirit thou hast dreamed a murderer, And God the great, only self-murderer! Save for thine own thy love, and spend on them Thy grief, thy pity and thy holy sighs! Love to’thine own, that only is no dream, Sorrow and lamentation for thine own Alone is true, alone will fill thy heart! Only what thou canst truly, wholly feel, Sincerely in thy bosom’s sacred depths, Is worthy and is right for thee to feel, As pith and kernel of thy inmost life, Its solid strength anid noblest ornament! Thus, only thus, thou dost not dissipate Thy heart, but gatherest all its energies Into a life worth living, made more sweet, Sweetest of all, by sorrow’s bitterness! Let, then, thy little dwelling be to thee The busy workshop, the divine abode, Wherein transpires in full and heavenly truth What anywhere and any time takes place And ever can take place. Then hast thou work, Divine employment in the life and weal Of those that God has given thee, hast enough To fill thy soul, in a divine concern For their misfortunes, aye even for their death! And one thing more is given to man:‘tis thisThough he should miss all private happiness Though he should have none but unfortunates, Always and only sufferers in his house, In the German: anjwhven.

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7THE WORLD-PRIEST. He would have labor, sad and feverish toil, Care urgent, constant, indispensable Yet even in sorrow love remains to him; Sorrow itself shall by the magic power Of kindly deeds be wondrously transformed, Transfigured utterly to love, itself Through patient practice, ever ready help, And cordial sweet reward of grateful looks; So that good, anxious neighbors round about Would have to bear him off with violence And drag him with barbarity from his home And his sick wife! And he with bitter moans, Would die far off, because his dear ones now Had him no more… no more his faithful love! This is the human heart in all its fire And courage on the day of life’s great fight; So simple, modest, and divine a feeling Has man, and every one of woman-kind; Whose only merit in her own eyes is To make the father and the children glad; Who, without any pride, dies of pure grief That without her, her darlings will be sad, Ah!

will no more have her! and so she sinks Her soul has passed into the heaven of love, To power and glory and eternal life! Hold, then, good brothers, only to your ow;n./ Let each one cling to his own kith and kin, Behold them live! and live for them alone! So shall each heart and every home be blest, A blessed, heavenly kingdom on the earth. I38

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THE LONVG NIGH T. THE LONG NIGHT. N sleep thou hast but empty images Of all the friends who ever lived with thee, And have been torn from thee since childhood’s years; Thy very mother is a shadowy shape: Nay, all that round about thee live to-day, All that goes on around thee far and near, A thousand starlights unperceived by thee, The clear full moon up yonder in the night, The child that lies there sleeping at thy side All these have but a phantom-life for thee, They are not the expression - the express Image they make upon thy soul, but only The i~,nUression they have made upon thy heart, Have left behind; the feeling (nothing more) With which thou ever hast felt, hast taken them in, And now in silence still retainest them. The whole world now is nothing else to thee Than what thou dreamedst it in waking hours; The temples and the Gods are all to thee Only a dream, thy dream; powerless now Are all of them, on thee and on thy soul: The priest and lamb are both alike to thee, And lamb and wolf are one, and sun and spark. I39

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7THE H,ORLD-PRIEST. Thus art thou even now by night a spirit, Exalted far above all mortal things, And half of all thy lifetime thIou art this Thou hast existence without God or heaven, So wholly without will and without blame, Without belief or even superstition, Or wishes, which by day lead men astray, Which only serve by day, by day avail, As light, again, serves only in the night. In dream even love itself is naught to thee; The withered leaf then wrings out tears from thee! Thy mother dies and gives thee not a pang! A shining pebble is a great full moon. Thy very child is a strange child to thee And in the night - explain it as thou wilt Al tlie nigliht long t/1o ar/ biut half of afe, Thze spirit in repose, cal/i, color~ess; And as night evermore returns to thee, No one can tell thee whether with the sun Thou shalt arise to higher, better life, Thyself be better, when thine eyes once more Chain thee to busy day’s vast circling stir, Whence each successive night releases thee And even the very best and wisest men, The mightiest and the most aspiring kings, They all are in the night what thou too art. And every one of them night after night Repeats it million ways one half his life O Death! thou longer sleep! thou long, long night! How fair thou canst and wilt be! how divine! I40

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THE SUN-SICK. THE SUN-SICK. [A PEGUAN EASTER SONG.*] H OW will the great Somebody be amazed, When He one day awakes from His long sleepAnd sees so many beauteous, Godlike works Wrought out and gloriously perfected, \VWhich He in His long sleep had thought upon, \Vhiile His old suzn-sickness lay heavy on Him, Whlereof men call the short and fleeting share That falls to them their “waking hours,” their ” life!” How will the great Somebody be amazed On waking from His drowsy sun-sickness! That glorious resurrection would I share, I surely in that festal joy shall join! What is a rising from the grave, to that? A bitter memory of the ancient woe; And bliss comes only with release from woe! But thou hast all the worldfor recolmpense! * The Peguans believe that God has gone to sleep in the world, and will not till a future day arise upon it. 14I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE COMPLAINT CLEARED UP. -VHEN thou behold’st how the old people mourn And hear’st how with one voice they all complain Who are for ever and for evermore, Changed from young children into sad old men, And breathe out imprecations on this life, And curse the day that ever gave them birth, And wish the sun and moon and all the stars Were not and never had begun to be, Rather than that they should so spend their days In vanity, having naught of life but deathGive them mild hearing then, yet understand The meaning of their passionate, sore complaint; This understand: It is not life they curse, Nay, properly they imprecate not death In any wise as their deliverer From sorrow, or as only ending it; This understand: they only rightly curse This old, worn-out and good-for-nothing frame, Which serves even God no livingfztrfiose more; Wherefore He breaks it up and lets it die. Note well: this plaint wrung from the human soul, This wail from all humanity around, Is mediately the wail of God Himself And is the earnest of eternal life. Then rather welcome it! it shall be hushed; And all the young life in the universe Has in its joy forgotten it again! And thou forget it too, beloved soul! 142

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OUR GOD. OUR GOD. G OD only lives, the ever busy force; And had there ever been a human spirit That had, in man’s form, lived eternally So without God, as if itself a God, And thereupon this man had one day died, And nevermore henceforth could anywhere Be found in all the boundless universe, When he had once lived out his earthly day, And done his work as man, and closed his eyes Forever on the light of sun and moon Then would a man only have lost the man! That mani of an eternity gone by, The second God, the self-subsistent man, He would have had his going down, he would Have forfeited his fuiture-nothing more; Even as a blossom shaken from the tree Loses its fruit; and yet’tis not the bud Loses the fruit; the tree, the garden does So, too, the man who has already lived Half an eternity, would not have lost His future, for when he was now no more, There could be no one, no one left to cry And make a moaning sound: “Ah, I am lost! Woe! I have lost myself.” Not one! Not one! Nor could a God cry: “Thou art lost to me!” For not to Him this no one could belong. I43

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7THE WORLD-PRIEST. And in like manner would it also be, Had man been first created at his birth, For at the great counter-creation: death, He would have been extinguished and unmade, Nay, would have been made over then forever, Yet would he not have lost the future then, The second half of his eternity, For then there would be no one who could cry And moan aloud: ” Ah I have lost myself!” God only, the great Gardener, He must say: “Lo!

I have lost a fruit! ” But never thus The gardener speaks, when from the bending tree He gathers the ripe fruit in baskets full The end, the consummation of the fruit, That is the very joy for which he longs. A hard, unmerciful poet of old time, Only as an apology for death, Created once a “Master” who made man, As potter’s work from clay of Paradise, And sternly warned him from his Tree of Life, Lest haply this His ware might live forever! Might be forsooth immortal as Himself… Thus kindling in man’s breast Himself, the first Real ambition to be of the Gods! Then, others feigned a “Father”* of mankind But half as jealous, and so lenient As to give man a spark from His own self, That should enable him to see the right. *The Heavenly Father: before Homer. I44

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OUR GOD. And others still, who honored high as heaven The tender love of mother to her child, Ard grudged not to a mother a whole world - Adored a,Wother* both of Gods and men And all the stars that glittered in the heavens, And of all creatures, even the woodland roe. But the great Spirit is not Father or Mother. He is the very Being in all Beings, And if we should not count it robbery To be like God, and no disgrace to God (As even many an ancient sage himself Deemed not, when he divinely looked on things) So God counts not for robbery and disgrace To be a man, and be all gentle creatures. And must we too be perfect as God is, Then should we men be able to do this: Partake the self-same nature, self-same spirit; And then, and only then, will it be true: Whate’er thou dost to men thou dost to God, Thy father is thy God, humanly near; The humanly near Goddess is-thy mother; Thv wife-the heavenly Queen on earth is she, She in thy arms, the mother of thy children Now; this our God who has at last appeared Himself on earth, to all men gives Himself And to all creatures; all who come to live On earth and in all regions of the heavens, AQd even the wondrous body of the bee, * The great Mother. J I45 7

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. The rose is not too small or mean for Him; The cloud, the very shadow, not too fleetingFor He is everlasting! and the world Is holy, and all beings in all worlds Are holy, for the Holiest dwells in all! And He who in His fulness dwells with all, Through all and in all, one and whole in all, He never yet, upon His heaven-wide way, Through His long first eternity till now, To this bright sunlighted To-day of earth, Has lost a single flower, or leaf of flower, And least of all a single human child - Which by his being and spirit lived indeedHe has made all -
yea, all of them His own, With all their joys and all their love, His own With all their beauty and with all their works, Upon His broad and boundless heavenly way Through His long first eternity till now To this bright sunlighted To-day of earth… And on His broad and boundless heavenly way On through His second long eternity Still will He make all creatures’ life His own With all their pleasures and with all their love, With all their beauty, all their blessedness. To see Him with thine eyes, His life, His ways, Until thine eyesight fades into His light, - That now, O man, is thy felicity; That is His tranquil blessedness in thee, His inly sweet, serene self-consciousness. I46

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REDEMPTION FROM LIVING DEATH. T47 REDEMPTION FROM LIVING DEATH. THIS is no more the question, whether thou Shalt live and last, long as the heavens endure; Thou shalt last while the heavens endure. But this Should be for thee the question, this thy care, How from it all thou shalt come out at last; How thou mayest yet be free and rid of life All coming time so long as heaven endures, Which must endure, even though the stars, one day, Should bloom out, wither away and run to seed-As the mere flowers of the heavenly fieldThat thou no more shalt rise again in that New, greater spring-time, when the same old power Whose impulse stirred the dust to its first bloom Shall kindle it to a second bloom, and yet A third, and so forever, till it soars To shine as constellations in the heavens. But tell me now: who then is tired of LIFE? Who ever could be? and who really is?

(Since naught e’er finds existence tiresome, As sea and water tire not of each other.) The Indians -the best minds and purest of themThey have in use an open sesame,

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Once and for all to free themselves from life, That so they may attain to a dead calm, (Which is just what God shuns and hates and flees, And plunges ever young into young life.) And how do they get freedom from the world, From power and from the very hands of God? By living pure in spirit, pious, good, Despising gold and goods, and property, More than they need for clean and holy lives. For holiness, and holiness alone, Can set them free from God, the world and life. Thus do they dream to be released from life, And only live divinely human life, Without ennui, as the divine life is And their delusion: to be rid of life Is the unconscious yearning: to be man, As pure as God can be, to be a man: They know no master and acknowledge none, As consciously both freemen and divine; They know no slaves and they acknowledge none; They reverence flowers as the mute gods of earth, Respect as equals all things that have life, That fly or creep or stand like rigid rocks The very temple is to them a beast With giant feet reposing on the earth. Womran is not, with them, distinct from heaven, Nor yet from earth - as being a nearer heaven, The Mother Earth, only so sweet and fair, That they are fain to clasp her in their arms. I48

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RPEDEAIPTION FRPOM LIVIN’G DEATH. They teach their children piously: to flee From life (that is, satiety of life) For, but for t,hat, they would be glad to live. WVith weariness of life even God Himself Appears to them a slave, the lowest slave, \Who mnzust exist, whom nzotliitg canz release, Since neither rope nor dagger can he find, Nor poison-cup for his deliverance, Nor coffin, grave, nor vault for his repose. This holy yearning understand thou well! For wouldst not thou too, gladly, then, be rid Of all the weariness of life, its load Of flesh, and the soul’s heavy burden, too, Of shame, servility, and servitude, And be as free as a God is-who can die! I know a man, who well can teach thee this; And if thou wishest nothing more of him Than what shall give thee overflowing bliss, And what shall, day and night, and near and far, Fill all thy soul with holy impulses, WVhat, when possessed, yea most, when torn from thee, Shall be worth more than sun and moon and starsThou wilt have cause to be content with him! I know him by experience-hear his name; It is the man veiled under zuomzan’s form, Who as fair virgin loves thee ardently, Whom thou so lovest, that thou wooest, win’st her, And clingest to her bosom blissfully… Till little men and little women soon I49

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7THE WORLD-PRIEST. Crowd thee away from it, young blooming gods, For whose sake thou dost lift the fervent prayer That heaven’s high house may stand for evermore! This earth forever like a garden bloom! The very strawberry and apple-tree Which they enjoy, may never die nor fail, Much less, the mother with her children perish, Nor thou - that thou mayst see their heavenly life, And hope through them eternal life to win! The heart-that is thy home, and not the earth! The home is all thy fortune-not the world! The blessed saints, are: husband, wzfe and child. I50

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LOVE TO ALL, FAITTH IN ALL THINGS. 151 LOVE TO ALL, FAITH IN ALL THINGS.

THE highest faith is to believe in all All things! as highest love is love to all! All things have always been and ever are Believed on; for whatever is, is true. And all things always have been and will be Beloved, as little fishes by the fish. But that in thee love lives and loves, in thee A lofty moral sentiment is throned, This is thy knowledge only,‘tis no faith - Thy knowledge: that love lives in all who live, And fair morality in every heart. Just as thou knowest that thou art, and not Merely believ’st it; else were thy existence, The holyfeeling of existence too, A nd even self-consciousness, only - a dream Of thine, about - some other than the dream:Thyself, (say,) the believer, who believes Only that he believes, and nothing more; And is no more, for he himself is not. But only from conviction faith can come, For faith has a fixed object to believe, For faith is only a belief in God, In all His wonders, might and majesty And glory in all worlds for evermore! But then, the more thou learn’st and knowest of Him; The more thy knowledge takes from thy belief; The nzore securely livest thou, all live, In the true light that lights the universe.

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TEHE WOR’LD-PRIEST. THE DESPERATE AND REPROBATE. OD is a Spirit, is a thinking thought, G Z For He it is that lives through all that live, And He is they, and, they are none but He. God is enthroned in no one single place; In the whole boundless space there is no Heaven, Secluded and partitioned to a hall - His Heaven is the whole boundless universe. No door-keepers has He, no worms of earth For champions and patrons of His Heaven; All who are born already live therein. If they could shut up heaven against one soul… Or grant it to one soul as boon of grace, Because it had on earth obeyed their mind, And disavowed God’s holy majesty; Oh, He would crush them with a thunderbolt; They would not be, were they not powerless And vain against the better sense of man. The Spirit of God is full of His own truth. How graceless were a God, who must, by prayer, Be reconciled to His own very self. How shameless, if a single creature should Have superfluity of righteousness Enough to ransom others out of hell, I52

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THE DESPERATE AXD REPROBATE. 1531 If one soul could be righteous for another. God’s Spirit would renounce the God with scorn; And aoes renountce, for God needs not a God-! Only let all who live know this full well: God’s Spirit lives the self of all who live: Let each revere himself then and all others, Then all the world has freedom, joy and peace. 7*

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. PUT AWAY THE SWORD! W HY can a bear never become a Turk?

A Christian, Fohist, Jew, or minister With his black coat and his blue stockings on? The holy answer lifts thee with sublime Sense of thy worth above the slavish word Of excommunication on thy race, Which flouts in fearless freedom all such bans, Annuls and flings them on the old heap of lies. Had it been possible, how gladly would Mahomet have transformed with his Koran All lions, bears, wolves, serpents, into Turks He would himnself have armled them with the sword, If they could otherwise have grasped his sword, Than with their teeth, indeed, and their sharp claws. No one can change the nature of a bear! While bears exist, no one can take from them Their skin, till they are dead, slain by his hand. No God has given the lion Godlike gifts; No sword, no book, brings them the Spirit of God: No sword, no book, can take away from men Reason and wisdom, honor and the sense Of things divine, of Godlike quality. I54

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PUT AWAY THE SWORD! Who, now, is man? and Who, who lives his life? Thou knowest, and all acknowledge it with joy. What does he give, who cannot give me God? And having God, I learn of Him to know Him. Lo! this is why no bear can be a Turk! This, faithful mother, let none take from thee, That thou art thy child’s mother, thou alone; No other woman of all other women Could be his mother in the whole wide world, None but thyself; none other owns thy child, And thou his only mother art to him. Let thizs move thee to sweet and sacred tears! Who now of human teachers were so blind, Conceited and presumptuous as to say To any mother… as in mockery… ” O
mother, love, I pray thee, love thy child!” And to the child, ” Love thou thy mother, do.” HiI;nself had learned itfroi the nmother first! Himiself had first beheld it in the child! The very ox and ass, dumb brutes, have seen This at the crib; the ass has learned it too And understood it by the foal his child! Who could give love to the wild ass and foal? Who could give love to the maternal heart? Who in a child’s heart could awaken love?

Only: “the way” in which one could love best, Thai, haply, a wise person still might show, Who had experience of his own: afather; This the unmarried knows not, knows not thus! I55

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THE WORLD-PRIES T. This, thou true mother, let none take from thee, That in thy heart thou cherishlest a love At which thy child’s eyes sparkle with deliight’ And if thou weepest -makes it weep with thlee’ That one has loved, now, and has rendered help, That was his own good luck and merit too; No miani becomies on that accozunzt his slave,Sure, no one is the slave of his own love! Not to say, slave of any other’s love, Of living men, and least of all, the dead. This, faithful father, let none take from thee! 156

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ANATIQUITY.’ ANTIQUITY. O F this one childish error clear thy mind: Thy reverend antiquity is not That of the old, eternal universe! Thy ancient times are only the young days Of the earth’s childhood; for the earth itself Is nothing but an out-blown water-lily Floating on that enormous ocean-pond Which, never-wasting, heaves eternally, “The ether,” sprung from the primeval seed. A,aight e’er began; the sef-irepeating life Goes on forever in the self-same place. The earliest grass-blade, withered now long since, Once it was green! the yesterday, now torn In shreds, and lost, was once bright as to-day! The first weak word of the first human child Was a primeval, an eternal one, But seeming new as coming from new lips! And every thing the ancient folks believed, Was nothing but a new-born childhood’s faith; And all that was divine in its own breast, That every race imputed to its gods. It is not that all gods were but one God One God was all gods, one god was all men; I57

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THE WOIRLD-PRIES7: And where they worshipped God, the gods too were In bodily form, like man who worshipped them. The being called man was but the wondrous eye To see them first, and see them in such way As his eye shaped them. God eternally Conteinmplated Himiself in His own world. And this self-contemplation was man’s life. Not, that He may, in all His changeful forms, Himiself be ever guessing ” why He is “!Does God exist.

God clothes Himself with forms So to enjoy forever His sweet being And all His beauty in the realm of light; Among the dying, yet untouched by death, Still with the new-born, yet Himself unborn; The great eternity in the great heart, He sees His foretime imaged awfully In the dead bones of giants down below, Swept away long ago by mighty floods; He sees His future shining yonder high Up in the fixed and starry firmament. In every being to do well to each, There His own Godlike nature recognizing, Greatly and purely as a God to live, That is for all and each of human kind Religion-godly life and contemplation And godly vision and life is blessedness, For blessedness is seeing and acting God. I58

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TO-D AY, EsC. TO-DAY: THE KEY-STONE OF THE WORLD. T quicken or retard his rate of sleep No one has power, for all things have their time; And neither can one hour make good a night, Nor can you crowd a day into an hour; To sleep beforehand, lay in a good store Of sleep, is what no one can do. So none Can live ahead. or live with greater speed. Each apparition of yon morning sun Is but a throbbing of the mighty pulse Of the world’s body, yea the sun itself Is only a blood-globule in its veins.

And if thy soul lives not in place and time, Yet is thy body introduced by life Into a constant series; as a wave, Curled by the wind, drives on the wave before, Driven on in turn by that which follows it; Just like the nodule on the stalk of grain Which by the others keeps itself erect, So grew thy forefathers, so growest thou, So will thy children, children’s children grow. And all of you make up a human stalk, Which always was in seed, always bore grain, And so in each successive summer lived. 159

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THE WORLD-PZIEST. But the beginning of our human stalk, And likewise of thy human body too, WVas something out of all the range of time. After a long, immense eternity, Before a long, immense eternity, Sown in the midst, as if’twere sown in air Like a thin phantom floating in the skies.

But thou shalt in past generations see The spirit’s endless life made palpable, And in those yet to be the eternal being, And in those yet to come the eternal coming, The fair procession out of being’s depths Into this sunny day, this human life And in the vast, unending starry heaven Shalt thou with joy immeasurable learn To recognize the great eternal home, (Forever open both to thee and all) For ever-new and ever-nobler life; WVith Godlike joy shalt see thy temple there! WVhen a good mother fitting out her son Follows him with her blessing, when a father WVeds his good daughter with glad willingness, That is the eternal love of this vast whole, For this eternal love itself could not Bring forth one day the thousandth generation, \Tithout this.eneration on the stage! Nor could it bless a single one of them Did it not pour out its full horn of blessings Into this single generation’s lap. I6o

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TO-DA Y, ETC. Already, of old time has it ordained This generation, through mysterious nights Cherished and reared, and through mysterious days Led it along up to the present hour. Thus is the love of mothers, then, the old Primal, eternal love of this vast whole, WVith which it swells well nigh to suffocation: The gladness and the laughter of a child, The singing of a lark among the clouds, That is itself a fruit of all the stars, Their blessedest product and best influence! i6i K

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE WONDER-WORKERS. AND were there, could there really be one Who even made an ox out of an ass, Who could so much as change figs into thistles, Or glue a torn-up frog to life again, And did not die himself, even when a shell Had struck and shattered all his entrails outAnd had he both the will and power to teach All men all these and even greater acts, Till God’s fair world should be a bedlam now For every crazy man and every foolThen should I hold him -well ” greater than God? … A mightier than the Almighty One.?” Thinkest thou so perchance? nay, weaiker, worse Than the first plain and simple pious man, Whose faith firm as a rock on nature rests, Who lives by her divine, eternal laws, Who knows that sun and sunrise, flying clocuds, The growth of grass upon the meadow lands, And bleat of lambs, and herdsman’s mellow song, And people’s little children plucking flowers In the bright sun beneath the clear blue heaven That these are greatest of all miracles, And as the being of God unsearchable. I62

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THE WONDER-WORKERS. He only, who beholds the universe, With all its stars, the sun that moves through heaven In majesty, the earth spread at his feet, On these and on all men, and his own heart, Looks, as a child from out his cradle looks Regards them as mere things of every day As commonplace and customary things, Because he needs must be accustomed to them, And live in them, to be content with life Takes every fool’s-trick for a miracle, (Not for mere nonsense and absurdity,) Because God-fearing wonder stirs in him Only, instead of wondering at God’s law, He stares with wonder at wildfancy’s dreams! Far better is it in the universe Never and nowhere to see any thing Except with the mind’s eye by custom sealed And blinded, holding every thing to be The grossest and most bald of commonplace -The potter nothing round him but a great Convenient potter’s field; the countryman Nothing around him but a mighty farmThan one’s owin nonsense in a wizard’s glass. For man is called to this - for this one thing Elas he been gifted with the hilghest spirit, That he might hold with fair and holy nature Such genuite, confidenlial intercourse As with his neighbor’s dau,lghter a man holds, When he has taken her for his darling wife; And look on this great body of the world, I63

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. As the great body his own soul inhabits. For God will not do witchcraft, He will lihze, Freely and simply as a cradled child Uses his little eyes and hands and feet! The Germans swept away the witches first; Then swept away their cruel sweeping act. Through God ye banish wonder-mongering faith And by the use ofpower comes joy in power.

One, only, knows no miracle: God! and the mind of God: And every man who has the mind of God, Who feels himself to be the spirit of God, Who looks upon the beauteous universe With all its glory, as his property And his possession, as the snail her house, And as the little throstling does his nest, And as the brown bee does her honey-tree. How shall a hair on thy head be to thee A miracle! an eye beneath thzy brow! How shall the mother call her new-born child A miracle, - herself a greater one? Can spirit be a miracle to spirit? How canst thou talk of wonders, when thou art Thyself a miracle, the greatest, thou Tize wonder-seer” thyself, the wonderful Hast thou, then, entered into thine own being, Hast thou into a single grain of sand Entered in silent thought, thou hast thereby Entered into the vast ethereal seas With all their constellations; all the stars I64

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THE WONDER-WOIKERS. Are not miore wondrous than one little grain Of sand beneath thy feet; the multitude Makes not the wonder greater, rather less 7ust as the value of the greatest pearl, Or the crown-diamond, lessens in thine eyes If mountains of them lie in every street, And all the children, making playthings of them, Scatter and squander them about, as men Squander and fling away this wondrous life Their only, their irrevocable one,! The oftener the familiar sun returns, The longer yon blue heaven is flushed with light And every night the stars shine through the dusk The stars grow more and more every-day things, And by such long familiarity Even life becomes a common thing, and deathUncommon only, when in some strange shape. Whate’er is strange about them startles us, But death and life themselves wake thought no more. But labor does away all miracles, Work, at the blissful tasks of the old God: The task of washing the dear new-born child, Of dressing him in his first little clothes, Of putting on his first sweet little capyoy makes all wonders soon to be forgot; His mother with good right forgets them all, His father does, and every genuine man. To make the new hedge round his meadow-land, To cut the hay and drive the wagons in, Quite other, truer human work is that, IO,3

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Than to stand wondering there at all the flowers That so mysteriously came, lived, died. Thus is man’s labor, every smallest task, A work of holy, healing blessedness For him! and with the human heart man lives M\ore blissful than with stiff stupidity And staring wonder in a hollow mind, Blindly believing all things but itself, And from the master of a thousand powers Degraded to be slave of its own fears. Wouldst know the greatest wonder-worker’s name? ‘Tis Labor, the deliverer of man From memory’s dream of dead and buried things, From fancy’s idle dream of things unborn, From frightful emblems of decay and death; And even if all should die and melt away Beneath the grasp of man and disappear Like the cold snowball in the child’s warm handLabor remains forever fixed and calm, Above the wreck of every fleeting work, Even as the eye rests on the fleeing clouds; And even the children find the soft snow serve For balls, for the glad fling, the merry game! Labor alone makes man a genuine man, It makes the world yield lasting joy to him, Though all he did were naught but nothingness. But man by labor makes himself a life Secure and free and goodly, of his own, And every tree he planted once in hope, i66

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THE WONDER-WORKERS. To him and to his children still bears fruit. Through busy, thoughtful and clear-purposed toil A man, whoe’er he be, grows clear in heart, And every day of the vain, hollow world, Through labor, has for each its worthy end. At morn, it gives to each one his desire, At evening hands to each one his reward! Long have I wandered round with true, sharp eye Among strange peoples over all the earth, And none but the vain idlers everywhere And the proud idle women have I seen, Distrait and wretched; for extorted gold They bought themselves sorely repented joys; Lived without pleasure in an empty world, And dying with a yawn, were laid away Into an empty world - the grave: - the long ennui! i67

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. LIFE-A BATTLE. CLOSE by the side of thzosefew moral sayings Which the old sages of the ancient time Have left us, deeming they bestowed on us Thereby the world and all its blessedness Beside and all around those well-meant words There still remain abysses full of night And gloom, and mountains full of trouble too; There’s the old human heart still full of woe, Here’s the new road of life, full of new thorns! God is to-day the same old riddle still, The starry night is still the same old night; Death is to-day the same old terror still, The grave is still to-day the dismal hole. The deep abyss is not yet filled up, though So many thousands hourly fall therein! We have not yet strode forth from man’s estate, Man is this day and hour thefirst isans still, And will remain the first to the last man, Saved by no God and never to be saved From chasing after ever-growing truth - Which like the rainbow still eludes his grasp; From striving for the growing sweets of freedom - For still he drags behind him his old chains; i68

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LIFE-A BA TTLE. From ever deeper, clearer, broader knowledge, - For ever deeper grows the human mind; From adding beauty to his earthly home, - For more and more well being means to man; And never from his mortal body saved - Which still remains exposed to every fate. From earthly trouble man is never free; The spirit, from the stuff in which it dwells In which it is at home, as is the soul In the body, and the body in the soul. And the mere task of conquering as he should All the crude elements, that is the gist Of man’s whole fight life long, e,en to the grave. Nay, only by it is he kept so great, So free, so noble; it belongs to him, Makes up his very life,.and gives him work In daily little victories, -victory, never, Long as he lives; and man will weep so long As he has eyes; and he will mourn so long As his heart beats; and feel anxiety I.ong as he loves; and man will love so long As God shall fill and animate his frame. Ye pious and ye proud ones, all of you, Begrudge not God, I pray you, His hard life! Hard for you only, if you had to bear With your own strength the immeasurable work. 8 I69

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.THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE DEAF AND DUMB MOTHER. E who has never thought, ay never could H Think of his life, has yet enjoyed his life With better, haply more complete a sense. Thoughts draw us off from their materials, Thoughts are a special and particular work Other than life is, and the sense of it, The inner sense that wholly fills the heart. So may the lark then well and sweetly live! The bee may live in gladness and in joy, The lily too, the modest violet! Tlzozights do not constitute morality, They are not love: thoughts do not constitute Honor or happiness; nor can they make Man blest; nor needs he them to be divine. Thoughts, to the artist of this earth, the rich Poet, whose name is man, and who is man, Are the material for his humzan work; As, to the lark, tones are, for utterance, As, to the bee, his hum, for rallying-cry And note of recognition on the mead! The young bee when it hies for the first time Forth from the hive out through the swarming-hole, As if omnniscient, flies with lightning-speed 170

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THE DEAF AVD DUTIB MOTHER. I7I Straight off to the red clover; not the rose, Which has in store for her no nourishment! She builds her cell as never man could do, With all his cunning! and each cell is glued Fast to the middle of its counter-cells. And if the bee has not science and art And wisdom, she herself is wisdom, then, The highest, and the very truest art; And if she does know nothing, she herself Is, in her mind, all-knowing. in so far As the well-doing of her work requires; And all, who never had nor could have had A teacher, are both teacher to themselves And lesson; without word and without thought Grasfing and zisisng their own faculties A nd living in their own accustomed life.The fair young human mother, deaf and dumb, And poor as any pigeon, feels nathless Deep joy and rapture by her husband’s side; A blissful rapture in the new-born child, Which even now with pride the kindly nurse Lays in her arms, which blessing silently, And almost weeping, tenderly she feels: How sweet the little guest ten minutzzes old.. The little friend, the darling son from heaven, Upon her breast drinks eagerly the milk, As if he came from a long pilgrimage! She feels the mother’s natural agony, When in the night her child has passed away.. When in the morning’s beam she sees it dead!

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. When now in the green earth they bury it! And through her tears now is she forced to stnile, When with such sweet, imploring sympathy Her older little boy clings to her breast, Looks in her eyes with such calm confidence, That she can almost read it on his lips, When now he says: “Ahl, mother, do not weep… No, dearest mother; no, I will not die!” And seals his naive assurance with a kiss. - The spirit is not blind, nor deaf and dumb! Not half, no, wholly does it understand Itself and life! for into every hfe It brings with it in full what life contains, And what the sun could not have given it, Nor earth, the grave nor death, can ever give For even its destiny, its blessedness, Its sorrow and its joy it brings with it For all is to the spirit only what The spirit feels withal-and nothing more. Thus is the spirit perfect in all points, To him life is but ofpiortunity Tofeel himself, and is enough for that - And if his life were richer still in griefs, In joys still poorer - he is rich indeed; Needs must it be a transit, -nay, a flight. So only is it to the eternal spirit, The all-conscious one, - the genuine stuff of life! And so is God’s eternal life, and thus He lives forever in His universe. 172

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HOPE. HOPE. H OPE is no child of heaven by any means; Hope is unknown to its inhabitants; The blessed wish for naught and hope for naught, Nor yet expect they aught; for evermore Content and tranquil, every want supplied.

So say mankind because they wish it so, And what man wishes, he believes; all else He disbelieves; his faith means first his wish. He asks not after truth, that he rejects. To his own terrible hurt, he cannot see, He cannot hear, full of his misery Which stupefies his heart and makes him dream.

Fear wedded Sorrow once upon a time; Then in the ruddy dawn she had this dream: That what she suffered would be all transformed To joy and bliss!

She even lost in sleep Her paleness, and has long since worn a smile.

Whereon she bore him “Dream,” and every day Bore him the self-same offspring, which she reared, And gave to every one the name of” Hope.” To every one who suffers, every one Whose heart the shadow of calamity Congeals with fear, she in compassion sends I73

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THE WORLI)-PLIEST. One of her daughters for companionship, Who transforms fear for him to a light dream, Herself only a dream of pallid Fear. He dreams the bliss he pines for, which he needs, Which wishes’ wings bring ever nearer to him. So, like the rainbow, Hope appears to stand In different spots and over different flowers, To different eyes, and seems to every one Of different hues, like the chameleon; To every troubled eye she shows more brilght, All heaven around her grows more radiant; To each afflicted man she waxes more And more enchanting, with his deepening woe, That he may calmlier bear it, and endure And struggle toward the day of new-born bliss With wondrous, though delusive energy. Man feeds and nourishes, himself, his hope With his own heart’s-blood, with sore pangs of soul, While it still hovers round him, while hlie still Needs it to guide him to his happiness. But when the clouds no more obscure his heaven, She grows smore pale; as he more tranquilly Sleeps through the night, she softly stealsfijoom himn To lay herself for once down at his feet And rest in sleep from all her wearying arts. The sick man named his sweet delicious hope, Health! But when healli herself now came to him, Lo!

he no longer knows his hope again She has gone from him like a phantom-light, Wasting away like the disease itself! 174

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HOPE. The poor man named his dear delicious hope, “Bread! Labor!” But when labor came, and bread, He knows his hope no longer now, that, too, Has vanished from him as his poverty. Every access of fortune ends its hope, Scares it away; as the enfolded bride Her bridegroom’s empty longing, who henceforth Clasps tree and stake, belike, instead of her. Every misfortune conjures to it its hope Just as the sun does shadows round its path. With every piece of fortune dies a hope, With heavenly-rich o’erfulness compensated, By no one ever missed henceforth in dream! And happy will the whole of human kind Be made at last one day when not a hope Early or late comes to a bed again, Hovers alluring o’er a wanderer’s path, Or sits again as scarecrow on a grave; When toil, intelligence, content and love, Shall wed the glad soul to the universe. I75

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. MEMORY. AN is each morning new; day after day, Early is he new-born of the whole world (No more his mother’s child alone) in soul And body. And because he has this power Of constant renovation, and his soul WVas never destined to be petrified In any single narrow feeling’s mould, In any single narrow groove of thought, Therefore each feeling with the moment born Dies with the moment, and so on forever, A,411 his life-long, to his infinite gain, That so he may become what man on earth WVas meant to be: a firover of all things And self-experienced in the whole rich world. Memory is but a dream of having known The immediate taste of an enjoyment once, Only reminding man that he once lived, That the time was when earth was bright to him. For if the memory of a strawberry He had once eaten, satisfied a child, Then he no longer need eat strawberries, Only remember: how they tasted once! And if the memory of bread sufficed 176

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MEMORY. The poor, then would all poor men have their fill, The everlasting, still satiety Would spoil all viands for the rich man’s taste, Would spoil the zest of every dear delight Of each new day with each new gift it brought, A flying pang, of some new sorrow born Within our breast, which we in childhood felt, Now spell-bound to us and immortalized, Would turn to gall all after-joys of life And petrify in the eye the bitter tears. One transient feeling of a beautiful Andcl stirring moment, made eternal in us, Would snatch from us the rich o’erflowing horn Of plenty, brought us by the coming years. But joy and grief are only meant to feed The heart with noble good against their days. If all the fragrances of all the flowers Still lingered with us… and if all the bells Mingled their sounds within us, what a jargon Would deafen us to our own spirit’s voice! The ancient spirit of the world who dwells Within us, when we come into this world Brings with him naught from his eternal life, That with a clean and open heart he may Receive a human life beneath the sun. The thousand sorrows and the thousand joys Which he has surely, surely, once enjoyed Are now with him no feeling, not a dream! And if life’s perpetuity is precious I77 8* L

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THE WORLD-PFRIEST. In those most precious and beloved heavens, Still he takes nothing with him from this earth, Of all its joys and sorrows, in his heart (No more than in the coffin) save his own Pure primal soul, as a chaste flame of love, With the capacity of endless bliss. Thus is life worthy of the Godlike spirit, Worth in itself man’s best fidelity, Meeting the spirit’s wants in all its worlds! Each meeting here on earth is a reunion, Each new acquaintance is a recognition For long the ancient soul has known it all. Who loses not himself, gains every thing. I78 It

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VIOLE 7’S-BREA TH, ETC. VIOLET’S-BREATH AND HEAVEN’S SPIRIT. W HEN thou explor’st the heart, the deep well-spring Of life, of thoughts and feelings, how much more Art thou amazed and awe-struck at its wealth Of goodness, love, truth and fidelity, Than men are at yon holy heaven above, Full of great, busy, living starry fires! Thou didst no more than show a boy, who sought A doctor for his poor sick father’s life, A wrong way through the woods, where thou hast learned A shorter, better-how that grieves thee now! Thou only wouldst not help a beetle up, That lay beside the road upon his back Struggling with all his might to right himself, So much as just to bend one blade of grass Towards his feet -how that repents thee now! The ploughman too, who, with his children, ploughed, Last moon, thy field for thee, - from him thou still His well-earned daily wages keepest back; Who now in modest silence passes by, Greets not, nor even so much as looks at thee, That he may not remind thee of thy debt And of his need - oh how it shames thee now! I79

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Am I then nobler than the lofty heavens? I better than the fairest star of night? And in my soul, because I am a man, A new divine emotion now first lives? Not rather, has just sprung up like a flower Out of its seed? Not rather, has just risen As from a mouldering body!… But was I Always of old a man then? Nay, is not Thie formz of man old as the earth itself? And as I feel to-day, have not long since Whole blessed generations also felt? Is it not then of immemorial age, Ay, even eternal, that which comes to me The new-born man, as a new thing to-day?

And is not that a common property Which in thy heart thou holdest for thine own: Goodness, love, truth, andfair fidelity! Then wonder at thyself, no more, 0 man! But wonder at that mighty universe Wherein love, goodness, truth, fidelity Are but the conmmnon heart’s blood, commonz dew.

And so the violet brings not up with it From earth’s black mould its fragrant violet’s-breath Nor yet its beauteous tint of violet blue - It comes a white bud to the sunny realm, Which paints its little chalice violet-blue And fills it full with violet perfume And fills the rose for us with rose-perfume, I80

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VIOLET’S-BREA TH, ETC. And fills man’s bosom with the soul of heaven, Wherein love, goodness, truth, fidelity, Sleep silently, to wake in thee as child, And silently sleep with thee in the grave, Free, and at large again for evermore, As heavenly spirit of the universe, The violets perfume when its violet’s dead. Revere thou then, 0 man, that heavenly spirit, The all-pervading, universal soul, Old as the stars, and new as newest flowers,* Within thee! honor, follow Him who fills Thy soul, as goodness, love, fidelity So that to every creature thou art good! So that thou lov,est wzfe and children Azore Than thou canst love all on thze earth beside / That thou fulfill’st the promise of thy hand, And thy great debt to all, fidelity! For know: thou art thyself the heavenly spirit. And what thou hast that is thy property, MIore than thy hand thine own, and more thine own Than are thine eyes, than is thy human head. Yet mark no less: the gracious heavenly spirit Belongs to all and gives itself to all, And in its love itself inhabits all. * Sterzenalt and blumenneu (star-old and flower-new) are the bold and beautiful words. I8I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE HIGHEST SPIRIT. BE not impetuous, vehement, over-loud Where there is no necessity; it spoils The tone and whole complexion of the house, Spoils for its inmates all their tranquil mood, Stirs up too violent an answer, spoils The very ring and color of tze land. What dost thou call necessity? - the cry For swift and vigorous help, when suddenly Harm and disaster threaten any one, When a good thing, if it is done, must be done Quickly, and when delay is danger, letting A spark grow up into a mighty fire. Spare, otherwise, thy treasure of heart’s-strength Which, like thy days, was measured out to thee For the long works and uses of thy life; Spare even thy breast the needless draught of breath, The arm its muscular strength, the eyes their sight, When thou wouldst only spend thy force for naught. But keep thy energies well gathered up, As thy life’s treasure, wasted by no rust, But ever ready in a wakeful soul For service: to be willingly brought out, Yea, wholly given up, for him who needs i82

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THE HIGHEST SPIRIT. The good of it, that he may do thee good. So, sweetly, to divine maturity Grows day by day the maiden’s tender form: Her modest virtue spares her gracious limbs, Refrains from giving away a hair, a hand, A word out of the heart, or even a look, Till the right time comes, and the right loved man That she may be to him the perfect wife Who shall, in blessing him, herself be blest! My child, the greatest strezgth is gentleness; It rules the child with one kind, faithful word, Rules man and wife, people and neighborhood, It even controls the beggar’s vicious dogs.

But the weak heart is not the gentle spirit, The strong, full heart alone possesses spirit Even to heroism and martyrdom, Like the still sword that tarries in its sheath. Scream not, then, like the bell that cries out “Fire! When only fire-flies’ sparks are trailing by, But when the alarm-bell calls to earnest work Fly as the storm flies roaring to the fire. I83

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fTHE WORLD-PRIEST. LET NONE OFFEND THEE! THOU wilt not give offence, I can believe; And so far, therefore, rests no blame on thee But circumspectly stand upon thy guard Never to take offence from other men! Then only art thou wholly free from blame; Then art thou wise and good; art a just man, Well-poised, secure from harm; thy life a joy To others and thyself. Live like the sun, Then shalt thou no more take offence than he. For lo! hlow mzaiiy daily take offence! The richest, mightiest!-know then in thy heart Thereby: what they must be and how they live! Then shun, as thou wouldst death: taking offence! So shalt thou flee life’s worst, most poisonous plagueAnd surely hasten to the heavenly arms! To life majestic as the sun’s on high! Meanwhile the very murdered man himself Bears often more than half his murderer’s guilt; Nay, who provokes the sin, has all the guilt. This I say softly. But thou, take’t to heart, And circumspectly stand upon thy guard Never to take offence from other men! Thou wilt not give offence, I can believe. I 84

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TO THE MEEK MAN.I TO THE MEEK MAN. HOU dost not well to be content with all Thy neighbor does, who lives with thee and needs thee!His tongue, by silence, grows degenerate! His very patience breeds impatientness! Then overlook them with a generous eye, Smile on them in a good and faithful heart, Yet tell them firmly and without reserve Thy honest mind and their vainglorying. ‘Twill make them wiser, even better men, Make them more reverent for the man in thee; Enhance thy worth with them; for they would tame The very speech and action of the king; But whoso says the truth and does the right Secures respect and freedom with his kind: To do his own work, live out his own life, Not to say, wear his hair as pleases him!

Walk his own gait, quick step or old man’s pace; For what his heart does, he does royally. Thou dost not well to be content with all Thy neighbor does, who lives with thee and needs thee, A kindly sPirit rules by rzght divine. i85

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE MIGHT OF LOVE. SAY not: The ancients left behind such deep Unfathomable words, that all the wise, With all their wisdom, are but shamed thereby; For should a simpleton pronounce to-day The mere word “magnet,” or a child say “g oose,” There would be prophets whom the mystery: “What is a goose?” would likewise put to shamp, And to make one-that would defy them all: A work that eats, flies, waddles, swims, lays eggs, And has these countless years renewed its youth! Then comes the child,- light-hearted, cheerful faith, Laughs at the fooleries of all the wise, And briskly clears all mysteries at a bound, Exalts, exaggerates himself, makes light Of hardest things, and, unexplored, unproved, He lets things pass, that he may pass-may be; For he himself would not be, were they not! He gives the wonders, all, convenient names, And hangs them up as pictures on his wall, To pay them, following custom, on set days A loud respect, then hang them up again. Thus has faith painted over for itself The world, and cunningly sealed up its eyes. i86

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THE MlIGHT OF LOVE. But thou with vision cleansed and purified, With clearest understanding and best knowledge, Shalt look on all the wonders in all things. God’s being is eternal mystery; .Faithoed, He could not be the Infinite! Holy astonishiment alone can bring Thee near to Him, and lowly reverence Shall bring Him near to thee, and make Him thine; In ecstasy descending on thy soul, He shall inspire and lift thee to Himself So too, wouldst thou draw near to beauty, thou Canst find no other way than that of love! Love lifts thee up to beauty on her wings, Love draws her down to thee-down to thy heart! Through love art thou made like to her in worth! And if there are divine and beauteous wonders, The greater wonder still a man can do: Through love and reverence all highest things To win, and to possess them as his heart. Behold, such power alone sufficiently Attests the true divinity of man! And every child attests it day by day! Reverence is only a live consciousness Of all the glory that lies round about And weighs on us, because we are and feel Ourselves so glorious; and the love that yearns Within us, is the power: to make it ours. I87

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE WORM AND THE SUN. O H not from magnanimity, but oh, From wisdom and from prudence shalt thou give All hate, contempt and malice to the winds! So shall thy soul be with itself at peace. Tl,is proves thee not magnanimous forsooth Not to feel hatred: for the love that wars Against all hatred, is no virtue: nay ‘Tis the soul’s daily food and common bread! Contempt, however, the sincere contempt Felt for the world by a high-minded soul.. That seems sublime, the sole deliverance From this our slavishly inherited, Inevitable existence! It alone Has power to lend a show of liberty And Godlike elevation to the soul, Which, like a king deposed and exiled, feels Itself in silent equanimity, And conscious of its own intrinsic worth, Smiles the more tenderly and tranquilly, The more the insignificant populace Scorns and despises it; the more the world Sinks in the scale of worthlessness, the more The spirit that contemns it, feels itself Exalted and sufficient for itself: Itself a world and kingdom in itself! i88

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THE WORM AND THE SUN. But when contempt comes in, respect goes out, And pity slips into the place of love. Whence could come pity, didst thou not believe All beings suffered in the world like thee? But how could suffering touch thee, didst thou not Love thine own self and others as thyself, Whom by the self-same spirit thou seest inspired? But thou shalt love thyself too as thyself. So love thy fellow-men then as a mother Loves her sick child, already doomed to death, Resigned by her-and yet loved on - nay, never So truly loved and cherished until now! For: death, disgrace and wrong excepted, all, Al4 things can Love love truly to the end, Tr-ue to itself not the beloved alone. This is the mother’s holy, heavenly task, To nurse the child, to lay his little toys Upon his bed, to let his tiny arms Twine round her, to caress and comfort him, At last to let him die upon her breast, Then close his little eyelids, and once more To bathe his limbs, and then more carefully Than if he were still living, comb his hair, His golden hair, and never once upbraid The little wildling,- then to dress the still, Submissive child in his best Sunday clothes, And lay him in his coffin sweetly wreathed, And watch by him securely sleeping there, As faithfully as once by his sick-bed! What else has Love to do with fleeting things, Decay and death, the living and the dead, I89

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THE WORLD-P~IEST. But just to love! if she can only love, Then no one dies to her, then none is dead; Love lives and Love keeps its own fire alive.

And therefore call not love a foolish thing, As if it soiled itself with death and graves Love scents nzot the danhk mould of noisome g,raves; Thegrave is scented by the rosy hands Of Love, and touched by her the dead all shiize Transfigured! Be a spirit then, the spirit Of Love, and hate thou nothing, hate thou none. For were the very universe itself Worthy of hatred, and its spirit too, Which, coffined in the grave-mould, still lives on, And still must live to all eternity - It feels itself withal, it feels its shame, And glorious, great and noble must it be! So, too, be thou for hatred all too great; Hate is unprofitable; it embitters The heart-for rotten nuts; for every thing Deserving hate is many thousand times Inferior to thee; as the dead worm Is to the lofty sun. And yet he shines On the poor worm and with a pious touch Transforms it to the holy dust of earth. Oh not from magnanimity, but oh From wisdom and from prudence give thou then All hate, contempt and malice to the winds! Then shall thy soul have peace within itself! I9o

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THE WEA LTH OF WISDOM. THE WEALTH OF WISDOM. ITH her own hand the mother wove at night A garland for her child, while yet he slept, Which he to-morrow is to bring to her.. And she, what joy she has in braiding it!

How will the child rejoice too in his gift! The joy is certain, and as beautiful As to bring thanks to God and offer Him A grateful tribute of the gzfts He gave, Or to send up a prayer upon the wings Of His own breath into the pure blue heavens The joy is certain and so beautiful! And piety is like a childish play Between a good child and the child’s good mother.

The clear perception of this magic work May well restrain thy eye, heart, hand and knee; Yet well thou markest and thou feel’st it well: That knowledge too is a no less divine And holy beam, and is as true, as fair, As when a mother takes, at the child’s hands, The offering of the wreath she wove for him! Who said: that wisdom was a hollow, cold, Vain thing!

Nay, wisdom is so full and glowing! The soul is rich as the heart never was - Man is all that he has, bound up in one. i9I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE INNER WANT. L IFE’S genuine goods prove thou not by the old, The worn-out, dead-alive, nor dying men. What one enjoyed not, in his youthful days, Of youthful bliss, he never will enjoy. A hatful of red cherries gives the boy A sight of heaven; and a hatful of diamonds A dying man esteems not worth a smile. The inner want supplied alone insures Man’s happiness; and this his inward need Is always changing, in that he himself Is never for two moments like himself. Of all good things man tastes on earth, theftrst * Is the most precious; to the little child, Lo, even the first pear is a new world! So the first stream that glides before his eyes To him is just as great a miracle As if the tender ether from the height Of the blue heavens were flowing here on earth And bathing him in all the bliss of heaven. The repetition of enjoyment is In part a reminiscence, not a first * Per cowtdra, Shakespeare: ” Like the /st taste of sweets, is sweetest last.” -T. I92

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THE INNVER WANT. Fresh and exuberant joy. Things oft enjoyed, And though it were the day or the full moon, Grow stale through custom and breed weariness. To the best things that ever fell to him, The experienced man will ever cling at last, The man who growing older, grows more wise. The old man in the end finds each last thing, The thing he last enjoyed, a saddening thought… As: the last cluster which the sick man plucked And laid before him, more to look at it, And taste yet one more grape from off the bunch, Than to find joy in it; for no more joy Is the last autumn…

the last day-to him! M I93 9

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. CHILDREN’S JOY. AKE beautiful to children their young days! Despise not nor neglect the smallest joy! Thou mak’st them for the time as little gods, Nay, for their lifetime thou implantest in them A gladsome mood, an ever cheerful heart. The pleasures of their youth will pass away, The time will come when of these pleasant days They will know nothing more; of the ripe nuts They knock down from the tree; the leaping-pole. No more they know the smile their mother wore To see them bring the baskets full of grapes Yet has all joy struck down into the soul, They always hope for kindness from the world! That which was once so fair may yet be dark! Yet a glad spirit shall bear bitter things One day with its first strength, nay even feel The first bright sunbeam kindle gratitude. But a sad, weary, dismal childhood hour Makes serious, sombre faces, makes a dark And cloudy eye. Thy heavy-laden child, That once so pined for want of doll and dress, That was begrudged even its dance in spring.. I94

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CHILDREN’S 70 Y. The poor great grown-up child, he hardly smiles, In turn, upon his child who smiles on him! Oh childhoods joys yield highest interest; Man needs them to meet life with cheerfulness; The spirit of the universe himself Needs them, that he may feel within himself A heavenly joy amidst his beauteous heaven. I95

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE THREE TREASURES OF LIFE. N holy Christmas Eve, long after dark, Bending beneath a heavy load of wood, From out the silent forest a poor man Trudged homeward to his hut. Keenly the stars Sparkled o’erhead; the river smoked with cold; And pale and ghostly gleamed the silvery snow. Yet in his hamlet seeing now a light, He leaned against a tree by the wood’s edge, And cold and weary soon had sunk to sleep. Then a glad dream came o’er him. His young wife At home had found a treasure.

Eager now To help her lift it, he attempts to rise, But, weighed down by his load, sinks back again Against his tree, wakes up ashamed, and starting Thinks of his seven little ones at home. Within his little cottage all is dark. His load laid down, he steps into the room. “Husband, is’t thou?” his wife’s familiar voice Calls from the bed. “Yes, it is I: where are the little ornes?” “Around me,- all asleep.” i96

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THE THREE TREASURES OF LIFE. I97 “But thou-I dreamed - Hast found a treasure.” “I -a treasure?” “No? Then we are just as well off as before.”

Just then he heard a new-born infant’s cry, And scarcely would he have been able now Even if his poor light had not given out For tears, to see the little guest from heaven. “Ah!” says the mother; “yes, I see now, I Have found the treasure!… such a treasure, too, As we poor people, who have nothing better, Have need of, - yes, and such as we well earn! And such as God gives His beloved ones! We must be dear to Him, full well I feel! Now we have more anxiety, more toil; But what of that? more love, too; ah, full measure! Two little boys are lying by my side; Only feel here!… the little infant heads…. Here! touch them softly!-One-and here the other.. And see! the little brothers and sisters there, Worn out already with the very joy, Have gone to sleep around them; but my heart Is wide awake: and, oh, it makes my eyes Sparkle to see thee, how thou weep’st for joy! I thank thee, God! for Labor, Care, and Love!” And in the starlight there he prays aloud, His hand laid softly on each infant’s head: “I thank thee, God! for Labor, Care, and Love!”

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. FOLLOW THE LORD UPON HIS WAYS.* HEAR’ST thou, 0 just man, good and noble things Of human kind, and of its life on earth, Which sorely tried it, and yet gave withal Much opportunity for worthy deeds; And thou, at the recital, in thy soul, Hast full assurance that thou wouldst thyself Have in like case, done every thing just so Then in thy bosom dwells the same good Sfirit That wrought those works thou seest on every side, Only with other hands, not yet with thine. And wilt thou then be quite amazed at this, As at a thing unheard of-never known? Thou wilt not be amazed, nor even surprised, Not even give thanks or praise, not, surely, doubt. Thou wilt not doubt the Spirit of the Good To be the same in all and in thyself, When conscious to thyself of one good work, Which once thou diddest all unconsciously, Without a thought of self or of thy life. That memory is enough for all good works For thousand deaths, if only thou wert One Endowed with thousand lives for such an end! Who doubts a moment that the worst of imen Would gladly stay an utter stranger’s tears By raising his dear dead one from the grave? * “Begleite du den Hermn auf Seinen Wegen; ” the beginning of a fanfiiiar German hymn. -T.

x98

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FOLLOW THE LORD UPON HIS WAYS. I99 Who doubts that the most miserly of men Would gladly, for the hungry beggar-children, Change all the stones around his house to bread? But unless other men have faith in him, The best man cannot do a miracle. Still, if thou didst no single miracle TlIy pious nzinid transcends all miracles - The poor with water keeps his marriage feast, The beggar, without stones, has bread to eat, And God lets never a dead man die twice; A good man all the time does miracles: God did them -and to man’s heart’tis as if He himself did them also, did them with Him!

How gladly makest thou the sun to shine.. The flowers to bloom and all the birds to sing… The ears to ripen, and the rain to plash0 doubt not: a good man is rich as God, And feels as rapturously blest as He, For his soul does as glad a work as His! Each man can, in his soul, do, with them, all The good things, all the others ever do; Each man can, in his soul, behold with them The beauty that irradiates all around; And thus the spirit of the universe Is richer countless myriads of times By all the countless myriads of hearts, And gladder, than alone! The living hosts Are evermore God’s blest associates, His glorious reduplications all; And therefore lives He in the thousand beings, And therefore is He life and is the world.

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. QOUIET GREATNESS OF THE GOOD. HE sun were still the sun though prisoned close T In a great dungeon-vault of solid stone, Where not a ray could find a chink to pass How wide a circle feels his light and heat That only shows, but not creates, his power. The poison of the serpent, though concealed In a slight bag beneath his hollow tooth, Is poison not the less; the poor dead child That it has bitten, only shows its work. The musk, while still shut up within the bag.. The fragrant incense in the silver box Is even now the perfume, ere it fills A temple, and all streets, the city through; The fire does naught but set its spirit free. The camel, sleeping still in morning’s light, Is even now the tireless, willing beast, Ready to bear his burden through the whole Of the long day, whose gray dawn streaks the heavens. The flute’s sweet note is the same gracious tone Even in the dungeon of the prisoner. The air but wafts it airily away From herdsman’s lips, from mountain-crag to vale And so the good man is the good man still, 200 I

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QUIET GREA TAESS OF THE GOOD. 201 Though he had never yet opened his mouth, Nor raised his hand to do a single work. The shepherd watching faithfully his lambs, The mother loving heartily her charge, The father, who with vigor rules his house, The helmsman true and tranquil in the storm, ‘he man who, like a general, cool and wise, With nothing but a wooden king and queen, And wooden pawns for peasants,* wins his fight Upon a field no bigger than a dish These are the noble, great and good of men, Incarnate only in contracted space, With little influence near and visible, But still the spirit of the great itself. Give them a little knowledge quickly learned, They were the very heroes of the earth Only arrayed in somewhat greater forms, And furnished with far-reaching, Godlike arms, They would be even exalted, Godlike ones. Mark this! see clearly and believe it well, For thine own cheer, and faith in all men’s worth A heart which yields in goodness to no God, A soul fair as the soul of any One, As clear, as mild, as strong in love’s own might, A spirit that, God-conscious, conquers death, That dreads no man, but only its own wrong, Its own disgrace and its own slavery, Is equal to the very greatest powers Bauer in German means pawn, as well as (prinmarily) peasant. 9

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THE WOPRLD-PRIEST. That live on any one of all the stars A longer, a more prosperous life, perchance, But not a blesseder or more divine. WVith this conviction now look out once more, And see the toil-blest bees go flying by! And see the blest industrious spider spin, Yea, look upon the tranquil, restful flower, See the song-gladdened lark soar up to heaven, Filled with her joy as with the bliss of Gods Then look upon and weigh the prophets all, Weigh all the princes and the emperors, In this eternal balance, through all heavens Acknowledged-and behold thleir inzfuence Only throt,Iz others’ lives is visibly Greater than the good heart of one poor man, The pith of life, its worth in thee is like That of all men, it is the heart of all The beings of the universe, the heart Of the great spirit of the universe A,4fiearance does not truly make men great, But only visible; and many great Appearances are only soap-bubbles. Gold, hidden in the mine-shaft, still is-gold. 202

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TO WHOM THOU DOEST GOOD. 203 TO WHOM THOU DOEST GOOD. MAN, hast thou done kind service to thy friends; Hast thou through all the days and years she lived, Been true and tender to thy wife, so far As lay within thy power, made her life glad, In her last sickness nursed her faithfully, Put to her lips the last refreshing draught, Pressed-to her eyes, adorned her lifeless form Within the coffin, borne her to the grave With honor due, and planted o’er the mound Roses, to make a sweet and fitting restTo whom hast thou done this? Answer I pray: To whom hast thou done this? Thou know’st full well; None - none but God alone can be-a manA human soul, the wife, the noble mother, The loving, virtuous and beautiful! No prophet could, poor man, so much as be Even a kid, still less could be a child, Not to say all the human race entire! A man, a man - none can be that but God To none of all the prophets hast thou done Thy good,- no, but to God, to God alone! Not by the strength of any prophet, thou Hast done the Godlike work; no, it was God,

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TIHE WORLD-PRIEST. And He alone, who did it for Himself, Though by thy hand and from thy faithful soul Which knew and reverenced God within itself. And what of good thou doest to a child, A beggar, that thou doest to God Himself, That dost thou from the God Himself in thee. Do it with zeal, then! with meek piety! To set one’s sinzge self in place of God Were shocking! even in thought were blasphemy! Man, believe simply this: what does believe Through thee -nay more, what lives thee, that is God. 204 I

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THE GODDESS NEAlR AT HAND. 205 THE GODDESS NEAR AT HAND. SUCH darkness would not come upon thy house If thou hadst quenched the sun; - thou hast not then Done such an evil thing, when thou hast set The poor man’s house on fire above his head, As when thou sorely hast aggrieved thly wife! She is the gladness of thy soul, the peace And comfort of thy heart, the children’s joy, And, briefly, the good spirit of the house, For whom thou livest and canst live happily As for none else thou canst in the wide world! What the beloved one has sanctioned thee, To that the spirit of heaven has set its seal! That dost thou cheerfully through sorest pains.

She says “I am contented!” and thy lot Is no more hard. She says “I feel no pain; And thou, thou too art well. And if she bends Her head to thee, and honors thee, then all The excellent and honorable dames Of earth have justified thee, have approved For beauty, goodness, grace and love, themselves Have smiled on thee in a now livingform. Afflict thyself then, rather than thy wife - One’s own distress is never great nor long

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. And never can it stay at the sweet word: “Oh for my sake grieve not! it gives me pain… I weep ” such true and Godlike power,l”at heart Can gently exercise upon thee, which Thou lovest, and which loves thee heartily. Then let thy wife’s love be as dear to thee As holy as the holy Queen of heaven, As thine own goddess-and thy wife herself! 206

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HOME, THE SACRISTY OF HEA VEN. 207 HOME, THE SACRISTY OF HEAVEN. THE
earth, and day with all its stores and works, With all its treasures and its properties They too have life, like a vast body-they Are to the man another wife, as good As ever his own wife was! to the wife As good a husband as her own e’er was. The wife is to the man a nearer heaven, The earth brought near and in a narrower form, For his embrace, and to bear children to him, The little ones, which earth and heaven then rear. The earth is to the husband but the great Eternal wife: who brings forth all his works And rears and trains them up to demigods. The wife is to the husband his own body, The man to her is her own body too, Answering as egg to chicken, cell to bee; For daughters are descended from the man, And sons, likewise, descended from the woman, And both, when wedded, are one man of Heaven. The Home is not ” the little world” aloneIt is the mighty sun’s true mother-house, It is the Holy Heaven’s great sacristy; For without fruit the fig-tree has no use, And the great tree of Heaven is good - for naught.

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE TRUE LIFE. HE faithful sun brings each betimes his day; T The sun with every four and twenty hours Brings myriads of million days to men. Each one goes home at nightfall with his day: Each rises with his day at morn. The lamb, The tree, the flowers-have all received their day; The blooming poppy and the violet Have equally received their night and dew. The sun gives also, through the broad expanse, To many stars peopled with countless souls Innumerable days, to each its own! And the innumerable suns that shine In the immeasurable realmns of space Give to innumerable constellations, Swarming all over with inhabitants: The one great day of the whole universe, The one great night, the hour of blessedness. And all of them are giving this great day, And all of them are giving this great night, Forever - ceaselessly and endlessly. And is that nothing? Is it no great gift? And is it not the true kingdom of Heaven? 208

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THE Tt’UE LIFE. And is that nothing? all an idle lie? And is not that the true eternal ife Which our One Spirit of the universe Gives in such countless, boundless, endless forms Of beauty and of bliss ineffable? And can there be out of the living God Who fills all space and each remotest nook Completely with his truest, highest being, Can there outside of him be anywhere A private life? Beside his blessedness Poured out already, -
an o’erflowing sea,Another blessedness! a future bliss… One faithlessly withholden from this earth, Saved for the world against a future dayOf the great God that were the greatest sin; He would not be God, if He hoarded it Just as a miserly and senseless father Saves for his children his most precious gifts Against their death! and yet the world’s great spirit Whose life is all that was, is and will be… Has saved, has starved himiself out of his bliss At his own spirit’s, his own body’s cost, At his own life’s cost in the life of all? N 209

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE HALL OF SPIRITS. HAT seems to thee so odd - so laughable: T That thou shouldst be a spirit (a ghost) yet breathe, And body it and live, have head, hand, foot, And feel the solid earth beneath thy feet? Well, wilt thou be a shadow, then, which none Can touch, and through which every man can walk? So wilt thou be a dead man then, whom naught Can stir in his immovable repose, Who neither hears, nor sees, nor speaks, nor smiles? To be a shadow or a dead man, then, Is all too thin for thee, and yet thy life, As spirit, is disconcerted by the sun In whose refulgent daylight thou dost walk Visible to all the children?- Oh the sun Is half a farthing-candle to the dusk Of the great night in all the universe: Appearing here below in sunshine, thou Art only walking in the shades of t… A midnight apparition -hard on cock-crow! Thou only hast come up for a brief while After the lapse of an eternity Out of the shadowy kingdom of the dead, The holy grave of the old former world 210

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THE HALL OF SPIRITS. Thou tarriest here one turn of Uranus - To look about thee, just to weep here once, To love once, and to have men weep for theeThen disappear again for evermore From out this earthly scene, this ghostly hall, So full of juggling shapes and frightful masks, That to the very mother her own child, In his mysterious strange and fairy shape, Only by use grows a familiar friend, After a long, wild, wondering stare at him And proving shyly all his little limbs, As all young mothers secretly will do, And while thou tarriest here, does not thy glance Climb the far mountain summits? Soar by day Up to the sun? at evening to the moon? By night up to the stars? Dost thou not dive With ease into the old world’s earliest depths And its last distances? dost thou not pierce With wizard’s might the souls of other men, And fetter cunningly bliss-breathing shapes With silken chains of love to thee forever? And is then he no spirit by whom the world Was not created? Then there is no spirit. And thou hast come too late; then none has here, Not even the master, any more to do; And he may fold his hands, like the old dame Who has spun off her wheel long hours ago; Nay, but all spirits have a spirit’s work, (Thou too both hands full,) when they touch this earth, Both hands full, when they vanish from it. Thou, 2II

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Thou knowest what spirit’s work and labor is: CreatiUg Izje! free action, ever free - The spirit’s watchword! the old sacred rite Valid through all the spirit’s boundless realm, The ancient gladness and the ancient love, The Beautiful, that highest of all spells By which spirits rule the world and other spirits, Which calls all good that is but beautiful And thereby thou createst it to be T/ziize ooii, and thereby dost create thlyself! And wert thou not, thou wouldst be made, a spirit, By such existence, by such magic works, Such beauty shown during thy earthly stay, Such pangs of agonizing woe, such tears, Such yearning sorrow when thou vanishest, Before all eyes going down into the grave, And by the midnight torch-light of the sun Convoyed thou sail’st out into our great night. This with clear faith hold fast: thou art a spirit In human guise, with skin and hair, with bone And marrow, only so a genuine spirit; Else were thou but a shadow, but a dream! 2I2

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PERFECTION.I PERFECTION. O MEN, count not your gifts within yourselves, Nor carry on heart-reckonings with each other; When God sends rain from Heaven, he does not count The drops, but pours them out in plenteous showers. But say’st thou: “God owns all things! all forever! I answer thee: well, yes, and God gives all, So, only give thou all! For every mian IVho gives s is all is just as rich as God And even more blessed-were it possibleSince what is given away he has no moreYet gives away what is not his, but God’s, Who gave it him to be his heart’s delight! God lends for a short time-man grves forever. God lives and never dies: he cannot give His life a sacrifice - lo! man gives his Joyfully for his loved ones! Thus does God First become perfect and complete in man, Man whom He blesses with the soul divine. 2I3

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. OUR OWN. W HAT means: to give thy life up for thine own?

To leap into the well… strangle thyself? And leave the written words: “behold my love!” To give thy life up for thy kindred means: To consecrate to them sincerely all Thy days, to toil, to care for them with joy, To bear them in thy heart continually As thy choice treasures, reverencing them Devroutlier than the images of God; To gain the days by losing them in toil, To gain the nights by gladly losing them, The Springs, the Summers, Autumns, Winters all: And all thy years to the last closing year, To the last day and evening of thy life, Still drawn and bound to them with all thy soul. Thus giving, daring all things, sparing nothing For their sakes, power or love or soul itselfSo dost thou give thy life up for thy kin. Thy life, however, that was not thy death, Thy dying long beforehand, thy last day! Now go, and offer up thy life to them, As they themselves do all their lives to thee, The labor of their hands and even the hand 2I4

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OUR OWN I. Therewith… The overwatching of the eye, The energy of heart, the soul’s affection, The days of youth, the wisdom of old age, The friendly and familiar intercourse, And with all: Heart and soul! and world and life! But all of this thy kindred cannot do For all; for many; only thee alone. All this thou canst not do for all! for many! Only for thine!

yet this canst fully do! And in the doing thou findest life’s reward. Thus each man finds salvation in his kin. 2I5

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE REFUGE OF THE POOR. THIS know thou: If thou hast an honest mind, ‘Twill lift thee up above thy fate, and make E’en poverty and hardship light to thee - Thou canst be free in giving-yet /ase nauzght! A miser thou canst be - yet very rich. Be of good courage then! thy honest mind Lifts thee above thy fate! Then labor thou MIore busily than for mere gold and goods: To gain a noble soul and glad, good heart! Be not still worse than thy unhappy case, Be always better still than thy best lot.

WVho forces thee to feet within thyself Only as in the world itfares with thee? In such case all the poor must always weep, And the good-hearted should be always sad. 2I6

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THE BEGGAR-MAN.2V THE BEGGAR-MAN. ND fanciest thou, the poor old beggar-man A z Roams round forever like a ghost on earth; Because he glides so visibly to thy door! He has been coming now these million years, And in these latter days strangely to thee, And haply, Saturday, will come no more Thou art to him peculiar; so to thee Is he, now from a boy grown old and weak,. And grown so poor and feeble on men’s earth, And will so soon be a rich man again, And no more suffer want-like all the dead. Well then: now coarsely drive him from thy house, And set the dogs on him, and laugh and hoot, When in his haste he stumbles o’er his cane, And lies there helpless, sprawling on his face. But be assured then that thou hast in vain A wife and child,- thou know’st not who they are; Then be assured thy gold and treasures thou In vain possessest-for thou know’st not why; Nor know’st: How short a time; thou know’st not this: To God Himself his life is beautiful, To man his life on earth is beautiful, Only so far as by his spirit he Breathes beauty over it and through it bliss. IO 2I7

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE SAINTS. FULL many a noble man has had to bear A dismal fate,- man at the hands of men, Their hate, their errors, their fanatic rage; Suddenly, ignominiously they sank Trampled into the earth with nameless woe; They sank like water spilt upon the ground; Yet still the story of their dismal fate Lives ever on men’s tongues; their image stands As if in marble, weeping in the world, And whoso hears of them or looks on them, He also weeps, sorely bemoaning them. O beauteous lot, to touch the hearts of men! To wring out tears of pity from the eyes Of unknown generations through all time! To be a man of sorrows, that is sweet! To be a sound of sorrow in the mouths Of myriad men, and tears in myriad eyes. The unhappy man is really the tear, He is the sadness in them, he himseel! Nature creates not mortal ones alone, She makes immortals also, like to gods, Who sweep afar down the long line of days And to poor mortals say invisibly: 218

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THE SAINTS. “Be calm! be glad! thou sufferest naught! But I Have suffered.

Look on me -and be thou glad!” Let him then who endures fate’s hardness, whether He suddenly or slowly perish, think: “A solace thou shalt be to myriad hearts, Shalt be their sorrow, ah, and even their tears!” And then, when sinks his dust into the earth, He mounts as spirit, as a flame to heaven: Heaven in the heart! And as man felt himself For the last time before he left the world, He feels himself forever. Even in parting His life all darts into its solid core And shines forever a bright star in heaven. 2I9

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE RELICS. R ELICS… who ever lived that had them not?

Without these treasures who would care to live? The heavens are all one great sarcophagus Full of the holy dust of holy life. Man gazes sadly at the ancient stars Which in the dim old ages brightly shone O’er every head and now shine down on his. They have survived the world-consuming fire, As if they were the sparks it flung abroad; The stars are the most aged, immemorial Old relics of the ancient God Himself; The witnesses: that in the magic cave He once has lived, and furnished forth all life, As a great feast, a banquet of the Gods, And there the torches still are burning on In the new morning! And the sun hangs there The true old chandelier to light our earth. Earth is the holy altar where, below, Heaps of once living bones, are mouldering now In peace! Each handful of the dust thou tread’st, A touching relic, of long-withered flowers And human children, who saw fourscore years. The earth abides forever-they are gone. 220

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THE RELICS. ‘Tis not the relics that are venerable, They only witness what is venerable, And chain our hearts in mute astonishment. Yes, he who fell devoutly on his knees, Before yon stars, yea, he who knelt in prayer, He piously would feel the life they saw With rapture, he would reverence that old life Because he looked with awe on men to-day, Because he loves his own and even respects Himself as without duplicate for all time To the unloving, God’s a hollow spectre. The ashes of burn/t s/raw all men despise. But to the loving, nay to him who only Can feel astonishment, the childlike man, Who sees in the first blade of tender grass A miracle; for him each relic charms The spirit forth that first appeared in it, The love that once expressed itself thereon, The lovely soul, that raimented in dust Still lived and loved - and vanished into dust, As the poor roses and poor violets, With none to save them, moulder into earth. And with the wonder melancholy blends, Tle truest relic of the universe, That still is left of all that charmed the soul With beauty, glory and divinity! And so too are the great old temples all, With all their many rigid marble feet, Their ribs, the hollow sockets of their eyes, The green and moss-grown shell of the wide roof, 22I

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THE’ORLD-PRIEST. Only the relics of a monstrous beast Of the old world!

And so are the old scrolls All only relics, even the holiest, On which that wizard of the world’s great stage WVith a light touch impressed his spirit once, And then like violet-fragrance, in his springs, Exhaled with it. And what but relics are Whole cities peopled still with myriads Of hermits swarming through their streets to-day? A relic is thine own paternal roof, The garden, which was once thy mother’s care, That mother’s baby-spoon, her first year’s shoes, Which as a wonder of the holy world At the glad marriage board are carried round Upon a platter to the guests in turn: To show the young lady as a lilttle child, And soon to be a mother, who will soon Need such another pair of shoes again, To put upon her little native gods, Who will in turn sit at the marriage board And soon have need of little shoes again To put upon their little native gods. For He who in this ever-shifting play Of generations, still so gloriously Lives on, can surely be none else than God! And He appears to the glad marriage-guests, And they are mute! and many a mother weeps! But in his open soul the father sees: That man himself is but the sacred relic Of father and of mother; not alone 222

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THIE RELICS. The precious lock which he with tearful eyes And reverent hand cut from the dead one’s headThe very hair on his own blooming head, The fingers of his hand which he beholds As wonder-works and mysteries, they are relics Of father and of mother, even as they Were relics of their fathers and their mothers And men are holy relics all of God! Witnesses to attest His ancient life! But holier be to thee the God who lives to-day!

Discern His presence in the present spring, Which is a wonder once that no man sees! Admire his beauty in the present rose, And lingering dewdrops of the starry night, Embrace Him in thy tender, blooming wife; Her eye be holier to thee than the stars Richly reciprocate her love with love; Pay honor to thy children as young gods. For thou wilt also with thy wife one day Be to the generation yet unborn A wonder and strange relic of the past. For there are common relics that belong To all,- the old heirloom of earth itself, The mountains, vale and stream, and moon and sun; And then to each, peculiar, precious ones, Valued and venerated more than all: The plough which once the father drove a-field; The dear old pear-tree which his father planted; The old time-piece on the wall, the cuckoo-clock That even above his cradle voiced its call, 223

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. And like the genius of their humble cot Called blessings down for thousand happy homes; The wedding-ring sent down from son to son; Grandmother’s little pearly white child’s-tooth The glass from which the dear sick mother took Full many a sip of water and her last; The lamp that in the death-night gave for her Its f’eeble glimmer and survived her still The last few threads of yarn upon the spool Which her industrious hand so gladly spun; The last of violets her child brought to her; The old church-spectacles for Sunday use These are the holy things; whereby to see God, if one can achieve it, and our loves In Him! whoso has relics dear to him, He whose eye gazes on them, till his heart Is melted into the great reverence, Needs not another’s treasures-strange to him; Enough, too zmucic, for him to have his own, He has enough in self and wife and children, A sense of bliss transfiguring the world; Honors himself, as breathing saintly form, And lives a saint and honors living ones! 224

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THY FAITH. THY FAITH. W HO, down in this deep cavern, then, has made All in the darkness here, the tender moss? Has the whole God Himself descended here? The whole Great God from all the starry heavens, To the last corner of the farthest space, The whole Great God Himself with His whole might?

Not surely the whole God; for He remained Himself up yonder in the starry heavens, In farthest space filling the universe. Who now in this deep cavern, then, has made Down in the darkness here the delicate moss? But tell me first of all: Why was this moss Not made a star? So much even as a palm? Who teaches then the little drop to fall here? Who shows the little spider how to spin? Who teaches the young bee to build her cells, Small, yet complete as the great starry arch! Who ever taught the little gnat to fly? Hast thou there seen the teachers, hast thou heard The instructresses who taught a sunflower To rise into the air out of its seed? The little apple-tree from out its core? Not the whole God with His entire might IO*

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Has taught and done all this. Of the whole God A portion full of God, a being divine Itself, with power and magic virtue filled, That lived and wrought here for its own delight, Which it shares not with any nor can share, Which naught despoils nor can despoil it of. So every thingfulfils its Godlike life Encompassed by the magic potencies Of all the rest, so far as it can stretch Its arms, its twigs, for help. Yet by itself All lives! Each must live by itself, indeed, That so the proffered aid may serve its need; Else all things, flowers and trees, and beast and man, Yea, and the very stars themselves would be Mere phantoms, mirrorings of all the powers At work in the great universe around; And even these powers themselves too all were naught! But thou, 0 man, be of thyself quite sure, And of thy spirit, which is thou! Thou hast Nothing beside; through it alone hast thou The fair rich world, and God so far alone As love divine wells up within thy soul. Hold fast thy God and on thyself believe. Thy faith is thy possession, is thyself. 226

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LOVE TO GOD-GOD’S LOVE. LOVE TO GOD-GOD’S LOVE. THOU that hast lost by death a precious heart, And seest the image of the form so loved Stand mute and motionless before thee now Thou wilt, and thou alone canst worthily Honor the sorrow of the men of old Who kept the memory of the loved and lost Immortalized in fair and lovely forms Of brass and marble, had their images Cut out in stone and wore them in their rings,Thus even when the holy ancients lived, Even then innumerable forms called “man”

Profoundly, so profoundly mourned their dead, Shed many thousand burning tears for them; Ah how the human race has wept, has wept!-The human race?

-Who was it then?‘Twas not The human race that shed those tears, that mourned, That was dissolved in bitter grief and followed In death the dead so passionately loved. Who were they then-who was that weeping race? -The Spirit of tlhe univzerse!‘Twas He Who wept His tears out through the eyes of men; Himself has He lamented, with the hearts And lips of men has He bewailed Himself, 227

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. The forms which were Himself, He with their hands Has buried, heaping up above their heads Mounds, monuments, - memorials of life, For signs: that ever His eternity Subsists but by thingsfleeting, born alone Of ever new and ever bitter death. And even despair itself is better far, By far more noble and divine than cold Forgetfulness, iron indifference. And have you not this long time far and wide Wept all of you a Son of God, who died A cruel death? Came not a whisper there: That even God dies, that God Himiself can die And will, and that too though He will not dieBy force of His original primal nature, Which He, by no compulsion from without, Yet with an iron firmness bears and must Bear in Himself eternally -He must By virtue of this nature - ever die… Only without once ever being dead, That so He may be able evermore To feel a holy melancholy, such As no unbroken life, and though it were As blessed as a child’s, could ever give! For to lose life in seeming, only seem To sacrifice the highest rapture, that For God Himself in man, and to the God In all, is highest rapture, so first known, So only.- And were not this holy cause, This reason coming from the primal world, 228

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LOVE TO GOD -GOD’S LO VE. Death’s final cause to the primeval spirit, Then would all thought, all knowledge, all research, Then would all highest love itself-have none! But now, by dying, by beholdi;ng death, By such departing never to return, Such disappearing from the light of day, Such giving up for all the days of life, Is dust itself transfigured to God’s dust Dust moulded into shape grows into bliss In human tears and human lamentations, Which are the lamentations and the tears Only of that forever blessed One, The eternal Spirit of the universe, Who pours them forth immediately, Himself; For every shape is His eternal shape, And every soul is His eternal soul. - Those were old scraps, old sparks (those words of old), Of the great Spirit of this universe Who ever on the earth has felt and known Himself, and long ago expressed Himself In holy forms He wore in earlier days; Old scraps, old sparks of Him, the words that said: ” Who gives to drink a cup of water, he Gives it to God. Who looks on me, a man, Looks upon God.” Who to a dying man Gives comfort, gives a joy to God Himself See God then in all beings near and clear, And lo! ye see and feel Him in yourselves! Do good to your own selves and all around you. He who has honored, loved a living man, 229

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. He who has truly wept and mourned one dead, That man has loved, lamented, wept for God, All full of the sweet preciousness of death, All full of the pure blessedness of love. And out of God alone all love wells up! And it is God alone whom all love itzeans, He from whom only, every breath proceeds, By whom each finest dust-grain lives and loves. Naught is but God, and full of Him is all, Full as of love, so of His loveliness And even the beauteous, Godlike frame of man Is the deep, holy, honored reservoir Of love, from which alone man learns and draws And tastes of love, and from no other source Divine than this clear, inexhaustible well! 230

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THE PAR TING. THE PARTING. T each at last the earnest parting comes, Beginning of the end of mortal life, Harvest of all the loves and all the woes A man’s heart treasures up within itself, Which earth and heaven have kept in store for him, And now shake down upon him in a shower, Just as the eastern kings, returning home From victory, at the triumphal feast Had pearls and jewels rained on them by hands Of love, in welcome golden beaker-fulls. The days, to suffering and to loving ones, Seem now for the first time true holy times; Now glowing memory sees that all the days Of life were just so holy, just so rare, So matchless. Yet who thinks of this! And better: Who should not think of this: From forethought free, So fearless, full of love and care, these days Are the true life days. This is clearly seen Now by the suffering and the loving ones, And a faint gratitude creeps through the song, And the grave’s breath cuts chilling through the heart. The beauteous, beauteous days are ending now, They cease and never will come back again. 23I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. For the last time all things begin henceforth So softly to transpire. For the last time The almond blooms,… how sweetly, wondrously; Itself a miracle; a miracle The eye that looks upon it; the still soul That sees once more that friend of youthful days, Adorned with all the grace of all its years!… For the last time, now, comes the father home With such a friendly joy in all his kin;… For the last time the sun goes down; the stars For the last time climb up the darkling sky;… For the last time on yonder moonlit hill The children sing their songs to Easter night. For the last time around the table all The gathered loved ones sit. For the last time The children tell the mother a good-night,… The mother on each forehead prints a kiss, And clasps them long in silence to her breast… For the last time comes sleep, the friend of man.. For the last time a holy stillness reigns. Till suddenly the harting startles all; HoPe flees abruptly from the sobbing ones; Fear shrinks and cowers, and death, invisible, Speaks the last word, well understood: Depart!Then for the last time is there parting too! And bursts of more than childish tears are heard, As ne’er before; yet not for the last time.For parting’s sake alone was death devised; On life’s account it needed not have been, But parting is the silver-glance of love; 232

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THE PARTING. Rich, and replete with all divinity; Then first the spirit feels fully what it is, Had here, has still and takes away with it. Calm and devout then be the parting hour! For nowhere is there greater festival, Any so high, so holy mystery, In any temple, any realm of space, As where love dwells beneath the lowliest roof. 233

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE END. THERE stands in flower thy bed of hyacinths, Thou seest them all bloom out and fade away, They have gone out like bright and brilliant flames. Thy friend, who comes to visit thee, finds none; He would almost be glad, could he deny That flowers had been here-thou canst give no proof To him that they have lived-but thou thyself Must sadly own each flower has had an end, And though they have fulfilled their being’s end, Their end has come. They’re gone, and nevermore Shall they return! never these graceful heads! So the sick mother feels and truly says From her heart’s depths: “When will my last end come?” Though such a word will rend the children’s hearts. ” His end has come at last!”

the people say, Of the oppressor though he has not harmed Their bodies; only, fearfully, their spirits; Who fain would not have left their souls free life, Nay, would have stamped upon them all his head As on so many coins, and yet could not, For by God’s will each human heart is free. “Who knows how near mzy end mtay be!” So says The aged father, and the children all 234

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THE END. Believe his word and see it soon fulfilled - He came -and he has finished, and he says Justly: It is fulfilled, this brief, this vain And transitory life, which for each man, Speeds like a whizzing comet to its end, Like meteors that shoot and fall to earth, Once and forever lived, and made to tell, Once and forever, then forever gone. To cease, to make clean end of that which each Has been: here, as a hyacinth, and there, A violet; there as rose and here as manSuch is the end, if in this universe End there can be; the only possible And all-sufficient end for all that lives And loves and wears a body and a form And has a feeling of its days, and feels For other forms, which it uniquely loved And none beside in all eternity And in all worlds. Living, alone, is life, But even the violet puts its raiment on, Made of old earth and of old heavenly dew; It lived upon the ancient dew of heaven, On sun and moon that wove its spring-time for it; Now in its lifetime it exhales again The violet ether into the old Ether, The father and the heir of all the creatures, Inheriting them all with all they are, And all they were, for He gave them Himself, Gave them His pure, original ancient spirit, That they might feel themselves to be themselves, 235

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THIE WORLD-PRIEST. And when they end, He takes it back again. Thus He who is Himself without beginning WVith heavenly bliss begins in them their lifeThus even He the endless One, with bliss Celestial, in them, with them ends their life. And if the sun, when he has day by day Risen at morn, when he has day by day Expired at evening, still remains the sunThe days themselves are nevertheless gone hence, They end-they end, because they once began. So violets and hyacinths and men End, and forevermore. Their children only, Their like, return; of themn not even the shadow They cast on earth ever returns again. For to be one by itself, precious and dear To other forms, as sacredly themselves, Invaluable, irreplaceable,For this that ancient force exalts, ennobles, Glorifies, yea, even deifies itself, Which, in its old familiar homely life, Save for itself, has small significance! Thus grows the smoke of coal to brilliant flame, Thus the sea’s breath to the bright bow of heaven, The marble mountain to the form of gods; And all that lives, ye living ones, esteem Far higher than all suns, all potencies. And prize the heavenly soul that lovesyou, far Above all love -that is but idle fire; And prize the enchanted creatures thatyon love Higher than all the universe with all 236

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THE END. Its contents, all its creatures and its spirit; For not till in this single, special shape, Was He so sweetly, blessedly nearyou, in you; For only in this unique form are ye So sweetly, blessedly near Him and in Him! And love has no beginning, has no end, And blessedness has neither bound nor time, And life itself is love and blessedness. 237

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE HOLY WEEK. T every house there comes its holy week, Haply its holy month, its holy year: The interval that passes, from the day WVhen first we know, a loved one soon shall die.. Be buried… vanish from our sight, be goneUntil the hour when he does verily die. That is your holy time, children of men, On which ye look with sad presentiments; The holy time, too, of the sufferers, The amphibious souls that in a dumb amaze Hover between the earth, the grave and heaven.. Now, look already down from heaven to earth.. Now, look already from their grave to heaven.

They go to bid the vale a last farewell, They sit upon the mountain-top till night, Till moonrise, till the sparkling stars come out, And love to hear a loud voice call them home; They go to bid farewell without a word To the old church; their childish plays; to take Leave of the garden where the roses hang Which are one day to bloom, the kindly trees Which have so often dropped down fruit for them, Beneath whose shade they rested on the grass. 238

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THE HOLY WEEK. By others unperceived, they touch the stem Once more in token of their gratitude, And the young trees in silent benison. They bid farewell to clouds notyet arrived! The snow that on the distant mountains lies Sleeping, and will not melt till they are gone The fount that trickles down so silently, The old, eternal, holy mystery. The friend comes yet once more to see her friend; The friend comes oftener now to see his friend, Yet once more, as to one that soon shall be A rarity, that only a short time Shall longer bloom on earth-the king of day. The children all lead and accompany, With trembling joy at still possessing her, The kindly mother, who so sweetly smiles And seats herself among them all once more, Not yet an angel, scarce a woman more, Only a lingering shadow, not yet gone. The pigeons all come fluttering to her feet… The lambkin comes.. and the tame magpie comes And chatters oddest things, that make one weep! The bees go buzzing by her to their work She folds her hands and lays them in her lap, And shuts her eyes, the children all are hushed.. She hands them now the earliest violets And weeps, good woman, as she looks on them… The cuckoo calls - but once, and then breaks off, And all look at each other and grow pale, But she-she only smiles, and the sunshines. - 239

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. At last it grows a sadness to go out Into that tenderest, loveliest warmth of spring, Into that all enlivening, balmy air; She only shrinks and says: ” I am afraid!” This is your holy time, children and men, The holy time, for each one to the full As holy, as was ever to a man, Full as to all in all the universe; Rich, as all kings together ever knew, Poor, as all beggars know on all the earth And through the heavens; in its sad sweetness given Only to the departing and their loves; By God’tis consecrated, theirs alone, Yet not alone to the now mouldering dead! That time, like death, is the onegiven to all, Which even the bird celebrates in the twigs, When with hushed breath he folds his wings to die; The time which raises mortals into Gods, Transfiguration of themselves and God. 240 F~,’

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THE LA ST PARTING. THE LAST PARTING. NAUGHT but a fiartiizg is the death of man; For other death there is not nor can be In all the range of this safe heavenly realm. Thllus is the death of man the soft farewell He life long dies, from tottering childhood up, And onward every day through all his days. Each blade of grass lives here but once on earth, Once for all time and all eternity. In heaven there grows no grass and not a rose, In heaven that grass will never bloom again, Else would the holy earth not be the earth, Nor yet would heaven be heaven, nor would the grass Be grass, nor even man himself be man. Never again lives this man here on earth, Never again shall to his bosom clasp The foAn beloved; never be husband more Nor wife; for him no more shall children bloom, No more the sun shall light him to his tasks, The smallest of them he shall do no mnore; Never a raindrop falls upon his head Twice out of heaven. He never shall grow old Again, not twice be mourned for as one dead.. Never again shall other mouldering bones I I 24I p

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Of him lie in the grave! Each time a task Is done, there also is a taking leave Of it; to drain the beaker is to take Leave of this draught; to rise from table means A parting from the meal; to rise from bed A parting from the sleep and from the dream, Which man shall sleep no more, shall dream no more. Every completion is at the same time A final parting from it, as the artist Parts from his work. - Yet to the living man This constant and familiar leave-taking Is his life’sjoy, for the farewell itself Is pleasantly disguised by still new tasks; But his past works ever accompany Man in the spirit and work out for him After well being, richly building up Life as a house for him wherein he dwells.

Thefinalparting is the real death, The full surrender, utter letting go, The blessing and resigning of all that Which man has ever wrought from his youth up Till now-till his last day… the holy hour When on the sight of the departing one His dead all rise again, stretch out a hand And bid him welcome, when on lightning wings Life’s joys all weeping glide before his eyes. Like dream-shapes to his rigid stare now seem They that were once so real and so dear - Those dear ones now as utter strangers close His eyes for him… for him, as if he too 242

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THE LAST PARTING. Were but aphantom shape from their life dream, Now fallen dead and lying visibly Before them there, all wet with burning tears; And now all trust in that dumb, sun-bright world, From which the truest, most beloved, believed, Have melted into air… and disafifieared, Is henceforth rooted out and utterly Dead and extinct, as the grave’s tenants are. To feel our bygone life, our loves themselves, The long since vanished ones - still with us here Beneath our sun, strangely to know of them, To know then, bear them in our conscious breastIs what we mean by “anguish ” for the dead; A greater wonder (greatest far of all, Which it confounds the mind to comprehend) Than if we had partaken henbane root, Than if we had ourselves the philter drunk Of death, we, and not they, the silent dead, And verily the living, they alone Do drink death’s beaker, yea, and drain it dry, Conscious! benumbed! while the dead.. only sleep.

All that the living in his day of life Was called to see already snatched from him And vanish evermore, Youth, Beauty, Joy, Like an intoxication which next morn Is as a dream when one awakes from sleep Shall not the dyinzg calmly let it go For his death’s time, the after dream of life?

Only to shake out nut-shells from their laps Have the departing-to fling chaff away 243

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. The bread has long been eaten, the seed sown To spring and grow beneath another sun. Not: thinking on this brief and fleeting work Can be the eternal soul’s eternal life.. On this still, everlasting leave-taking, And on the final parting which is death. The fnalharting is no endless fiarting, It is as short as sundown, it creates No endless deprivation and regret, No infinite sense of something missed and lost; For even the robbed-of-all soon goes himself; The evening sun to the long shadows says: “I vanish; and ye vanish too. The more Ye stretch your length out over field and vale, The sooner shall ye disappear like me.” So also do our dead ones speak to us When the time seems to us too long till night; The sorest parting is the blessedest: It is the witness of our truest love, And of the highest worth in those we love. Thus sweetest solace lies in saddest grief; The happiest only reaches the blest woe Of being the unhappiest, but only Because he once has been the happiest.

Through tears he holds as by a magic spell Before his sight the bliss he once enjoyed, A rainbow builded of his very tears; His sorrows - they are only his past bliss Still living! to the sad and sorrowing heart, The sincere mourner, not a joy can die, 244

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THE LAST PARTING. Can fade, for him who does not in his heart Bury in cold despair a buried heart. Vain is all thy ado about the dead; Can prayer, or mass, or penance bring them back? One thing I know, and only one, that soothes, That strengthens and that comforts…grief! Ay grief Belongs to life as a sweet part of it, As a constituent and essential part, Oft even to youth through many a troubled year, To age most surely, though for a short time But all the deeper, richer, the more brief. A child has not yet gained much; only he Who largely has possessed can greatly lose. Therefore the richest loser is the old, For he canr. lose the entire human world.

Who loves most, he can shed the sweetest tears, Yet even righteous griefs are griefs no less! Thus is our loveliest, our truest life The presence of our friends! their intercourse With us: our seeing, hearing, loving them; Their hearing, seeing, feeling us so near As spirits nevermore are near each other For loud, exulting, and enrapturing joy, For blissfilfieace!

Bodily nearness is The nearest neighborhood of souls, the heaven Of love, the purest satisfaction given To heart and eyes… filling them e’en to tears. - - 0 ye who live, to you each hour brings joy! 245

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE EAGLE. HE feeling of security, the sense T Of satisfaction as the well tuned heart’s Clear ring, man needs, that he may make his way Onward with calmness, and with confidence May do his work, and even freely breathe. First and not least joy needs firm standing ground, He who is rich and well does; and the poor and sick. The upward, heavenward look shall strengthen him As if he saw there thousands of the blest Who comfort him with looks that gladly say: There still is bliss!

somewhere up there on high! Even though he toil and pine and suffer here.

But without shrinking, without fright to look Up even to heaven, and down with sweet content To earth, which now in stillness holds his grave, ThIat needs the sharp, discerning eye to see What an immense, nay infinite realm of woe The ancient Death up yonder does not sway; How he does not there waste, destroy, make wholly vain The beings’ life, and make the universe A terror and a horror in its vast, Frightful immensity and endlessness.

Sorrow is man’s best teacher. The old father 246

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THE EA GLEE. And the old mother of my youthful wife Had on one day both gently breathed their last, Had on one day been buried in one grave. And now she stood in the bright, starry night Gazing from out the old tower all undisturbed By me, as I close by her sat asleep. I reverenced her grief, yea her desire To cherish the blest dream that her dear dead Were happy somewhere up there overhead In heaven; may even to behold them there As stars; for it is written that the good With brightness of the stars shall shine.‘Twas yet Long time to moonrise. - When at length I woke Roused by gold blaze and quivering of my eyes, There stood the moon high in the firmament; But she -on the stone balustrade bowed down.. With low and agonizing sobs of grief And with closed eyes she lay there fast asleep, And I awoke her calling her by name. Then on my breast she fell, as if a friend’s Breast were a refuge for her from all Heavens! And when she had collected and composed Herself, and knew me and herself, she said: “How good, that thou still livest, that I live! But scarce can I believe this greatest wonder. I saw in dream this night wide open stand The true, the great, eternal house of death! The house -it was the old familiar world Where we had spent our lives from childhood up. I sat upon a gold-brown Eagle’s back 247

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. That hung there still, as if nailed up in air. I knew: that every seven thousand years One of his feathers only would turn white, And when at last he had grown white as snow, Then, when a hundred thousand years had passed, One feather would grow brown… and all at last At such long intervals! He could not tell How many million times he had grown white, And then grown back to brown again, with age. Now he was brown, without a plume of white. Then softly, slowly he rose up with me, Glittering all over with a lustrous light As if his flight were through a mine of gold, And constellations above constellations Came down to meet us, large and luminous; Quite nearly, clearly, could I look on each, Quite plainly could distinguish every voice And through all bloom and green that hid each disk, I saw wide open many thousand graves; And’spite the swarming populations all, Thousands of dead I saw lie buried there, While mid the hum and din of funeral trains We slowly swept along and soared aloft, Till I compassionately wrung my hands. And in the disk of every new-found star Again I saw the graves stand open wide, Heard the heart-piercing, agonized alas On each one’s dying lips!… What an alas F’orever groaning up from million souls! And so we landed on the stars of graves 248

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THE EA GLE. And so the dread alas! still met my ear, So long, long, such immeasurable time, Till of the Eagle’s feathers one grew white Then to the right he bore me through the sky, And in the sidelong sweep I also saw The graves upon the stars all open stand, And heard in tones heart-piercing that alas!… When, as in stern rebuke, the Eagle asked, ‘Hast thou created then the starry host?’ I, struck with awe, for answer only prayed, But he swept onward. Mute I gazed around, Still heard I the alas!… and I too sobbed. And when I now had dried my eyes again, Then had the Eagle an unmeasured time So long, so long, so far, swept on with me, That all the feathers of his neck were white… And now I shuddered as I thought: how many, How many of the death-stars have we seen! Then did he gently let himself descend, Down-down- so many hundred thousand years That all the feathers now on both his wings Were white; and all that long time while I gazedAs if let down on a great amber chain, Still other stars arose upon my sight On which innumerable graves stood open Wherein they lowered constantly their dead, From each of whom came forth that sad alas! The alas! groaned out from the woe-laden breast, The alas! wrung out from the soul’s parting hour, The alas! that made my innocent soul to quake. II*

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Love had long since been stifled in my breast, I had long since had no more tears to shed, And as the sun, so still was now my face; My heart was ice and long had ceased to beat. Then asked the dreadful Eagle, once again: ‘Shall I go down a hundred thousand times As far through the abyss? Millions of times As high soar with thee?… To the right… so far? Leftward… so far? We yet have time. Then come. Yet hear me and believe: the living die On all the stars with that profound alas…

Wilt thou have been the maker of the stars? Wilt thou then be their master, nurse and mother? Yet ere thou answer, weigh thy answer well! Not only is it so throughout the vast, The boundless universe, nay so it was So long, long, such immeasurable time, That I so many timles have changed to whilte… And brown, as there have raindrops fallen from heaven, So many times as there are grains of sand On all the stars, times so innumerable That all, all water had a thousand times Been tears already, and all, all the air Already sighs, yea even the sore death groan; Of earth each handful had been… dead men’s dust. And wilt thou wait, canst thou endure so much, Then shalt thou see, that it shall last so longSo long, that I shall for so many times As there are stars: have grown now white, now brown, And inconceivably longer,- long! how long!’ 250

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THE EAGLE. Then I with horror from the Eagle plunged Down from those terrors into the abyss, Hoping to fall out of the universe, Away from death and graves, away from love, More willing not to be than full of dread, When lo, thy voice called to me in the heavens, Thy name rang through me with a saving power… Then on thy bosom I awoke with joy - Yet here am I in dream brought face to face With the bare truth that like a nightmare weighs Upon the universe in which we live!… Live-did I say?

Nay if I longer live, I only wander round a death-pale ghost As livid forms that leave the grave roam round,To all a terror, even the little ones Who fear their very mother… till she weeps!” And her whole body trembled as she spake. When she had wept out on me all her tears And passionately clasped me to her breast, Me, as a wondrous shape apart from all On all the stars she in her flight had seen, I put to her that Eagle’s question then Wouldst thou not then have had God make the stars, And wouldst thou rather never have been born And sooner when thou diest die utterly?That Eagle was the bird of wisdom, wife! He has made known to thee the eternal life Which in despite of death is jubilant; He has assured thee of the eternal love 25I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Which loves its dead, and feels them living still; For naught can rend from love its proper heart. But learn the vision’s highest teaching now: All death comes after life, comes after, not Before it. Lo!

to every one life lasts According to his own peculiar time. It is as blest as his heart’s feeling is, As cheerful, as the eye that looks on it. Then look this one thing calmly in the face: He who lives wisely, lives to good old age, He craves repose, he asks a peaceful grave And they that love him, grant him the repose. Lzfe lasts the ti;se of zmai’s eteriity, And parting lasts but a few holy days, And dyinzg lasts only a nioizent’s tinieLike the mere rising from the marriage-feast, Like going to sleep for a long pilgrimage, Like gently waking for the long, long sleep. How short is death-how long and fair is life! 252

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THE SCHOOL. THE SCHOOL. THE world’s a house in which a man should dwell With moderation; yea,‘tis well with thee If thou dost never make missteps; transgress Against the ancient usage of the house, And art, tizsef, still, good, though it were hell. For thou canst only feel thyself, not others And what thou wilt, that which thou dost and wouldst, That is to thee thy world, in its own spirit, Which is peculiar in thyself and each. ‘Tis the best thing for man to reckon life A lesson which the universal spirit Gives himself day by day, on to old age And what he has to learn while in this school Where he still is, when tottering on the staffFor that alone’twas built (so let him think) For that alone he came into it, and that, And that alone, which he has learned, he takes Along with him 
hard, hard words oftentimes, As: “Bury now thy father and thy mother! And: ” Now thy wife!” “Now learn to take thy leave Forever of this lamp, and close thy eyes, And in the darkness open them no more! ” Yet sometimes cheerier ones: “Take this fair maid” 253

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. “Now make a wedding”… “A baptismal feast”… “Now, go make merry with thy friends! “.. and now: “Visit thy son!”… “Thy daughter’s home make thine! ” The will to learn, this power to do the right, Makes glad the pupil and the old master, too, As if a child should learn for him the names Of ancient heroes, battle-days, and towns Whose memory long ago had died away, Which he will never visit, never need To know again,- but only this one day! And of such things the teaching shows the masterAnd of such things the learning shows the scholar As one exalted high above all time, Whose only aim in life is to unlock The holy feeling of the heart, to unfold The heavenly understanding perfectly To the large freedom of the realm of thought, To the pure bliss of turning a full gaze Upon the Right, the Good, the Beautiful. And lfe is discifline - and nothing more. Not with a thirst for low things does the spirit Come upon earth; no, for the hzghest thing: For life! and for the proving of its love! 254

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CONTENTMENT. CONTENTMENT. OT many fortunes has the world to give, Only to many, ever different souls, The simplest, shortest policy is best, The wise men call it: quiet human life. And gifts too are but few, ever the same. On a few simple viands, milk and meat, And creatures of the water, wood and field, And garden fruits, on these and such as these, The human race has lived, day after day, From gray old times, and will till gray old times. The same old light, the ancient solar lamp, Illumines all the earth, and house and hand, And work and faces, darling cradled child, And each one’s pathway graveward, and the grave. The same recurring cares, and children, fill The hearts of parents; all are moved and stirred By the same modest wishes; each but gains What others gain of goods who gains at all. The young man wooes and wins himself a maid, The maiden likewise wins a youth; and both Win children; and the child a mother, father, Brothers and sisters, and a flower-garden, And playmates, and a little play-ground, too, 255

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‘THE WORLD-PRIEST. The self-same yard in which his fathers once WVere happy children, and his grandchildren WVill one day take their turn at youthful sports, Till life’s voice calls them off to earnest work, The self-same work that all have done of old: To holy labor and to blessed love: To thousand-handed labor, with-its thousands Of implements: loom, shuttle, plough and wheel, Yet all of them twigs of one common tree!.. And love, the thousand-fold, itself with thousand Heart-flames, and all: leaves of a single Rose! So for themselves to live, then to take care Of parents, nurse them, bear them to the grave With tears, and then at last prepare themselves For parting, bless the world and go their wayThis is, in all the wide, wide world, the whole, Of human life among all peoples, when It comes so far as this, when happily Such term is reached. But thou - make this thy hope! Thou canst not reach so far as other homes, Scarce can thy warzmth of love, thy strength, thy hand, Reach to tiy very kindred in thy house. The others all would, without help from thee, Utterly perish, had they not themselves Their heart-full, each, of love, their wealth of soul. Place firmt reliance on the heart of men, On every one, into whatever woes His path has led him; man is stronger than His heaviest destiny; in sorest need He still possesses that old cry to heaven, 256

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CONVTEVNTMEHNT. V Still human pity, counsel, solace, help; He has, himself, in every wrong he bears, The sense of right; when wrongfully accused, The shield of innocence; when assailed-defence, Patience, forgiveness; yea, a man still has, Even in the deepest woe, the refuge sweet Of weakness, lyzng low and keening dumb, Nay more, tie drying up of all his tears, - And then, then first, within his Godlike breast, The mighty sense of triumph over all: “Thou art a man; and this is human lot!”

Place firm reliance on the human heart; Surely: “in each one dwells the living God.” So look serenely out o’er all the lands, O’er all the homes of men, for therein dwells Power!… Look abroad over all graves; for there Power has resided, triumphed, done its work;… Look round on all the children, all the birds, On all the flowers, upon the sun -for there Power will dwell, conquer, reign victorious! 257 q.

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE PURE SOUL. W HAT once is done is wholly perfected, Wherefore should that be hoarded up and where Keep it? and who should keep it, and for whom? And could man ever use that thing again? The breast with this new moment’s feeling filled, The soul preoccupied with other thoughts! How could the old man use again the joy With which in boyhood once his bosom swelled, When for the first time in the stream he bathed That flowed all rosy red in evening’s glow? What meaning has it for the mother now The laugh with which she laughed to greet her dolls? What signifies the sleep slept yesternight To-day, to the well-rested traveller? What signify the many tears once shed, That only from a present sorrow flowedTo the encoffined sleeper smiling there? The soul itself grows ever purer, cooler, Only a few great things can move it more; To treasure up the soul itself for man He scarce would thank one for it, as scarce worth thanks Man thus is made a mummy thousand times. But every thing he was, all that he was 258 a

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THE PURE SOUL. In every moment perfect and entire. The ceaseless transformation silently And sweetly shaped him to the man complete. He grew upon the feelings he outgrew, As the tree flourishes on the spent rains. No maiden ever wept that she had grown ,Up from an infant to be tall and fair! Memory is a lightning-flash in dream, Each thing holds good its moment and no more. And joy and sorrow man contentedly Dismisses from him, as the mother-lark, Lets her young fledglings go from the still nest, Be it left desolate; swept away by storms. The soul of man is like the mother-lark, When without knowing what a rapturous joy She was preparing for, instinctively For the first time she busily built the nest. In the new spring she builds it gladlier still! She carries, in the sense of those light straws, The heavenly feeling of the little feathers! The pure, the loving and confiding soul, That is the best for the new morning’s dawn, That is the best for the last evening’s dusk, That is the best, O
man, for a new life. 259

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THE WOIRLD-PRIEST. MOURNING FOR THYSELF. LET not the beauty of this world so spoil Thy heart, that thou shalt pity thy dear dead For this, that it shall be enjoyed no more By them, no more beheld! though it be only The morning red, or but the evening star So clear, so beautiful, that makes thee weep With its gold beam - without them any more; Yea, though it were the faces soft and sweet Of children now in tears. Do not esteem Thyself so highly, as almost to pity The dead for this: that they no more have thee! Love will,‘tis true, make happy: that indeed Is her employment and her joy. And that Thou grudgest not them who once loved thee. - But Thou hast them not! Be that thy noble grief! For death brings sorrow, though it were a God Who died and though it were a God survived. Pity thyself thou never wilt nor canst When thou art dead; thou clearly knowest now That thou art good as dead, else of thyself Know’st nothing. Pity no unconscious thing; The dead have verily not lost at all God and the world, have lost them less by far 26o

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MOURNING FOR THYSELF. Than one born blind has ever lost the sun. To miss thyself seems something less to thee And lighter, as a modest, pious man; But in frofihetic dream to miss the world That seems to thee far harder.

And wouldst thou Beforehand tear the sun away from heaven, Get Titans to reduce the world to powder, That none might longer live when thou wast dead? If thou canst not root love out of thy breast, Let truth, let wisdom solace love itself! And let the heavy woe rest light on thee! * Be not dismayed that all thine eyes behold Shall still remain one day when thou art gone: The house wherein still shines the silent sun The moon, as if each night she sought thee there; The mountain, and the clouds still sailing by; The trees that every spring bloom out anew, That every autumn loads again with fruit. Let all this pass, with calm, glad, pious heart.

For all this comes to pass for those who need it In their days, as it came to pass for thee In thine, as beautifully, blessedly, As to all generations that of old Came upon earth, to thousands all at once, And to each individual in his place. Lament not for the sun who still in heaven Shall stand and shine and warm the earth and man * The remainder of the piece from this point was (perhaps designedly) repeated by the author in this volume after the piece entitled “Health,” as a separate poem, and called a ” Solace for the Sick.” 26i

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THE WORLD-PARIES T. Nay feel thou rather all t,le chidievn’s joy With which hle will be greeted, even as thou Art greeted, as he greets thy children too! Compassionate not the earth that she must stay And give to other, unknowni hands!1er flowers And ripen them her harvests, nor bewail The wood that shall for others wear new green, The bread that still shall lie upon the boardThey too will need all these the very day After thou goest, and ever, ever more! And thou no more need them! But smile to think: How pleasant it will be above thy grave… How full all things will be of lite and joy, To grace thee too with monumental pomp,* With such a silver bright celestial lamp, That thou mayest not so miserably lie Cast out from God, in darkness buried there. This house of heaven is the fair home of all, Mysterious heritage from sire to son This house of heaven is to all dead the fair, The invfnitely venerable tomib / In parting, to imagine all the bliss All beings in all days of coming time Shall yet enjoy in this great heavenly house… To feel it thousand-fold within thy heart Through which it thrilled and flamed, and glows e’en now So that thine eyes still trickle down with tears, * The reader may well be reminded, by the tone of the poem here and onward, of Bryant’s “Thanatopsis,” which it might almost seem as if the author had taken for his theme, pursuing it into a more exalted and cheering region of faith. -

T. 262

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MOURNING FOR THYSELF. As flowers that drip with drops from the spent clouds - Clearly to feel at parting all that joy Is the beginning of eternal bliss! Going to sleep with it, thou’rt blest forever; For, sure, “eternal” is the spell-bound hour, Lost in far depths, and vanished clean away! 263

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THE WORLD-PRJEST. MARRIAGE. W HY would it seem to the heart-broken wife, Returning from her husband’s funeral, To wed, the evening of that very day, Another man: adultery?… yet why not Adultery when the year of mourning ends? How can mere days change for us virtue’s laws Or nights affect our duty to the dead Of truth and love? What worldly feeling this, Distracting, deadening all men’s heart and sense, That makes men’s usage and morality? That no one blames the newly married one, That the most strict old dame excuses her, And says: “The dead man’s dead and gone! -
she lives.” But man and wife have not the modesty, Are not content: to have enjoyed their heart’s Great rapture once - and only once forever, And then thus early to have lost it, yea Have given it up as lost forevermore… Yet after all does not the old heart still live? So will they now in memory at least Still celebrate life’s great high festival; The best of earth’s good things they e’er have known Shall be to them at least a good thing still, 264

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MARRIA GE. A solace and a comfort even in woe; Their life shall in their hearts repeat itself! A true heart’s dream! Oft sorely expiated; A dream impossible to be fulfilled, That never can become full blooming truth! It contravenes man’s right divine and might, His sun-like might, the law of love and joy! Yet what necessity does not, love does not. Love does much that necessity seems to do, For love is at the bottomn of each act Of woman, and her smallest work! search thou, And study her, and thou shalt find it so! Yet sharply see: from love to whom, perchance, She seems to act against and without love And thereby often does a secret wrong To others, to the unloved, with a sigh Over her sore fidelity which she Towards her dead husband exercises still, In the new husband’s arms, for children’s sake.. For their sake whom he left to her in charge, Who need a father,- a protector she. To fear for others and to care for them, To suffer and be sad in others’ place, The bitter cup which fate’s chastising hand Has poured out for her dear ones, secretly To drain in silence… yea even die for them, That can a noble, delicate woman do. Yet that is not the heart’s pure happiness, And after happiness must man aspire; 12 265

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THE W0ORLD-PRIEST. Then hear, ye happy ones, and do my word: A life-long friend and helpmeet is the wife To man, for many years, and every day Of higher and a genuine heavenly worth; Ever more precious, worthier, holier.

No other lives, even though a younger one, A richer, a more beautiful, or even One more intelligent and amiable, Who to the husband ever could be that Which through these holy years she has become, Has been to him! and is to him to-day: The joint possessor of his very life, His days, his every lightest pang of woe And every joy! no other ever could Be that to him again! nor yet could he Be to another what he is to her. The want of time would of itself prevent Another’s ever doing that for him, The want of time would also prevent his Receiving that at any other’s hands! To every husband then, an only one His wife is for all time; to every wife Her husband is, for all eternity. All other men, however young and fair, Are to the wife simply: imizossibles; imbnossibles all other wives to him, However loving, young and beautiful. For one thing not even love itself can do: Rejuvenate the heart, set back the hour On the world clock and bring life back again! 266

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AI RRIA GE. Once only can she… make it beautiful Once only can she make it… beautify it And fill it with rich bliss for every soul! Know this, ye fair, young, breathing, heavenly shapes! And cast not down your eyes at it.- Resfiect Yourselves! and him uniiiuely whom you love. But thou, young man, and thou, young woman, hear; None else than he who has accompanied A wife from childhood up even to old age, And watched her with a close and searching eye, Could ever know what a wife truly is Needs - and a husband therefore owes to her. The wife is much in ever-changing forms, And great are her requirements all life long. The wife is not a lightning flash of beauty! A day of youth, or even a spring alone. She is to man a whole earth festival; And who has from gray old antiquity Accompanied the wife and scrutinized And recognized her with a searching glance, That is the Eternal Reason in man’s soul! And this, 0 young man, make thy property, Take wisdom to thyself as one would take Gold from a hill of gold which blessed spirits Had with industrious hands piled up for him; Till thou as nature’s miracle venerate The wife, and willest all that the wife is And will be to thyself and to thy children Long years,- the mother, and earth’s younger sister, 267

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TIE IVORLD-PRIEST. The earth’s, the gracious mother of us all. So wilt thou not offend against thy wife! So wilt thou sternly scorn the maid herself Whofor a day would be thy wedded wife As if the apple-tree should offer thee Its blossoming branch to make a broom! The sun Himself for night-lamp! - Couldst thou with a spark Of reverence accept it? couldst thou dash Statues of gods to atoms?  Maim not then The woman, Earth herself in heavenly form! Immortals only can behold immortals, And all good souls are deathless and divine. Divinely the good soul both lives and sees. So high, such heavenly rich reward it yields To know ourselves: “

WHiose shirit we are of!.” 268

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CHILD AND OLD MAN. 2 CHILD AND OLD MAN. A A HALO floats around confiding youth, Which, though its time is measured out to it Already, never measures it, itself, As if life were eternal. Soon the man Reaches the summit of existence; and Although he well might reckon how much time With the best prospect he had still to run, He reckons that not yet. Thus life is missed Only at last; as in a bag of gold One misses not a piece or two at firstAnd does not feel the loss till near the end. Only the last years are the ones man weighs, And what there haply might be need to do Distributes to their months. The aged man Counts life by weeks and days-and at the end Ea.ch has enough to spare… because there was A’o need of doinzg any thinzg, (as he Now by experience taught can clearly see,) Save to be man in all the things of earth; But earthly things are quite innumerable And inexhaustible, even if the bucket Failed not by leaking at the golden well, Even if man ended not as man at death. 269

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27HE WOPLD-PRIEST. THE HUMAN MOTHER. T HOU good but all too modest human mother, Five children, so thou deemest, thou hast borne Fivze suns hast thou created! Five earths, too, And moons no less; and many hundred springs, And many hundred thousand roses, fruits;For to glad hearts alone creation is Five mothers, one to each, five fathers, too, Hast thou created for love’s tenderness, And childhood’s veneration for thyself! For childless parents, ah! assuredly They are unloved, unreverenced; and like them No man, no friend, no human being else Can ever love; therefore are children sent Who need thlee; whom no human soul beside Can ever deal so kindly with as thou! Then feel thyself rewarded for thy pains, For all the anxious nights thou hast watched through, For all the toil and labor of thy hands, Yea, even for thy love’s distressful dreams! Five pure and pious children’s hearts will pray For thee at morning and for thee at night; Five heavenly spirits, similar in form To thee and him, thy heart’s beloved one, hover 270

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THE HUMAV MOTHER. Around thee, waiting for a mother’s word, Nay for a signal of thine eye, to fly As if with angels’ wings to do thy will. And soon thy maidens in the garden grounds Will everywhere accompany thy walks, Soon stand beside thee at the hearth, its flame Reddening the rosy cheeks, and first in play, And then in earnest lend thee faithful help, Soon will they softly step into thy place, They will release thee from the works of life, Yea, quietly at last fron lfe itself. When thou art sick, they’ll lead thee; when thou’rt faint, Carry thee in their hands; with sorrow burn When thou art sad, and weep, weep, at thy death, As none on earth beside could ever weep! Thou wilt not be forgotten on the earth Long as they live; and in the days to come They to their children will delight to talk Of thee, as thou to them wast wont to talk About thy mother, and they listened there As to the story of a miracle, With reverent stillness and the frequent sigh. Every good word to them which thou hast breathed Into the tender, open heart of youth Shall have a resurrection, live, work good When thou hast long thought of and found thy rest. While thou wast living, in their soul didst thou Bury thyself, and they are now thy fair Anrid living monument! Faithful to the last In their gray hairs! And in their hour of death 27I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Again thou drawest near to them, as once Thou camest softly to their cradle side And if they found their mother once again..

They would not need to seek in heaven the father. And if all else of life thou didst repent, Yea, even vain, swift, stormy life itselfOne thing, one only, - his repent not of: That thou hast been a mother, blessedly Created many beauteous worlds, and these Bestowed with rapture upon blessed ones; For without mother is no love; to him Who loves, and him alone, the world is made. Thy children were not living, but for thee! And tzou - tlhzeir mother only couldst thou be! Not only a home-born, but onzly-born Being, is man, is every blade of grass, An only living one; no grass-blade lives Twice. Live in beauty then thy singular life, In joy and good, thou holy human mother! 272

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LOVE FOR ALL, NO LOVE AT ALL. 273 LOVE FOR ALL, NO LOVE AT ALL.* W I LT
thou escape the woe of earthly life, Then look thou down upon the earth somewhat As does the sun. The sun sees only forms, Not hearts, not spirits; nothing singular; For what is singular returns no more, And only what is singular pains when lost. No state of things has for the sun an end Forever: each relation, still renewed Year after year comes back to him again! And not a flower has he forfeited In spring’s new splendor. Man alone is doomed To see his rose-wreathls one day wither all! To him the stars unchanging stand in heaven! From iiiait the days and nights successive flee! The sun sees nations ever swarm belowMan sees his children fade from out his house The clouds that drop their rain on man are gone! Before the sun clouds sweep forever by. And dost thou, with the individual, cast off Love? The lovely mask of nature shatterest thou? Oh no! oh no! The never-varying works Are worthy of man’s love! -” the highest love, - “Allgemeine Liebe - Keine Liebe,” - apparently a rhymed proverb. -‘1 T. 12 R

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. But only all works, of the love of all.” - Lovest thou thy wife, thy children and thy friend, Only because they came from Deity And are divine; as thou admirest Raindrops that from the ancient, holy heaven Descend, not as mere idle water-drops; And canst thou in the mortal form behold The immortal, then thou hast the Godlike eye; And Godlike-to my thought - is man! and thou! Now then thou hast no more what once seemed thine, And yet was only in appearance thine; Thou reachest to thy child a father’s hand As if thou needs must part from him forever But lo!

he clasps it in his little one! Thou hast thy child still! and thy child has thee! But now thou art as rich as God, and as Thou only lovedst passionately before What was thine own, so thou possessest now And lovest all things, all things that belong To God, and that are now no less thine own - Nay let me not, nor let thee, longer sin! For hadst thou really accomplished that Thou hast succeeded then in murdering love… And putting man to death, who owns and loves But little here, but that with all his heart, And more divinely bless6d than the sunLike whom thou canst thyself now nobly shine! As radiant emblem of all soulless things! 274

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SHA ME A4 ND RE.VORSE. SHAME AND REMORSE. W ITH tearful eyes thou gazest down the vale, Not daring to uplift them to the sun, For in his name thou art ashamiedfor him, That he still shines there overhead and will Continue to shine. on so all the daysAnd they have buried there a precious friend Of thine out yonder in the vernal earth. Nor dar’st thou even look upon the earth Thou art ashamed for her too, for her flowers, Her foliage, yea, her very grass itselfDeeming thou provest thus a pious soul. Yet how unfeelingly the sun shines on, Lighting the sons of men adown the vale!

The mountain stands there motionless! The towers Stand there like weary travellers looking round; The clouds sail by; the sparkling river gleams Like silver; airs invisible float down From the blue sky, and race like children round, Frightening each other with the blossom-twigs; The golden flowers around thee at thy feet Open their eyes upon the new-born world Like children; buzzing come young bees along And from the chalice suck their daily bread, 275

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. The sweet celestial milk, with childlike rightAs once a dead child, born a moment since, Upon her mother’s bosom drank her fill.

Wilt thou dislodge the bees from out the cups? Wilt trample out, like sparks, the golden flowers? Oh, as the mother pitied her poor child, So, touched with natural feeling in thy heart, Do thou take pity too on the young grass And every stalk that has come into life! Is not the earth then mother of the grass, The buds, the blossoms, each poor little leaf That straight would die without her faithful care? And have they not already once all died, The thousand blossoms, and the thousand clouds, The silver full moons and the suns themselves That with thy dead once held glad fellowship In her sweet days of life, her vernal hours!.. All they too who once lived before her here Ere she came in to this her human feast! Her too the mother had for only child. Each simple grass-blade has its separate fate In its short summer day: the black rain-cloud That drenches, buries it in clotted earth; The goat and steer that like great dragons stalk, The burning sun himself, at last the scythe! Each several bud has its own special fate, Has the cold night frost, has its caterpillar, The thunder-storm at last -the little fruit Which drags it down to earth without a grave. And the fruit too fulfils its silent fate 276

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SHAME AND REMOR?SE. At autumn’s hand, the children’s and the winter’s -

And all of them are gone in the new spring. And should then, after ooze, one single spring, The fair earth be a widow evermore? Quite childless? Of all mothers wretchedest? Thy tender dream wishes her not such fate, It grants the later children all their life, Else wouldst thou grudge it to thy dead one, who Came not till after numberless new springs! And was not all fulfilled for her by her In the great mother’s-house, the children’s hall? Did not she too fulfil her destiny? The newest children and the last, do they Not ask for equal love and faithfulness? And which then of earth’s children are the last? Ah, none! for, even without earth, evermore The divine mother brings new children forth To share her new, yet never-changing life, Bestowing upon each the self-same gifts. What? Dost thou not then open now thine eyes To look up to the sun? look out upon The earth and the new children she brings forth? Thou smil’st, the tears upon thy lashes still? Dry up the bitter tears, and only weep Soft, sweet tears now, o’er such maternal love! For such poor children! Who wish now to live And will live, whom thou fondly seest to-day So still and fair; and as the breath of heaven Breathes round thee, so let a presentiment Of the sweet life steal o’er thee, which one day 277

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Thousands of little ones shall live and be, - The children’s children of these very flowers Which now thou lookest for in vain on earth! Then gladly gaze thy fill to-day on all, On that most gracious eye, the sun o’erhead, On this good mother earth down here below, Round on that radiant ring of heavenly blue fizat is the human children’sfather’s-house, Still holding the green cradle of thy dead, Thy father’s-house and all thy children’s too! And weepest thou again? But other tears The tears of gratitude, the tears of joy - l/zen hast thou iart in all that silent love? 278

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THE KING OF DAY. THE KING OF DAY. D AY’S children are the joys and sorrows all; Labor and care are children of the sun. Man finds repose when once he goes to rest, And dreams begin; the wise man and the fool Are on a level in the arms of sleep. The world to sleepers is not, it has fled, For they lie silent, in the grave of Time Buried alive, prey of Eternity. Vanished away are fear and grief and hope, Hunger and thirst: the day-dream now is done: Of being husband,’ wife, servant or king; Vanished away, fidelity and love, Yea, even love itself! and even were love Felicity itself, -felicity Is lost, to sleepers, in the grave of time, And seems lost in the very grave of earth. Night after night, sinking to slumber, men Learn more and more to die, to be shut out From home, from the loved circle of their kin, Far from the gairish kingdom of the sun, All they e’er dreamed to be, to have, from all That ever gladdened, ever saddened them; Nay of their very names themselves, in dream, 279

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THE WO0RLD-PRIEST. Scarce to retain the faintest consciousness. Thus passes man away one half his life More lightly than into a burning tree…

Or than into the blooming queen of night. The dream: of being a man, man only dreams By day, as that divine sunflower the “King Of day!” Of many days! - Only by day He loves, he sees, he hears, is good and great, Then is he the whole man; the half a being, The poor half man, is the poor demigod. And now, is death a sleep-then he no more Is even that which yet in sleep he was, Then is he no more even as is the flower. But has he here been in broad day asleep And dreaming, and wakes up refreshed by deathThen is the sun less than the moon to him, The bright day blacker to him than the night, And love and bliss have been a dream of his, And those he loved fair visions of a dream, Which at his waking up from life have fled And which he has no longer tears to weep. - May then a God give His divinity To him and of his heaven the unknown life! 280

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THE SOUL OUR “STRONG FOR TRESS.” 28 I THE SOUL OUR “STRONG FORTRESS.”* T
flee for refuge to one’s own distress T From the world’s wrongs, is one way-poor but sure: To hide one’s self within his tranquil task, The wholesome task nature assigns to each, Is better: but the best of refuges Against the world is into one’s own love. Ah! there is life! A large life, all one’s own, Beautiful, boundless as a heavenly realm. Once only will it end, a,id with ourselves, Not with our loved ones, for we still love on.

What care we, hidden safe within ourselves, That day and night, spring, winter, reign without; If midnight clouds and stars, or moon and sun Hang over us in heaven - they only serve To light us to our tranquil human workAnd the least lamp will answer well enough! Whence came the earth and whitherward it drifts, Whence came and whither tends our pilgrimage, Disturbs us not - are we not here alive? That nature is so monstrous, so immense, So limitless, affrights not us safe screened Within our bower with roses latticed round. * Allusion to Luther’s well-known “Feste Burg.”

-T.

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2THE WOORILD-PRIEST. Hide thyself calmly in thy human life, In thy day’s work, wouldst thou be happy, man! Thy neighbor’s child has fallen into the brook And all the heavens are now shut up from thee By this one death, which strips off all their bloom; Thou only sav’st the child, and now for joy Thou weepest o’er its mother’s joy and thanks. Thou hear’st beside thy hearth of all the wrongs Fear and ambition heap on human kind, And weep’st and burn’st -when lo! a spark of fire Leaps out upon the loom, at which thy wife Weaves for the child a coat - thou startest up To quench the little ember, and forgot Is all thy wrath and the seized knife is dropped.

Mark then: The great is small to man and mnakes Him smaller. - But note also: What is small Is great and makes him greater, even good And happy.

Now then look on human kind: The many little, pleased with little things!

And stand amazed now at the blessedness Which even within a fiow’ret’s tranquil cup A God has placed, has placed: to find it there. 282

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THE OLD BEGGAR-MAN. THE OLD BEGGAR-MAN. FROM sunrise unto sundown, everywhere, Creeps through all nature a deep shuddering, A holy horror, a mysterious wrath, That from the bosom of the tempest moans And mutters heavily and wearily, That frights us in the sparkling gleam of stars, As if they struggled all-to fall from heaven; That from the hollow roaring sea-wave howls, Raves in the storm-wind with impatient rage, Groans out of deep abysses in earth’s womb… As if it had been long, long ages pent, Walled up alive and buried in her black caves. The miner hears it not-he digs for gold. The fisher hears it not-watching his line. The boys upon the beach-they hear it not - They play “church-building” on the wet sea-sand; The girls at “cloister-building,” with gay shells. The lover hears not the night-spirit’s wailHe waits to meet his darling; nothing save The shooting star awakes him from his dreams; The mother hears no muttering in the cloudsShe lulls her child to sleep, bends over him, With one more kiss and one more lullaby. 283

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TIiE WORLD-PRIL’ST. None but the old bewildered beggar-man Sees, in his meagre shadow, in his staff, The weary spirit, which in mockery Blows the white hair around his pallid face, And with an impudent toss flings his old hat Into the river, just as if, forsooth, Tomorrow he would have no need of it; He looks upon his old and withered hands On which the sun now gleams with whitening light. He stares at the old woman with surprise \Who sought escape from misery in the stream; He sees her lying with her hair burnt off, Stretched out, as she was dragged upon the shoreThe little imps of boys set her on fire Only last night in scorn and ridicule Of her old age.- The old man gives a shriek, Creeps home, and after three days he is dead; And in the night his home burns up with him; A weary*
lightning-flashl set it on fire And saved him thus a coffin and a grave; The black burnt bones themselves looked tired out. As the old grave-digger so carefully Buried them in a pot in sacred earth, Depositing therein the kreutzer too, Which he had owed him since last Saturday. * That is, spent.

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THE HERDSMrA N’S FIRE. THE HERDSMAN’S FIRE. W HY need’st thou much? Life is a little thing, And but a little time that little lasts.* With trouble stirred,‘tis bitter; and when lost It seems to us a treasure heavenly great, Great as our love is to the darling ones Whom we have lost. To each it is his all; So with our loved ones all dies and is gone, And even our love becomes a feverish load. Then that which should sustain and still sustain, Becomes our death; even as the herdsman’s fire Left burning on when they drove home at night, Scorches the flowers around the burning hearth. ‘Tis always best, to go home with the sun, Who graced the day for us, and rest like him. Why need’st thou much? Life’s but a little thing, And but a little while that little lasts. * “Mana needs but little here below.” - T. 285

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. ORIGINALITY. N OT to one thing alone do all things point, All peoples to one people, of the race All individuals to a single man! Old time is not a preparation all, The new all fruit; all hyacinths are not A preparation for the rose; they were And will be hyacinths eternally! The oak comes not of preparation made By all the thousand pine-trees; they all live Together so upon the holy earth; The rock does not prepare the cloud; the cloud Does not prepare the beautiful blue rook; The violet that so early blooms in spring Prepares not for the aster in the fall. Only the violet came first, and later The aster. Later than the Jew indeed, The German blooms; yet neither Jew nor Greek Prepared him. The new Roman does not make Thze old Greek never to have been at all; He lived himself a true, original man. So holy is each race! and every man In every race; an individual man. And no one is another’s master. Such 286

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ORIGIVNALITY. Is the divinity, the liberty Of all the creatures, even of the flowers, The freedom of the little violet: Without another’s beck or bid, to be A violet by its own primeval, pure, And chastely kept celestial energy. So only their own sense of native worth Allows each people, every mnan, to live! And all, who were not of a slavish spirit, Have lived so, self-creating theirfair works, Doing their good ones out of their own soul, Never once troubled by their nearest neighbor, More than the swan is by the eagle, or The swallow by the temple where she builds. And who will live, a true and genuine man, He learns from the old stone, from the new grass, He learns from violet and from rose to live And love and to be worthy of himself! How for his sake the whole earth teems and blooms, How for his sake the whole full sun shines down, How his own clear eye lights up all within, The full soul and the full heart, full of all The wealth, none none ever brought to him, and none Can rob him of but his own slavish spirit. 287

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. GOD’S HUMAN LIFE. T0 be a king’s cup-bearer, or to hand T t The beggar at thy gate a slice of bread, There can no doubt arise, which in the sight Of God and man is the more honorable, And which is the more honorable to man. Thou scarce wilt hand the beaker to the prince, Remembering: God looks at thee earnestly; Thou scarce wilt hand the beggar-man the bread, When between him and thee the king steps in. So between honoring and receiving honor The human folk still hover, but not mian, The good, the wise, the Godlike man he who Never forbids, never denies hiimself, And never others, what is right and good; Who never, in a single point, allows Himiself or others, what is bad and base. Liberty: to be good that take, O men! To maim that freedom he must be ashamed, Who is proud and lofty, courtly, insolent; That freedom gives you dignity, and dignity Gives honor, and that gives you all good things. Free moral action is the only freedom! The heavenly mother of all liberty; 288

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GOD’S HU,IMAN LIFE. And seek ye not another liberty; Ye will not find another, worth the search; Yet for the noblest this is full enough, Enough, too, for the poorest man of all, For outer welfare and for inner joy, For every work in life;‘tis life itself, The only worthy life a man can live. Nothing can be denied to the free man, Nor is, to him who feels the dignity Of being man; never to one denied, And naught can to a people be denied, WVho count it honor: to bear God within, God in the heart, the soul, God in the home, Into each little act - as thus: to smile Upon a child, to give one’s wife his hand, Who gladly lives with him this holy life, With a free heart, the human life of God! I3 289 S

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. GOD’S PATIENCE. GOD was not bound to be, for, as the First, He could not by another be constrained: God did not will to be, for then He must Have been already ere He came to be. God is. And as He is, so must He be, And as God is He must remain forever: None is there who could rob him of His life, And He cannot annihilate Himself, In an unheard-of, giant suicide. So shall then the least mote of dust still flash, Time without end, in the last gleaming sun. So spake He once aforetime from wise lips: “Count therefore the long-suffering of our God As your salvation.” * And if one should ask, Which one of all the attributes of God Is most exalted, indispensable, Pressingly needful to Himself and all Who live from Him, and full of deepest joy, The universe would answer with one voice: “Patience! The holy patience of our God!” By it alone He bears, endures the world, The world with all its sorrows and its death, * 2 Peter iii. Is5. 290

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GOD’S PATIENCE. With all its errors, all its destinies, With all its bitter agonies and dyings.. By patience most profound, yea bottomless, Surpassing the mere lamb’s, that even though dumb Before the butcher, still will stamp its foot. Not even the smallest promise e’er was made A being, and so none is ever broken; None ever yet has promised aught to God, So none can break a promise to Him. All That He Himself is, He Himself can keep, His own law He can keep; as that He lives; But to be that was His necessity Which, with existence, He assumed forever. To ask now: “Why is all this so?” is not A blasphemy; it simply is in vain. And if there were a head as large and wide As the whole, whole wide heaven itself, a mind Of power to pierce through all the universe, That mind could never comprehend its own Existence, for it has no origin, No reason and no object but to be. Therefore it is incomprehensible, Eternal!‘Tis accountable to none And justifiable by none. And now As the First Power exists not by its will, So has not death existence by the will Of any being, nor has life’s decay And dying; for all this none is to blame, No one: and He, all innocence, endures The guiltless, innocent state of things, Himself: 291

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TIHE WORLD-PRIEST. All the more lightly! gladly! finding in it A sweet refreshment! and above it clean Exalted! yet a man can never give With heart and will a clear consent to this, But only acquiesce in it, endure it, By virtue of God’s goodness in his soul. And no coercion lies in this decree, And no great heart is e’er weighed down with guilt: Not by its fault the human race expires, Not by her fault the husband’s dear wife dies; He can forgive her then the bitter death; Without its fault the mother’s infant dies, So in his coffin she consoles the darling For having given her such heart-bitterness! Not by his fault the poor wife’s husband dies, And she, she praises him, presses his hand, Mourns and laments him; but herself still more. Such is the goodness of the human heart. And easier grows the solace; for all being God -has no aim, nor aught that comes from Him Endowed with life,- man has no aim - save only A4 free, a beautzful, a piious life. This rescues from dishonor all the world, This is the one faith that still clings to it In misery and death, in love and life. Innocent must man be to suffer allInnocent, purely to taste a single joy. Then lay no charge of guilt upon thzy soul, Against thyself or any creature else; So shalt thou. live serenely as a child, 292

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GOD’S PA TIENVCE. So shalt thou die at last more peacefully Than even a child - shalt softly fall asleep. God must endure Himself and the world too: God must endure Himself, -but for us men That means: we must endure ourselves and life. Thus does God bear with us, and thus do we With God.

Upon a despicable thing, Upon a thing despised can no man stake His body and his life, his love, his soul. Patience-it is the grace that reconciles God with Himself, all beings with themselves And one another.

Bear, O man, all things, All men thy patience makes thee more divine. Only be free to ward off from thyself The effects, the acts that follow fromln thzeir ways. So thou endurest God. So too ward off The acts of this world and their consequences, In thy God-given liberty; and this Thou canst accomplish easily, pure sougl! This word is not from Satan! for it teaches Contentedness: contentedness, the highest, The deepest, holiest tranquillity, Peace in the pious soul, and joy in peace. No hater chooses this. God only does; This is the one, the only, will he has And needs, to make for him that inner heaven Which is peace, and a life secure in love.

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. GOD’S GOODNESS. OT without cause is God called the “>ood God.” N My faith is in a great, good, generous heart, \Which never dies, nor breaks, nor yet despairs, From sympathy with all creation’s woesAnd in an eye which weeps no seas of tears At sight of all the dying, all the graves, But like the sun looks steadfastly from heaven, Mounts into every bud and kindles life - And in a spirit who calmly lets the world Around him pass through changes ever new, Himself being the good spirit that fills all And gives his peace and happiness to each, Who can and should be also good like God, Since verily the good God lives through him! For t#is has man discovered, lives and dies On this conviction: that God’s spirit is The spirit of man, that God belongs to man, As truly as man does to God, and both Are one in life, in worth, in length of days, What use to me, to thee, our being one! Oneness insures not bliss, not even joy; Freedom alone gives birth to patience. Patience Alone gives birth to goodness; goodness breathes 294

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GOD’S GOODNESS. God’s benediction over all the world. Thus freedom is God’s very godliness, By it He tolerates His tender soul; With freedom only man lives blessedly. Goodness is the free soul’s activity, For naught constrains, naught ever conquers it. Millions of beings live a reckless life, Owning allegiance to no law, they live Indifferent, following but the law of lust; Whether they lose their true life here, or whether They suffer evil, proudly unconcerned, Deluded by their strength and headstrong will. Goodness can have no higher sense than this And no more beautiful significance: Complete contentment with God’s nature; for Without the will of God His nature is It is not, then, surrender to the will To be; but to the will which says: be good, Patient, and so then pure and innocent. And never let that old doubt trouble thee: How God is to be reconciled with man, Whether and how He can be satisfied Through His long being, as He looks on all, Contented with the world and with Himself, Nay to win joy out of His life therein, And blessedness, whereas so many find Nothing but sorrow in it, and weep, and curse, And breathe the wish: “If only the whole world Would perish! None would be the loser by it! For he who is not, is deprived of naught; 295

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Just as the dead, when dead, miss not themselves. God would lose nothing, if He should not be, Had never been, should wholly disappear… Should cease.. He would miss nothing, being naught; For he who is not, surely loses naught; Just as the dead, when dead, miss not themselves.” And they in non-existence, find a joy The great abyss, the eternal, staring void, Wherein no star, not even a spark, gleams forth, No breath stirs in the great dead nothingness. They are the poorest, the most miserable: The guilty, on whose heads affliction lays A heavier burden than on pure good men. And them, too, heavenly patience solaces, God’s patience: patience to endure the world With afree will, with a free piety; And such a piety bears joyfully With God; it bears itself, itself alone Sweetest of burdens, stillest, easiest! To reconcile one’s self to the universe Is greater than with a poor son of man, Of woman born, and with his petty faults. The wild plum is not guilty of its tree, The goat’s beard, of the goat; the horn bears not Blame for the steer, nor yet the ear for the ass. The dead are not responsible for death, The sick and well are not to blame for life. To be a child, a poor good human child, Heartily reconciled with all the world, A human being, with deep pity moved 296

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GOD’S GOODNESS. To heli eachfellow-creature on through hfe Even to death and to the very grave: That is the goodness of the good, of God! That is the heart of God in all men’s breasts! That is His heart in the warm sunshine’s glow, His heart, His good heart still in rain and dew, Still His good heart in the cool, silent earth Which gives all patient souls a grave for bed. So man must needs then be content with God, God must Himself needs be content with man; And this content, that old primeval word Expresses, handed down from heathen men: RELIGION. This contentment is true joy, It is felicity! Eternal life! That life which the Eternal Goodness lives To make one’s self a slave, put on a yoke, To let one’s self be yoked, such bondage scares, With spectral terrors, gladness from the heart Free and spontaneous must death be and life, Free and spontaneous, bliss itself; then are they What they are wholly to free souls alone. 297

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE THREE HEAVENS. T IREE heavens distinctly recognize, nay four: T Z One is the heaven within thy soul, 0 man, The peace with all the world, the love and joy Which nothing outward can henceforth disturb.

That was the heaven of even the ancient Greeks, The lofty, stern and self-determined men, Who bravely set the freedom of their souls, High, clear aloft o’er life and all its goods; Who, what they could not master, at arm’s length Kept from themselves: fate, death, and others’ works, -

Kings in the free realm of the Godlike soul. But that same heaven-it is the very hell Of stupid, bad, and superstitious men. The second heaven is the whole universe Full of invisible, eternal powers, The treasure-house of beings and of life, The store-house and the busy laboratory, With seeds and germs of all things, even of men; The clothing-hall of all the yet unformed, Who, by the spirits that as rulers move In the sun’s kingdom, summoned forth at length, By joy’s sweet drawing, shaped and circumstanced By all the busy powers encircling them, 298

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THE THEPEE HEA VENS. Themselves live clearly in the spirit’s stead, Till they shall have to vanish, as they did, Into the formless, fathomless, sea of heaven, And be again that which they were before. The third heaven is the o’erhanging firmament, The beauteous azure with its rainbow arch, With its pearl dewdrops and its silvery mists, With flush of morning and of evening red, With sunshine, moonlight, and with falling stars, With rosy lightning-gleams and fiery snakes, The loud heart-agitating thunder’s crash, The speech of clouds answered by shouting rocks,* With its soft showers that bless the fields and meads, With its warm snow, the gracious covering Of graves and of the year’s outstanding crops. It seemed to them of old the brazen vault Bending near down to them above their heads, Whence the angelic legions were to come, And whence the Father with slight pains could come Down to His human children here on earth. That heaven was laid in ruins long ago, And what was left us, is the pure, fair blue. The fourth heaven is the world of dreams, wherein All shall come true and real, and be held To every word, that ever human heart Has wished or hoped - nay ever even needed; For the poor child has not yet learned and known *

So Byron: - ” Every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers from her misty shroud Back to the joyous Alps who call to her aloud.” - T.

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Which way to look, has not yet learned that all Shall be in richer, brighter form fulfilled Which childishly he thought to win by tears, And to extort by blind and stubborn will. And this last heaven will grow to glorious truth In man himself, by wisdom, insight clear And free and noble life, even here on earth, Which needs no dreams, delusions, falsehoods, more Which shall bestow all the three other heavens On man for an eternal heritage, But before all the one within his soul! 300

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HOLY BODY AND HOLY LIFE. 30I TIHE HOLY BODY AND THE HOLY LIFE. A MOLLAH
wise and skilled in scripture lore, A Asked me in Brusa once, by his wife’s grave, Smiling at one, to him an Infidel: Is that a solace, is it meant to be “In heaven they neither marry nor are married”? Can this be called a solace, or a hope: ” In heaven no more does one belong to another “? Is this a hope, a pleasant piece of news “In heaven unknown are hiisbaznd, wife and child,” As even here ”’ my mother and my brethren!”

That hope dissolves even here the marriage-bond! Thzat joy rejects e’en here the nzother’s claim Of brethren it knows nothing. So the word Is not said for the comfort or the hofie Nor for the joy of wretched men on earth! ‘Twas only set for life’s immortalizers, As lamp to light them to thefount of life! Perhaps to test if they believed it. No, The worst of all is,‘tis the truth. The truth Meant to console us here about that heazven… In heaven one day to cheer us, but not here On earth - where it breaks up all happiness, And ends all love, forever stifles love,

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THE WOPRLD-PRIEST. Love, that alone melts men together here In gladness, and alone brings bliss to man. Whoever now has no desire to reach That utterly love-bare and heart-blank heaven, MIay stay here and be blessed -let him not die, Or let him never rise-else he must make One in that heaven. But we console ourselves By taking to ourselves four wives on earth; That seems as much as for four human lives With you, and yet is really less than one Ri,ght happy; still’tis something even forever. Were we not going to find our Houri there, Who is ensured us -yes; but not to you! So you have marriage then only on earth, And we have marriage too only on earth; And here alone are wife and child, and father And mother, and a life so true, so fair I dread to think of being glad to die I want no Houri there to be mny wzfe, The greatest bliss is only upon earth, This real earth of ours, this real heaven, Where sweet love is reality, true love, Sweet smiles, sweet lips, sweet language of the heart, And the sweet face, the heavenly, beauteous eye!.. Where is a child in heaven? O where: my child? My child, that runs to meet me wild with joy, And climbs delighted on his father’s knee! I am content with earth, fully content With life, with man, content with woman - Oh, Not holy is the soul alone; the body, 302

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HOLY BODY ANAD HOLY LIFE. 303 That too is holy if the whole man is; Just as the temple with the name of God, So he, with God, who wears Himself our form, That here with eye and ear and every sense, He may take in all beauty, blissfully Rejoice in loving and in being loved, Which only then is no vain thing to him, When he himself enjoys it, living it. Thou who hast happily a wife and children, Weigh well the precious words of faithful love, Of heavenly satisfaction and content, Shut thyself from all heavens within thy house, Shut out from thee all distant things, and live There with tbv loved ones as a blessed soul There prize tlhy wife and children and thyself!So spake he softly, and wept bitterly.

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. HEALTH. THE corner-stone of life is health. It is The root from which grows up the Tree of Life, Whence Love in beauty blooms, and all the joys. Man’s body is his kingdom, sweeter far To him, than any king’s. And if dear life Has some… though limited and doubtful worth; Then health has clear and unambiguous worth; It gives a man the power no more to feel The presence of his body or his soul, Even as the fruit-tree does not feel its boughs, Nor the rose-bush its roses or its thorns; To bear, forget existence;- live in joy, As being pure existence of itself;To keep back and ward off for long, long days, Sickness: that terrible enemy of life, To guard against humanity’s worst plague: Untimely death, that mars the peace of hearts, Poisons with endless sorrow the whole house,For “life-long” means to man elernally. And if life is a hidden happiness In some unknown abyss of the far future, Or if the most inevitable of ills&Uitimey death is still the highest woe, 304

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HEALTH. The clozd-burst of afflictions which had else Rained softly down; the falling of the house Which else had sheltered the poor travellers long. ‘Tis the zt-%yiizg of our ship of life In burning fragments hurled into the air; It is the blowing up of the whole heaven, WVhere death becomes a demon, joy is turned To poison. Health is the fair mariner WVho guides with joy and skill our bark of life To the steep cataract in the stream of death, Nay, sails with us over the precipice And goes down softly with us in the mist. The husband must be strong to meet life’s toil, Whether he drive the plough or drive the plane, Strong and well able to protect his kin And strength, even without work, is a constant joy, Yea soundly, splendidly the strong man sleeps, And all delights enjoys a thousand-fold. The husband must be long-lived for his wife, To live with her on to a glad old a,,e, To rear the children, and in hoary hairs To sit there for the grandchildren to see A Godlike image of the elder world.

The wife too must have strength for household work, The women’s battle -
where as a reward A child is laid uponi the victor’s arm; To share in all house joys, to help her daughters, Yea, even the youngest, when the wedding comes, To see their children’s joy, yea, even to see How after her earth still shall bloom, who then T 3o5

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Shall occupy her house, who piously Remember her, still honor her when dead. He who was always well, grows old; the old Sated and tired with life, alone dies notHe only siniks to sleep, calm as a child.

Live wisely then, that thou may’st rightly live Thy days out, blest and making blest thy kin, Not by untimely death to kill their love, No, but to fill their eyes with holy tears And leave a benediction in their hearts On thee and on themselves, that they may go Home from the grave in peace, because they know Thy peace is now made perfect. Wisely live That so thy children may enjoy like bliss, And thy grandchildren. Live as if thou wert To live through all futurity; as if Thou wert to make all happy; even God.

That is well worth the fains! if any thing Is worth pains-taking. For in health alone Man owns the world, the days and every joy. The sick man starves… he even suffers life: Suffers the very spring-time, sun and year The sick, the suffering, the weak must needs Forego, to his sore grief and harm, the good God bade him do and sets before his eyes; Must leave the child to drown without his help! Neglect the work that would support his sire The limbs unexercised are like the limbs Of malefactors and of criminals; Non-use is misuse. By enforced repose 306

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HEALTH. How sorely suffers even the good man’s soul! Mian lives for others also, and life’s joy Finds only, living for his kin. They should Have joy in him, not sorrow, shame and grief. Health is the foremost duty of a man, The hloliest, high o’er all in sacredness. For without health, no life, no energy, No courage, even no posszbility To do the good and right thing vigorously, No possibility of winning heaven. Even like the soul itself, which is the true Sense of our life and of the universe, So must the body sacredly be trained, The body, which the fools from the next world,* The tedious comforters -their text the graveRespect not, slight, yea blindly disrespect, And treat more foolishly than any fool, With their presumptuous, frightful blasphemy! Let each man be his own full property!

And that he may wholly possess himself, Then must the organ of his Godlike will And human being represent him fully, Merely so much as to exist. And that Can never come by sickness or by death! So, by the side of all the temples, stand, Has ever stood and will forever stand The whole, entire lore and law of life, For all to teach, to learn and to live out. *

Literally the otfer world, and implying the fault Coleridge called “othlerworldiness.1” 307

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. So side by side with all the dreams still stands The true kingdom of heaven, and over all The wisdom that embraces soul and body. Naught can scorn health except the e/ezefl/s;, But all they form is mortal and grows sick And suffers; even yonder sun himself, The stars, within them bear their germ of death, As every flower and every child of man. Sound at the core is man and fitted well To live his life out, even as the pine And as the vine lives out its rightful time. But the God-spirit itself is new, as child, It, too, must learn to live. Wouldst thou maintain A wise behavior towards all heavenly forms, And earthly forces, thou must know /the’; well. For that how much man needs, and needs it long!, Then must thou be inviolably just; Must wll in all things the life-bringing right; The heavenly sustainer of thy life Peason alone cant be and Ite fpare soul They’ll never let a sickness fall on thee, They’ll ward off from thee every evil’thing, They’ll heal thee through themselves alone, albeit With simples which they choose, but only they! The power of culture is the healing power, ‘Tis the divine physician dwelling in thee, Even as the beaver dwells within his house. And yet the destiny of man rests not In his own hand alone. The ignorant And blind around him help determine it, 308

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HEALTH. So that in death and bitter misery Nothing is left him but his innocence, Guiltless to bear the errors of his race, All its shortcomings, even its unborn faults! For this his doom was he alone made man, And just as he calls good for them their sad Existence, so he does his own for him!

Not the most eminent godliness of soul Can make the child born blind to have his sight; The purest virtue leaves the lame to limp - It needs that all the rest should know and will And do that which shall be the health of one; They must have willed, have done it ages long In all the generations that went by Before his birth! for every new-born child A holy building is, an unveiled work Of all earth’s spirits ever since the flood; Only at that great feast which they have all Prepared for him, at that alone he sits. Inherited sin -that was a dream, a wild Delusion; the inherited consequences Of sin, of folly and of superstition, How real they! what woe they bring to man! To every people its past life still clings, Each wrong, each robbery-and pays interest! Each noble deed too, that with interest!

And a pure will brings with it a pure life, And only healthy spirits bring, one day, A healthy human child into the world. Struggle towards freedom, 0 humanity! 309

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. That no physicians may be needed, that Is every good physician’s noble aim; That they may one day cease from among men Like priests, is their divine and generous wish. Teachers shall soon be the all-honored name, Teachers of what is good for human souls, Teachers of what is good for human bodies. And bolli have but one aim: to teach the truth, Wisdom and knowledge of the universe. Into this lore all teachings flow together From every time, from every clime of earth: Into this knowledge, every seeker’s toil, Experience, art and work, and good intent, All finding in man’s weal their rich reward. From the physicians wrest their wisdom then, And from the priests wrest ye their learning too, And let them pass into each house and heart And out again, and day as well as night, Each one be true to all who are your own That which the people know not, no one knows! That which the people cannot do, none can! That which the people does not, is undone! 3IO

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THE THREE DEATHS. THE THREE DEATHS. HREE deaths has every man to live through, three T Z Only, if even such good should be his lot: His father’s and his mother’s death-for each In nature should outlast his parents’

lives - And then, as spouse, haply a spouse’s death. For seldom does that best good fortune come, That without losing one another, both In one and the same blessed moment die. The unloved die to no man; to each die Only his own: to love alone, is death That which it is, completely, utterly!

Our kindred’s death is our severest life. Our childhood’s divine images grow old, That round our cradles like immortals stood, And at our childish play looked on with joy; And innocently they too break at last Our true, piously grateful, childish hearts, Whose heavenly bliss this sweet delusion was: “Their passing on is not passing away! their stay Is not a steady, silent, shifting show! Although their words have always flown away, Yet the beloved and venerable form, Still always cherished with the self-same love, 3II

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THE 4’ORLD-PRIEST. That has not wings, that does not bear away Mysteriously therewith, each night, itself And us! each morn a new one does not rise!” Until at last before our terrified And wNeeping eyes an old and haggard man Stands frightful with gray eyes, who bears the name Of father, - and a pale old woman too, Our mother she is called! and verily That hard hand is the same good mother’s hand! That dim, weak eye is still the mother’s eye, For out of it smiles unmistakably, Though with autumnal, faded countenance, The true old love in all its youthful bloom. Joy to these even now half-sainted forms, When now their son, too, a new father is! The daughter a new mother! For to rock The grandchild on their knees,-
that to the hearts Of parents is a touching sign of death Grandma weeps softly at this messenger Of heaven, and blesses him and breathes a sigh: Ah, well with him, who never lost a child! That has no compensation; not on earth And surely not in any spirit-heaven; That is the sorrow that is everfresh, For which no reparation man should ask, For all irreparable to noble souls Is grief for an eternally-matchless good. True lovers need no solace and wish none; Their love, as tender sorrow, is their bliss.” And softly flow her tears for the dead child 3I2

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THE THREE DEA THS. The little grandson so reminds her of, And now her heart, with holy peace again, Strengthened by God, goes down into the grave. To true love, death is not to be begrudged, But the two children, midway on in life, By thinking of their parents’ death forewarned Of their own death and parting from their loves, Are thus admonished: so to regulate Their means of joy, that they shall never fail, And to be quick for mutual kindnesses, That so the sun for them may not in vain Lavish his costly oil, but that their hearts MIay still beat only for their dear one’s joy, So long as man still recognizes man. For overhead in the warm chamber sits The father’s father, ninety years of age. There comes a thunder crash-he hears it not!A flash-he sees it not, knows nothing of it. He has-forgot thie world, and even hiimself His good son grasps his hand to comfort him He starts as if a ghost came to affright him. “It thunders!” screams the son into his ear. - “Ay, ay, there did some such thing happen once Long, long ago, they tell us, in old times, But who art thou then? and what dost thou here?” Thlen screams the son still louder in his ear: Ah, father! know’st thou then thy son no more?” The blind old man then fumbles for his crutch, Beats his low bending reverent son and cries, ” Thou! thou! wouldst jeer at an old man like me! I4 3I3

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7THE WORLD-P~iIEST. I ever had a son?.. Who am I then? At last thou wilt perhaps make bold to say I had a wzfe!- a wife! - pray what is that? What was it? I, I can no longer tell If once I dreamed of such a friendly thing! But some one slept beside me, he must know! But he perhaps will say: dreams, dreams, moonbeams! * Make me a fire! I’m cold! to bed! to bed!” So dreams the old man, sinks suddenly and dies, And rubs, for only prayer, his rigid hands. The German proverb is: Triiume, Schaume (Dreams, Foams.) -T. 3I4

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THE THREE FESTIVALS OF LIFE. 3I5 THE THREE FESTIVALS OF LIFE. T HREE
sacred, solemn works man celebrates, The highest, holiest, oldest, everywhere Done by all creatures upon all the stars, Where one would ask in vain about our earth, Where ne’er a word, never a name of it, Has reached, as of a glittering mote of dust! All things that live have these three works to do, That swim beneath the waters, cleave the air, Or live upon or in the earth. And so The works - the eternal three - primevally Are hallowed, only worthy, blessedest To celebrate; and as clear truth, these three, With highest honor all things solemnize, Though silently as blossoms do on trees, Though secretly as do the flowers of spring, Though instantaneously as the Phoenix does. The three works are: Coming, renewing youth, And going,. The unique holy festivals: Are Birti, Rejuvenescence, Deatlt; which all Around him celebrate, as a sign to man, That all else is an idle dream of his Here current, there rejected; yesterday Literally: Bird of the Sun. -T. v

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THE WOR?LD-PREST. Nothing, to-morrow nothing, vain, pernicious. Yet -
marriage is what all prepare them for, From earliest childhood up; the little lark, The fig-tree and the youthful polar bear; Toward that all with glad yearning grow apace, The little almond-tree, the little maid, The boy, and the young roe-buck and the stork To stand one day in the parental home As mother by a husband’s side,- for that The mother hourly trains her little girls, And this they learn in playing with their dolls, Full of the bliss of still presentiment. For,/zaz alone they briskly help their mother In house and garden-ground, from dawn till dark, And rock their little brother joyfully, Conscious that they perform a holy work, Dear to their mother; for she sees the future And what the bony learns, what he learns to do Of all the thousand works of human life, And now rehearses, oh it all refers To one at least of these three festivals That all may celebrate them, haply all. Thereby he earns the right, himself to keep them. Then, when his greatest day at length arrives, He now forgets all that he dreamed and was, For thinking of his darling; casts his all Into her lap, a joyous sacrifice: His childhood and his youth; all his bright hopes Into her blooming formn flow visibly Together, and he clasps it in his arms, 3i6

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THE THREE FESTIVHALS OF LIFE. 317 And it in turn enfolds him to its heart… And soon, for love and joy and purest bliss, Gives back to him the image of himself! And soon he lays in her maternal arms Her very self, made a sweet child again! To see itself thus self-rejuvenated Fills the whole soul with deep astonishment; It clothes man in his Godlike dignityAnd he, the modest, blessed mortal man, Drops grateful tears upon his wife, his child. Thus is the festival of youth’s return The highest, blissfullest, love celebrates, Full of sweet strength to meet life’s blossom-time. It is the twice-rich, double-festival WVhen man made young perpetuates himselfAnd the child celebrates the holy birth, Treasuring up the pregnant memory: “The heavens and the earth long ages stood Ere thou wast born. And long shall they exist When thou art gone. Up! live thou!

leave thy like! And by the mother first brought forth to life, WVho shows him to the sun and to the moon, The child soon treads himself the old magic floor, And now the father’s life begins again; Meanwhile the daughter carries on the mother’s, That so the glorious form of maidenhood… That so maternal love may not die out… That man may keep the holy festivals. But sternest is the parting festival. For that is man preparing all life-long,

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THE WO01LD-PRIEST. But fitly only by a hafify fe;,And parting-thial he learns from childhood up! Let not thy dear ones die as if in sleep Thou robb’st them of the preciousness of death, Which He alone possesses, the deep sense: How blest we were on earth here, how beovelz./ Thzat only would the Spirit know-for that He came, and for this proud sense only, goes; 7Tis/ o be dead, repays not all the pains. - WVith holy joy keep in your homes these feasts, Blest are ye, when ye keep them heartily; They lengthen out-transfigure life for you: You lteii, then first, are human, when you keep them. For then you understand heaven, earth and life. 3I:8

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THE HOME. THE HOME. THE soul is homeless in the universe, It finds its first home in the souls it loves, To which it gives itself eternally, And which to it eternally are given. Man loses in the heart beloved his heart And very love; he makes himself immortal And it. Love only teaches him to live, And love alone, too, teaches him to die, If that is dead to us which still is loved. With unfamiliar ones man will not live, With the unloved he never is content. So the old man is fain to quit the earth How fair and young soe’er it still blooms on, How bright soe’er the sun still shines in heaven; To him the morning’s dawn brings: gloomy day! And earth’s new population: solitude! He yearns to where his loves have gone before Who first transformed existence into life For him, who make for him the universe A habitable world, the house a home. Yes, even should he never find them more - Yet will he leave behind this gloomy hole, Wherein he lingers lonely, the last man! 3I9

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T20 H E PVOP,LD-I’eIEST. Nay, where he now has ceased to be a zain! As all have ceased before him, in their turn, Abstracted, lost, withdrawn into their life, The life now swallowed in eternity, Become for evermore immovable, \Vhich no, no power can evermore destroy, Remove, annihilate, or even disturb; As even the lightning flash no longer makes The dead man in his coffin wink an eye. So holy is the might, the eternity, The still duration of the t/i!ng that was. WVhat is completed, satisfies, contents The heart for evermizo-e, and from the last In sorrow’s house extorts the Godlike snzile. The might of noble pride inspires his soul As he reflects: “I loved and I was loved. For all is vanity, uncertainty,Or certain only one day to be lost, That never ends, that does not fix itself In the majestic, calm, eternal state: Etei-ial.- though with men it sound like dead; Though deemed to mean, and though it did mean: lost! Lost crowns, lost sceptres and lost dignities Give the first real proof of the old king; The coffin of the world, the dead therein, First truly proves the living, holy king Of sun and earth, heaven and the universe, The spirit of Love and the eternal life.” 320

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IHE HOUSE OF LIFE. THE HOUSE OF LIFE. AND why, now, art thou so in love with life? Because a sun shines up in yonder heaven? Because the moon comes out and shines at dusk? They only light this dwelling-place of mine.

“Because thou canst at night lie down and sleep, And golden stars glitter above thy head? “I only rest then from the day’s hard wiork.” - Because spring, summer, autumn, winter, come? Because the roses bloom? the grape, the peach? ” That I enjoyed, too, when I was a child.“Because thou hast a child? and that child’s mother, Thy wife? because thou hast thy parents’

graves? Because a human people lives with thee? Because thou hast the sweet sense in thy heart, As if a memory: what beauty once And majesty was of old time on earth; Because thou hast the sweet presentiment What greater glory and what sweeter bliss Shall one day for the first time come on earthFor which of these now art thou glad to be? For which one of them art thou glad to stay?  ” It takes a heaven of stars to make up heaven, And many a thousand flowers to make the spring, 14* U 32I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. And many a thousand joys to fill the heart… All, all of that which thou hast named to me, And all my love, my whole soul joined theretoConspires to build up a heaven for me, Whose wealth so leaves me in a blissful maze, I have no power of choice and scarce of speech; Ah, all that maze of beauty and of joy! For that I have such deep, still love of life. From each thing singly I could haply part: Neither the violet, the rose, the year, Neither the clouds, the noonday nor the night, Not one of these should hold me on the earth; Only wit/z those I love would I go hence! But they have all grown to a flowery chain That binds me round with sweet and magic might. It is the all’tis life -the being a man, That binds me so to this sweet human life The heavenly sea that on its bosom bears Yon sun, bears me too wholly: so I float As buoyed by magic power, so lightly, yet So firmly and securely; as a steel Reposes in fair equipoise of powers. Amidst encircling magnets. So’tis said The dead Mohammed in his coffin floats; But I float living in the house of life.” 322

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THE CREDO. THE CREDO. HE whole truth not enough for happiness? T For peace?… Forsakes man in the hour of need? Oh woe on you! then God forsakes him too: Eternal fulness and eternal truth; For God is truth, as all the wise have said. But, 0 ye dolts, ye set your God aside, Spinning a cobweb brain-work of a creed, The vain, wild figments your blind hearts invent Wilfully, godlessly, concerning God, Chaff blown away by breath of common senseThat is to be the statue, shield of faith In which you, dreaming, image your own heads. Ye sing, pray, persecute, live, die, and bury In the true, only faith; what ye believe That shall in spite of God for you be truth. Ye shall not make of God a graven image!” Ye shall not image or imagine him, Nor make your brain a chamber of imagery.* God is called love indeed and called the trzth; Yet nowhere is God ever called: the faith. * Ezekiel viii. i2. -‘ Every man in the chambers of his imagery.” - T. 323

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Whoso is true to God, renounces self. But trttl/z * is that which you erroneously Have transformed into faith. Be true to God; Then has your soul, to you, become the truth. The ancient Credo has its root in trust. * llirtf; fede with the modem Romans, who have no word for Fiith [ in the theological sense.- T.] 324

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THE HOLY FRA TERXITY. THE HOLY FRATERNITY. HE poet is the finest guide to life. T The word is the eternal spirit’s flame. Not till the clear word comes, the spirit comes; It is itself the spirit, the innermost Sense and intelligence of the universe. Prophets and hypophets * both teach indeed That which is good, is right, but never can Give the good action, the good soul to men. As wakeners, as warners, they are good. Wretched and miserable as man were, And ruined, without what to him is gooda, Still the good soul waits for the fairest thing, The needfulest for a divinely clear, A lovely-visioned, feeling-gifted life. The poet makes life a clear thing and true, Yea, everlasting, even in one short song; He comes and makes life beautiful to men And sweet. A well-closed song is longer than A thousand openr years, the world itself. It brings a rapture in the word divine, Brings, in the holy beaker, heaven to man, “Hypophet: (v7roo)rr7l.) An interpreter, an expounder. (R.) Bunsen.” [Worcester’s Dictionary.] 325

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Brings, in the olden cithern, heavenly peace. No idle children’s words the poet speaks In all his tones, his colors and his formsHe carries in his bosom the world’s heart; WVhlatever stirs and thrills with woe or bliss * One human heart, the whole humanity, He feels it all, he draws it deep and full Into life’s well, as a complete, whole man. His glowing soul, like a poor child, enchained By a world full of beauty, there he stands And marks with mute and wondering ecstasy Each blade of grass, each shadow of a flower, As if, God’s holy servant, he must give Him and the blest exact report of all, And never miss a word.

And so he notes, As heavenly listener to His world’s goings-on, The thousand wonders all, from child’s-play up: The zest of youth; the silver-haired old man; The pale, dead mother; bride and marriage feast; Marks what the sorrowing widow tells her child; And funeral and farewell, death and the grave; Yea, even inspects the flowers upon the raves, The moon that shines on them in the still night. To him the dead all rest as in his heart, To him rise sadly all the flowers of spring, As out of his own life. To him the lark Only from out his bosom sings her song. The poor man’s tears bedew his eyelashes, * See Barry Cornwall’s lines on the power of song: - ” Song should breathe of scents and flowers,’ &c. -T. 326

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THE HOLY FR A TERNITY. The very rainbow springs from out his brain, The stars dart forth as sparks from out his eyes, The sun comes up out of his very soul; The beauteous maiden blooms from out his blood, Wherein she as his mystery lay hid; The beautiful and raptured lovers all They love with his love. For from him, from him As Son of God are echoed word and world!

Even as pious child he took each word Home to hiimself, as spoken to him alone! The whole humanity is his one teacher And conscious of his soul’s celestial worth, He feels himself God’s worthy messenger, His world’s interpreter and decorator, Bringer of beauty to the truth of life; And joyously he calls all men to share His clearness, all his treasury of wealth And is rewarded, when all see, like him, And feel the beauty and the bliss of life, And when, without his woes, pure as a child, His great song is to thee the highest truth, And he completes at length the round of man From infancy to age - one Godlike song. 327

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE PRIMEVAL WORD. [BIBLE; JESUS-SIRACH XLIII. 27.*]

HOSO distinguishes not himself, at all, His spirit, with his body and his life, From God, but absolutely feels and lives As indistinguishably one with Him, That man simply rezi’inzs that which he is, He clearly is what he forever was. He iwho requires himself and other men To do what good soever God can do, He has already in all olier zen, In every child, recognized God Himself, Who beauteously lives in beauteous forms; He treads not down one violet’s honored life!True to himself he lives. He robs not, steals not He knows: the clear, sweet eye in the child’s head Is his own, own original property The wee white tooth itself, the small plump arms, The little fingers on the little hands, The golden hair, and the tongue in the mouth, That stammers “Father” with great pains; the love That shines from him: these all belong * “Wherefore in sum, He is all.”,To TIIOv orwtv aTr6 - (author’s version:) the all is He Himself.] - T. 328

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Y7IE PRIIE VAL WORD. To wife and children one day to be his; And to his mother is her joy in him Her soul’s original, own property. But so is she the father’s; and the daughter Already is her future husband’s wife. He lies not. For he has so much of good And true and beautiful and salutary And helpful to his loved ones round about To say! and lovingly he knows and feels: All men’s salvation is the truth alone. No error, no delusion, then he spares. He runs his course serenely as the sun, Like him he rises, with his eye surveys The world, while lasts his day; then he goes down In light, himself the light, the primal light. Who then still says: “That too ends in itself Which thou hast done, and were it the fairest, best, ‘Twas simply useless;” says at the same time: “He too who did it, he ends in himself, The whole of life itself ends in itself And he who lives it as mere hireling- ” Whoso can utter such a lofty word Has looked far, far down through the ancient depths He feels and knows the holy mystery: Naught, naught is needful, not even being is; Yet for the sake of those who are, who live, For soft endurance and sweet sense of life Love to the dear ones is a needful thing, And freedom, honesty and kindliness; That to each soul its every word and work 329

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THE WORLD-PRilEST. May well forth softly as a fount’mid flowers And nothing more, itself too nothing more; Yet that is the most possible, the highest. He now who fain would rob the human heart Of this essential unity with God In goodness, power, yea, length of life itselfHe would not only rob man of his God, But would rob God- (the highest sacrilege) Of men, of all that lives, yea, of the whole Great universe throughout eternity, Wherein He lives; for God is life itself. And all that lives is He, even He Himself, So is the attempt abortive. For the bee Still builds her cell in holy quietness! So is the attempt abortive. For the bird Still sings his song in glad security! So is the attempt abortive. For the soul Of man loves on in its own blessedness! 330

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THE THREE WORKS. THE THREE WORKS 0 come well, live well, well depart again, T t All this is only oie tripartite life. To sow well the good seed, to tend it well, At the right time to reap - tIl,a is to sow To set out the good fruit-tree, watch it well, And nurse it till its end-t,iat is to plant To build on solid ground, then keep the house In order, to improve it. and at last WVith care remove the old walls-ltialt is to build. To base the realm on truth and righteousness, Then well to keep it as a house wherein Rejoicing generations long may live, And then when like a house it crumbles down, To end it honorably with power and fame, Tzat is a people’s one and /le-loig’ work. For nations too, like generations, die.

A people is but man, a thousand times, Large, long-lived: and in turn each one has died. Each man at last dies also; and to make His dying light, is the physician’s great And holiest work. His coining on the earth, That was his parents’ work; his living here, That was his own. Sweet dying, a soft death, Closes in beauty even the hardest life! 33I

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T7HE WORLD-PRIEST. THE CLEAR MYSTERY. S TARE no more at the world, in dull amaze That any thing exists, that God exists, That thou art, and that all things are divine. Not for astonishment has man been born, If yet for reverence and for recognition. The spirit lives not to adore forever; It will not, needs not, be self-deified, It craves a higher good, the very highest: Thly life it wishes, and its own, in one. And fearest thou, thou art not near Him then, And dost not know Him, if thou liv’st as man? One thing believe,- it is the sacred truth: If e’er thy soul with rapture thrills and glows, Though only for a flower… if e’er thy heart Beats with emotion… when thou only speakest A loving word in whisper to thy child… When thou dost good to any tfellow-man, Even in the dark, in silent solitude - Then art thou far within the sanctuary, Thle very innzermnost miystery of God; Never canst thou rise higher, or be greater; And round thee shines the silent universe In all its holy fire, its centre thou, 332

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THE CLEA4R MYSTERY. Its very heart, its soul, its light, its glow. Whoso respects not here his faithful life, For him there is no longer help from-death! And if the good holds his in rare esteem, … What more does he want, but eternity?But even a breath of love eternal is! … What needs he more, save greatness?- Yet less great The universe than a glad human heart! A man is surely not too good for heaven, Not to say for the earth, where living is done Harder yet noblier, though in woe and death; And the good God is not too good for earth Where first He lives out His full blessedness And though thou mightest else well say: “Lo! there Spirits bear home the dead with dirges meet;““Yonder sit spirits at a marriage board With a fair friendly spirit… the blooming bride; ” “There, has in yonder house a little spirit Just come-they lay him in his mother’s arms;” Yet now on earth, as man, thou callest them, And rightly: men! For a deefi mystery Is the name man, though a familiar one To you, who live with one another here As friend with friend, who do in earthly days Such little works, and call each thing by name! 333

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE TRANSITORY. EVILE all things in heaven and all on earth, R Z Revile all powers and worldly customs all, Only revile not Transitoriness. Else thou revil’st the dead, revilest life, The Mlaker too, who called all beings forth Out of the sea-depths of the universe; Thou makest Him the child with hands hewn off, A stone, a (now really) by-gone God. Immeasurable, enormous, is indeed The number of all beingls living now On all the stars in all the universe. This mighty, swarming, myriad-peopled now Is an eternity of blessed ones, And yet one phantom only, but one moment, One instant flash of lightning from the cloud Of this vast universe, that endlessly Through the great night of time goes sailing by, As an eternal tempest, fructifying, And rains down blessed beings numberless This unexhausted, inexhaustible Creation, this “eternal rain of beings,” Is what thou blindly scornest, hatest, cursest, When thou revilest Tranisitoriness. But, exiled from all beauty, hast thou given A dumb assent to the eternal life,… 334

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THE TRANSITOR Y. Consented that the fathers should be dead, Then hast thou murdered thy own mother, all Thy children and thy wife, in spirit - ah! A heavy blood-guilt lies upon thy soul… If they are killed: not-merely passed away! Thou hadst a part in murdering the whole world, If it has passed away -not, rather, come Yet hast thou part in the eternal Maker, By simply willing: that the world shall come! That all thy loves shall have already come! View not the present as a dying man, Look not upon the future as a wreck, As private judgment-day in every garden For that scares all good spirits away from thee, As frighted swallows whirr around the house Where they had built their nests, when now the flames Of its fierce burning roar on every side It lames the hand for work, cripples the foot; Thou’rt like the snail that with misgiving eye Has just touched poison, suddenly draws it back B3urning, crawls back into her house and dies. The world was over on creation-day, Life absolutely never had begun, Had not the very stars been doomed to fade. tlan would not even have been possible But for the law of transitoriness! Thou hadst not come, had not thy fathers gone! Thy children never could have come, if thou: The boy; thy wife: the maiden; if ye both, Ye two fair children, had not passed away!

The cloud had not come floating in, had not 335

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THE U70RLD-PRIEST. Its purpose been to scatter rain - to die; The sun had not arisen, had he not willed To journey through the heavens and set,- had not His purpfiose been to be the sun. Oh see: What makes man rich is transitoriness! That constitutes him heir of all the earth, Heir of all generations that have been; By it alone his eye surveys old times, By it his mind lives as a lofty sun. The going of things is life and coming life, It gives man every thing that makes him man, Each feeling of the heart, each smile, each tear! And, after joy, still, to complete his bliss, The holy, yearning wail for the divine! And nothing hast thou, nothing canst thou gain, But for the blessed crowding out of all things!

No hyacinth would bloom for thee without Transfiguration of the mother-bulb! Never a second sweet word wouldst thou hear Fall from thy darling’s lips, wouldst never hear A song, did not the first sound die away! Thou wouldst be lying now a cradled child, Had not the heavenly powers transmuted thee. Thus does man owe, yea God Himself, his life To that blest transformation, among men Called - perishableness - with God: Creation. So must then, that one violet may bloom, The whole world pass away, and yet again, And so forever. For one mother’s life Among her children, all the flowers and stars Must die. Al pfiriests and kings would, on their knees, 336

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JLE TRA.NASITOR Y. In vain imiblore the sr-ing. to stzy away! In vain iniilore tge nizV//.. not to be gone/ In vain implore the maiden not to ripen To full young-womanhood. - The Transitory Is then life’s coming!

being! life itself! Because the sharers of life’s boon with thee All pass away and all things swiftly pass, The clouds, the sunbeams, flowers and men, is that A reason for respecting them no more? Oh nothing is more sinful, blasphemous, Than to cast scorn upon the Transitory, Which even Omnipotence itself could thus.. Could only by rotation bring to life, 7ust as a zotlier brings her children forth. The highest value has the Transitory, The value of the priceless, the unique, That which no eye will ever see again! ‘Twere better, thou shouldst at a poor man’s feet Fall down as to the image of a God, Than to pass by him with the careless word A hundred years-thy hunger will be gone! Or say to thy still friend: “

Whly love I thee’ In thirty years thou wilt be quite forgot! Is not, to thee, the fleeting beyond price, Thy working, striving, living are in vain, Then God Himself creates, strives, lives in vain, Then all His past creating has been vain Then is His living vain for evermore. But see the Transitory does exist! It lives, it loves, it is ineffably fair! 337 I5 v

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. The living manifests the entire God With all His skill and might and mtnajesty. And wilt thou not see God creating now? See God in all things, see His loveliness And love, His beauty and His tenderness, Then not the least of things shall die to thee, Then shalt thou see ungrieved the Transitory, Shalt even look on it with highest joy Then thou canst love it, not do otherwise, Thou knowest who it is, who now it is, And will be never more, strange human heart! Let not the heavenly apparition be A stranger to thee longer, for thou art The self-same afiarition, thou thyself. Behold the smile a lovely mother beams Upon her child, as blessed as the child! Let a fair eye delight thee, a true word As much as God; He had not formed it else, He had not spoken it. Oh thus enjoy Thy love for all the human myriads, For all the living and for all the dead! Thou know’st them still! Thou knowest still their works; Keep all in thy remembrance, all their life, So builtest thou a heavenly kinigdom in thee, Which none can e’er fossess, but thou alone; Think above all upon thy life itself, Which none else will remember but thyself, Which none shall ever live but thou; not even The ever-new soul of the universe, The holy Pilgrim through the endless times! 338

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THE ROSE FOR ALL. THE ROSE FOR ALL. D ESPITE all heavens, despite all Paradises, In spite of a new world and heavenly city, Wherein the tribes of man shall live, they say, One day as blessed spirits; in despite Of that, nay by it is this life on earth Surely and veritably done and gone For man forever, evermore, at death. The soft fair flesh, the lovely form he wore, As child, is in the deep abyss of time Forever swallowed: all his suns, his loves, Before him, with him, all for evermore Went down, went out, expired and were lost In hoary, raven-white eternity. Thou, too, thyself, thy wife, your children all, .4s once thou sawest, embraced and kissed them here, As once they led thee here with pious hand, And lisped their pretty prattlings in thy ear, Smiled on thee and danced round thee with delight… Thou wilt thyself, and they themselves will all Forever, ever, down the deep abyss Of time be plunged and utterly buried there, Thrown in with sun-dust of ten billion suns, A heap of rubbish daily, yearly higher, 339

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THE WORLD-PfIEST. Deep under hills, yea mountains, buried up, Of’dry and withered flowers, from all the springs, Which sweeping on, on, from still distances, Still coming forth out of the grave of earth, As gayly-decorated spectres here Still for their moment hold a fleeting sway, Till they too, as the grave-dust of the dead, Down the abyss are swept, and sealed up fast By Death, who sees none but life-weary ones, Of all their beauty silently bereft, Yet, undeluded, holds a tranquil reign. And canst thou his calm mood with ease attain, Thence an old word of truth shall come to thee WVith every human eye expires the sun That lighted it.

To every man, and him Alone, is his own beating heart the cithern On which the world played its old song to him, Forever one, oozce new to every child Old, just expiring, in the ear of age Inaudible, extinct, dumb, to the dead. To them the sun, the great world clock, is still To them the dlay, the moment, is no more, Far less to them is the whole after-world Than even an Orcus; and more shadowy. Eternity unto the dead is not One hour’s duration. O’er all possible Sublimest Gods are they exalted high They have forever done with this child’s-dream - Thy loves miss thee no more, far less will miss The universe forever. Let thy love 340

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THE ROSE FOR ALL. For them, on their account, have deep repose. And that thou must henceforth forever miss Their lovely form, the cheek, the eye, the hair, And the sweet voice -‘tis only tlzy delusion, Thy dream, projecting thy short human days To a long shadow stretched across the heaven As by the magic of the evening sun. T[e dead are zolier, ineffably, Thzan any livig7 mani can e’er conceive, Because the flame of his life dazzles him. Vast as the universe appears, although JI seems immeasurable, it is as small As any being, and of single ones Consists, as does the poppy-head of grains; Endless it seems, yet always has an end, It dies with every being, it is dead. Thus is it pure and innocent as a child, And lovely as a rose - I say a rose! 34I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE RETURN OF ALL THINGS. HE thought: God only lives!

will let thee wish T Z For the return of all things nevermore Such wish degrades Him to a puppet-player, His holy world to a great barrel-organ; Whereas He lives forever new, and great In His eternal shows majestical, In all of which His Spirit only lives. A new existence; a new universe Oh never, never sure, were therefirst things, And never therefore can there be last things, And then a final rest, a death of God, As if He were worn out and tired of life, Old, like an old man, yearning for the grave! And if the universe were constantly Chewing * the dead over and over again, If all things had been destined to return, Then would they oft already have returned, Then must they surely have a secret thought: “To have come back.” But now zf living men Have no such thought, then surely never yet Have they come back, if e’er they should return! True, the return of all things seems so blest, * Symbolized by the sacred ox of the Jews and Egyptians. 342

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THE RETURN OF ALL THINGS. 343 So just, so satisfying to the heart; It seems a recompense for each short life, Which shall hereafter be an endless one But each for others only prizes it; Scarcely would one live o’er again the life He once has lived; toil through again the toil Already toiled through, worry through again The worry all life long he worried through; His whole life must forever fass away Again, as it has once already passedUnless one beauteous moment of it were Turned into stone, and he should be the stone! Who then would drink twice over the same wine?

To have the self-same feeling twice would be Impossible, were man not man again,And then what would he have, but what he had? ‘Tis the divinest thing to be forever Uniqute; thou wondrous, nobly loving man, Thou art the only husband to thy wife Forever! Be such to her, with true love Thou to thy children art for evermore Their only father! Be thou such to them, The heavenly near them in a human form! They are thy only children too, forever. Thy wife forever is thy only wife; Oh then respect her as the heavenly one, Purely, for her love is the eternal love!

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3THE WORLD-PRIEST. AGAPE,* NOT “LOVE.” O NLY what man can do, the wise require That he shall thoughtfully and freely do. What he iiiust do, does eagerly of himself From childhood up: eat, drink, sleep, walk and talk Only a fool prescribes for him to do. Who ever made a law: that little girls Should go forth in the spring to gather flowers; That boys should play at ball twice in the year: On the green earth, and when the leaves fall off? So no one ever was the fool to say: “The marriageable youth shall take to wife The marriageable maid, on pain of death, And then shall they provide for little ones! For all the birds would have laughed right out loud At such a prophet, asses would for once Have really spoken, all the beasts of the wood, The blossoms on the trees and fishes all Would have had speech given them to hoot at him. And if none wisely e’er commanded that, 0 men, so too has none enjoined on you To love. Tlzat, that you have with rapturous bliss Been doing since man’s life on earth began. *Paul’s Greek word, rendered clA,rity.-T. 344

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A GAPE,‘O0T “LOVE.” So blind, irrational, none ever was, But would have been the more, the more he held Himself to be a God or even God. Yet a reflection of the only true And blessed love, the love of man for wife, And wife for husband, and the love they both Feel for their children and for them alone, The warm and kindly shadow of this love To shed on all men, saint and sage required Of heathen people in the olden time, Ere Moses came; in his day, and like him And no one after him could e’er ask more, And no one ever did ask more than this: “Wish well to all; do good to all around thee.” And fully would this word meet all men’s wants, If truly and with zeal obeyed by all; It furnishes a holy work to men All everywhere through all the days of life, It makes all friends, yea step-brothers and sisters Of myriad mothers, yet one Father only, The Spirit of Life; comforts the miserable, Gives courage to the faint, zeal to the slow, Gives brothers to the lonely and forlorn - ‘Tis the reflection of the blessed love, That yearns to share with others all its wealth IS* 345

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE SWEETNESS OF LIFE. pROPHETS, and even no despicable ones, Stretched out the staff and woke the dead to life, Trembling embraced them then and kissed their lips; Yea, men of old woke even those who “stank,” And with loud voice bade them from out the grave “Come forth!” Rather than let them yet depart To heaven, they granted them a few more days Of the sweet life of earth, though at the price, The terrible price of having twice to die! I never saw the dying weep for joy To think of dying. Only wretched men Who in their anguish cried aloud for death, And would have given the axe into my hand That I might, guiltless, kindly take their lifeThem have I seen! and have heard others sigh: ” Ah! ah! how would I weep, if weep I could! But all the tears I had to shed are gone.”

Yet others have I seen lying on graves, And when I softly asked, I learned that they Desired not to go to those they loved, But only have thzemn back -from heaven itself! The best of men begged that the cup of death Might pass from them, if it were possible! 346

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THE SWEETNESS OF LIFE. So sweet it is to the eternal spirit As man on earth to live: love and be loved; For nowhere has he more, or lives he better. So the most loving and the best all wish To dwell in endless union with their loves; To let the whole wide world all pass away And rest within their arms, if only’twere To slumber calmly with them in one grave, Forgot by all the coming sons of men. 347

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THE WOPRLD-PRIEST. THE PAST. THERE are no dead: and so there is no Past.

How could the Past have a reality, Since only of past things it could be made, And past things are things perished, are no more, And can make nothing, therefore not a Past? And so the stars in an eternity Have many times over bloomed their last in heaven, In their great spring-times, as the flowers on earth Have, in their little spring-times here below. Yet, budding, blooming, so they lived, and when Past blooming, softly closed a rounded life; Only so long as they were, was their heaven; Earth lasts, for every flower, only so long As it lasts, then they die to one another; And if one mourned, it should be Earth alone No eyes have the dead flowers to weep their doom, No tongues to murmur at their destiny: The thousand blossom-leaves that sank to earth, The many thousand withered roses all, The Mayflowers and the spikes of lavender, There is no mighty urn, where these are all Kept, to perfume the mansion of the gods; The many hundred thousand rainbows all, 348

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THE PAIST. The lightning-snakes from all the thunder-clouds, There’s no old rubbish-chamber holds them all Collected! Having once been born of force, Struck out therefrom like spark from flint and steel… They straightway melted back to force again, As winter snow into spring water melts And skyey perfume.- Life is but a show - Joy, evanescent as a falling star; No joy can be detained and treasured up, Not even the taste of honey on the tongue, The diamond-glistering of a drop of dew, No, not a gleam of sunlight in the eye, Still less a feeling, even a thrill of bliss Beauty is good but for its little hour, That man may still be free for something new, Open to new delight and to new life For there is Oize, to whom it is a show 7’hle S-iifii ini the s/ill eernial Now. The awful sense of our eternity Comes from the transitoriness of things. What we have once possessed is past, not lost Not lost, but won! The past eternity It was, that gave the soul the bliss of love, And it will still give bliss that knows no end. None mourns the dread, unnumbered host of dead VWho lie in the old world’s vast sepulchre: There nowhere lives aught that could mourn for them; The eyes fell from their sockets ages gone, As from their dry shells fall the hazel-nuts Their hearts are ashes, and their bones are dust. 349

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.THE WORLD-PRIEST. So there is no one lost to any one! The present generation but bewails, As the grave-digger of the perishing, Its love alone-in pity to itself! The Past is all onze great sarco,Ahag-‘s Vast as the universe - but look therein, ‘Tis eOfty! empty all! no dead is there!

Not one-not even a dead violet, v’ot of one little rose the skeleton The great sarcophagus, it swarms with life, Its rustling fans thee with spring-fragrances, And myriads of flowers bloom out of it, And young birds flutter up in myriads Through all the heavens and warble in the clouds; The sun himself comes gleaming up from it, The stars emerge from out its depths and shine!Just as to-day there is no future, nor Will ever be a future, never aught But a perpetual Present -nay, a LifeSo was there never a Past, nor ever will be A Past, but only an Eternal Life. If all past life, all that was lived and loved, All that was e’er enjoyed, weas notzing-then, Then has the great, immense, primeval world, The long eternity that, age on age, Before our earth, flashed life, been nothing too, Void! Dust and ashes! God were then a dream, A non-essential being-a mere name!Nay, but God lived! And that we can ourselves So much as dream the Past, is proof to us: 350

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THE PAST. We live! and now the universe is ours! All isfor all, to every spark of mind Each feeling now belongs, and every thought, Every delight belongs, and every tear! The things that pass, they can be only gained; The Past is gained, it never can be lost; Else through one long eternity till now Has God Himself been useless - must be still Useless for an eternity to come, For all that is to come shall pass away And be as still as the dead Death himself. 35x

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THE WORLD-PtIIEST. CONTEMPT OF THE WORLD. D ES P I S E Mie world? - Cease that! ye pious souls, Nor yet encourage any man thereto, Calling it dismal and detestable! You scorn the spirit that lives and dwells therein, Created and conceived it, as you say. Fling not away this life, as if, forsooth, Not worth the living! So, to your own hands You spoil it, so you F/lake it horrible You scorn yourselves, wvretchedly spite yourselves For the contemptuous has within his heart A root of bitterness; the despising soul Grows to be utterly despised itself, Bitterly wretched, neighbor to the wish “Ohl would there were no God! hlad never been! Or at the very least that God would die! That so this bloody, shameful work of his, Full of corruption, woe and death, might vanish To endless night, into its well-earned grave, WVith all the spirits it ever made to groan! Far sooner hide, as men do before kings, As much as possible, earth’s wretched ways Banish the poor; say, ” Things go charmingly! \Ve are content and happy to belong 352

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CONTEMPT OF THE WORLD, 353 To such a land and its wise counsellors!” Root out the evils that exasperate Your secret souls; and setyourselves to work Wiith thozghtfuil hearts to make yourselves content! Not, every day, more and more malcontent! Even in the pit, there needs must be a place Where it is not so hot. The sick man finds At last one posture that is tolerable, And whimpers an approval. The abyss No longer seems so frightful, when one toils In earnest day and night to fill it up, Though vainly. Welcome the necessity, Daily returning, hard necessity, Which brings each day a new access of toil, And a new load of care -and all for naught. Illusion is itself worth more than wealth. As clean and beautiful as is your life, In calm composure and tranquillity, So clean and beautiful, yea sweet and dear Will life itself, at last, appear to you For only asyouz live, so is the world, No better and no worse, but just so good. Masters are you not of the stubborn world, But masters of your own life certainly; Even of your death indisputably so. Hear now one word from the deep human breast: The spirit demands not even thanks from you, For your existence or its own-if that In aught oppress you. But beye too, sfiirit. Reflect: that which within you hates - contemns w

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. MIust be itself a great and holy thing, Nobler than all the starry firmament, And all the entire universe brings forth; And now, that spirit you yourselves must be, And therefore must you bear within yourselves The purest, highest, miost desirable, If only as a feeling-as a thought. As then you cannot hate your very selves, Desfise yourselves and wish annihilationUnless the great Supreme Himself shall be Naught else than hateful and detestable; You cannot wish death to this universe, Wherein the great Supreme Intelligence lives, Because you also have yourselves your hfe From the great Spirit of the universe. And if you love a beauteous living thing, Your love will wish for it not only life, But all this beauteous universe beside You praise this world that it contains for you, This beautiful, this one beloved thing! And if this unique treasure should be lost, This beauty snatched away and swept from sight, Yea, were it irrecoverably gone, Forever lost to you, itself and allNot yet, for that, can you despise this world Because it once contained that beauteous thing! And if you weep and mourn, yea even despair, You prize it more than ever more than all, And idolize a transitory thing As if it were the saving of your love, 354

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CONTEMPT OF THE WORLD. Instead of seeing now for the first time, And rapturously rejoicing in the thought, That the salvation was your very love. Tell me no more how you despise the world. He who despises, ne’er despised himself, He clasps himself with adamantine chains, With the sweet bonds of his own blessedness. 355

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE GLEANING OF LIFE. W HO prizes at their worth the precious days Of inward fellowship with those he loves Who bears within his heart, at every hour, A full and perfect sense, how rich is life!

Who,‘midst his dear ones, charges every word With all the unutterable wealth of love;Puts his whole soul into each smallest work? No living man!

No lover constantly! Who is not by the moment borne away, Who is not dazzled by the passing hour? For whom does not the merest speck of cloud Fling a cool shadow o’er the sun in heaven!A4 nd what uial man, for all the glow of love, For lzfe’s glad sunshine, set himzself to do! Shall he all day be staring at the sun? All night long fold his hands before the stars? Shall he hold fast in one eternal clasp His loved ones to his heart? Or with his lips Repeat “Oh how I love thee!” all day long? Does not thy presence tell them day by day That story? does not the unswerving eye That watches for their weal from morn to night? Does not thy smile say that to them, whene’er 356

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THE GLEANING OF LIFE. Thou meetest them? Does not their silent nod Say it to thee, whene’er they come, or when Thou goest? Does not all their care for thee, The pains they take, their toil in thy behalf, Assure thee first, in speech transcending words: Oh how I love thee! ” It is life that first Gives to the heart assurance of our love, Announces and divinely utters it, As even the all-present Spirit speaks to men Through flowers and glow of sun and balmy sleep!And so, in silence, imperceptibly The holy days glide from beneath our hands; Ni,ghts with the calm effulgence of their moons Glimmer and fade: that we may greatly live And love, in the great sense of the divine, In conscious being’s calm security, A feeling which no word could ever speak, Only a thousand deeds could e’er express, Yet not exhaust in many thousand days! So comes, with lingering snail-pace creeping on, The end of our most sweet companionship Our living and our striving side by side Are ended - not the influence; endeth not Thy loving. Yet doth end thy beinzg loved! And with it ends for thee the joy of life. To lose the love of those we love - ah! that Is to us mortal mzen the half of death! One thing alone remains-but that is sure: From the whole life of those thou lovedst, let The breath of love be wafted o’er thy soul; 357

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THE’ORLD-PRIEST. Fee] in its touch the living breeze of heaven! And what they severally were… this day And that, this autumn and the other spring, In the bright morning and the moonlit nights… All that they ever said and did to thee, All that they were to thee ten thousand times, In the entrancing charms of sense and soulThzatga//er with tliy heart’s whole energy From their completed, culminating life Let it draw near and stand before thy eyes As the now visible and total man; The one, unique, and verily divine; And as the unutterably gracious spirit Of heaven, enshrine that presence in thy heart, Till thou for rapture tremblest even to tears Of awe and gratitude and holy dread - So shall the love wherewith thou once wast loved Waft thee its fragrance, as the breath of flowers Follows the seaman from a blooming coast. 358

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LOVE AND THE WVORLD. LOVE AND THE WORLD. WHAT is, believe thou that… but the world is, Clear, palpable to all, raised far above “I pray, believe me! “- Soul and world belong To one another, just as man and wife: Men, and all things that live, their children are. 0 Love, without the world, what wert thou! far More wretched than the world were with no Love. What were a light in a dark waste of death, Shining on naught but black and horrid nightAll the more dismal, were that light the sun! What were the human eye, if men were not! What were a human heart without a world All the more dismal, were’t the heart of God! And what were Love without a child to love, Without a husband, and without a wife - All the more dismal, were’t the Love of God Nay, with the world, is man himself divine, And soul itself without the world, a dream. So is the world eternal as its soul; And if the world were a created thing Upon the second day of God’s first being The world had come too late, been made too late For joy unmeasured in the infinite Ethereal all, the house of blessedness, 359

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THE WO~LD-PRIEEST. The stork’s nest and the laboratory of Love, Which cannot live without somewhat to love, More than the sun, without a blade of grass, An eye, to shine upon and shine into. Were there no world, there were no clasp of hands, No mutual glance of soul from eye to eye, Oh heaven! no language, not a word of love, No sigh of joy or sorrow, no embrace, No seeing, no reunion’s glad surprise, Oh heaven! no song, no rapture of the heart Felt by the mother at the child’s first cry, Oh heaven! no beauty! -‘Tis all over now, And all these mourners for the world would say: We envy not a soul its solitude, We would not, at the price of a lost world, Be God-as God Himself would not so wish To be, is not and never was, nor yet Will ever be through all eternity, Alone with all His consciousness of power. The artists all are weeping bitter tears; None longer cares to live; no singer will, With no breast-full of air to swell his tones No poet will, with none to hear his song, No painter will, when canvas there is none, Not even a coal to trace his beauteous forms; And men themselves-no soul of them will live Without the artists, ay, those sons of God, Who beauteously transfigure all their life, Who lay it as a child upon their breast, As a beloved heart, a beautiful Great heart all full of rapture-ah, their own 36o

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LOVE A4.OD THE WORLD. Heart, their own being, made divinely fair. No maid is beauteous now-no man is brave, No more shall this sweet life be sacrificed To mercy, there is, no more, noble death! There is no more a good deed to be done, No tear-drop glistening in a grateful eye, No child henceforth can give a crust of bread To feed the hungry; no industrious hand Stirs any longer; all delight is goneNay, never has begun! all love is fled Nay, never into any breast has flown!” - The soul, the man, will through these thoughts at last Come to a clear conception of the truth Incarnate in the Eternal. To what end Were life, and why the tribes of living ones, If the mere dreamz of spirit were enough Of life, if life itself did not begin In feeling of the fulness of the world, As the first actual, wakeful, livin,,, thought! In all things thou beholdest, there the Eternal Has its first resurrect/ion! bodily In any single hand all hands exist, In that onze woman do all women live, In that onze rose, all roses.

If the good, If love, joy, beauty, in the conscious man Have not their dwelling-place, if he does not The good, if he loves not the beautiful, Then is it nowhere - sleeps the sleep of death. -But lo! the world is, and it stays -it stays, Eternal as the Spirit and as Love; i6 36I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. The holy beaker of this universe Needs lips to quaff its nectar, yea, it needs A bosom to enrapture with its bliss. Man’s beauteous body, the world’s body, is Divinely needful, is the Spirit’s wife; For without body soul is null -is naught, A dead-man’s-eye, a struggler in the grave. This very earth supplies a good man more Than heaven itself can ever yield to him; The joy a mother feels, whose only child Sits upright in his coffin raised to life, Even that,- and thousands dearer to the heart, Heaven never had! can never give to mnan! The universe can show no miracle Like to a beauteous mother in her shroud; A God himself were not more wonderful. Such grace, such majesty she never wore! Dead suns could never be so beautiful As are her eyes! Not all the tongues of spirits So thrill with eloquence as her dumi izs! The stir of life through all the concave heaven Moves not to tears like the repose of her Unbreathing bosom; the Almighty hand Is not so mighty as her still, dead hand! To see our dearest longings, all our hopes, And all our happiness lie cold and dead There with our loved ones, nay, to have to die, Ourselves, upon our love, - ah, that-ay that Transcends, heaven-high, the reach of all the Gods! That thrill, the Holiest in heaven, Himself, Can never feel; for there no death can part 362

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L O E ANIVD THE WORLD. The living from their loved ones; there no grave Opens its black abyss to swallow up The silent dead. Such miracles can come To mortals only, honored above Gods By sorrow’s shafts-who needed all the strength Of Gods-yet have no help but silent tears. The fulness of the world fills full man’s heart. And reckonest thou then tzis for naught - for naught That they who love each other on this earth See one another! meet again! Oh then Such bliss is theirs, as when one buried blind, Rising with unscaled eyes, for the first time LIooks out upon the glory of the heavens. Oh what a joy, to look on living men! To see them in the beauteous world as Gods, In beauty, youthful prime and grace and love; To see them in this hurly, this old grave Of earth, like works by holy magic wrought! That is as much, as if tle universe Itself sprang into beinX /. That, ay that Is the inalienable blessedness, Which peacefully has reckoned in advance With death, with that fixed doom: to die again; Which richly for the parting has prepared, And nevermore believes in any loss. Oh a divinely unique thing is man Upon this earth; as there, to-day and here, He lives, the universe has not, till now, So had him, heaven has never had him yet! And earth will never have him so again. 363

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. WISDOM. T HOU wilt not certainly call wise the fire, That falls upon thy hand and burns it up? Thou wilt not call the water wise, that falls Wolf-like upon the fire and quenches it: The wind -but wilt thou haply call that wise, Which drives the clouds and piles the waters up, That sweep one lucky mariner to port, And dig that otlier wretched one a grave? Wilt thou call wise the war of elements, Where every force, following its nature’s law, Assails the others, conquers now, now yields, And now concludes with it a bond of peace, When it brings forth a third, a son to itself, Who fights again, in turn, with other sons, Fiercely assails them, conquers now, now yields, And now concludes with them a bond of peace, When it brings forth a daughter, child of all. All these according to their natures, each, Bestir themselves. They are themselves, none else; Are aboriginal. No one’s thought or will Has given them being, bowed them to the yoke Of any work, of any other task Than they pursue. An immemorial thing 364

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WISDOM. Is force, all force. Before it nothing was, No thought was there, nor even yet a will! For will proceeds from force - the lightning flash Of force, and force is not a dream of will. Whence now to wisdom could there come aforce? Foreknowledge it would be, ere aught existed To know, the hollow spectre of itself. But Wisdom is: the ordering to an end Of a material ready to its hand. So from the forces flashes like a light Wisdom before man’s eyes: in its own way, Wisdom to order and to guide his life.

It is not the beginning of the world, Wisdom’s the end for which the world is made, It is the spirit of life, and life itself. And as mankind have seated Paradise At the world’s entrance, so have they transposed Wisdom far back into a chaos, which Never existed. For before all things Was no thing, not a thought, nor even a dream! Wisdom is in the world: to know the world And by it faithfully to guide our life, So that the fool may not be crushed by Force. The only folly is to disobey, The labor-wasting, hard and hopeless fight With every force and its established nature, To which, unwillingly or willingly, All things must bow; the willing blessedly, The stubborn and rebellious, bruised and crushed - A doom befitting the self-blinded fool 365

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. Who will not see: Spirit is the breath of Force, That He is both the spirit and mind of Force, The light that flashes from the thunder-cloud.” - - So counsel they holy obedience, The spirits, who do not misplace the SPIRIT Back of the world, but wholly inz the world. And thou-strive not for what is wholly vain And useless. Thou art not a single inch The greater, more immortal by a day, Scarce nobler-whether as the sfirit’s work Or as the spirit of the Spirit itself; Still thy descent -thy nature - is divine. Then exercise unwavering obedience To the great Force that sweeps through all the world, Which must at last make all like to itself, Blest like itself-who willingly fulfil Its own sweet law.

“Divinely live!” Thus thou Createst wisdom, and thyself a man. 366

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BEAUTY. BEAUTY. BEAUTY, soft splendor and the pomp of hues Flow silently around the life of man, As round the bather flows a silver sea; And even the terrible and monstrous thing Within this heaven of beauty finds its place. ‘Tis made a wonder by its wond(frous pilace! And lovely things ineffably more fair! So cosily the Spirit made his world, His place of sojourn in the house of earth. Not merely for an answering love Love yearned, Not from blind beggars does she ask for alms! Nor as blind beggar will take alms herselfIn her unmeasured bliss Love still would be ILoved and admired by the beautiful, Will in the Beautiful admire herself! The heavenly nectar of the gods she fain Would drink from heavenly vessels, and would feed The fire upon her hearth with ambergris, From fairer, sweeter than rose-chalices Would drink the strange-familiar magic tones From precious stones more brilliant than Turquoises, Would see the strange-familiar fire gleam out. And that she may not, on this opaque earth, 367

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THE f’ORLD-PRIES T. Wander in disappointment, joylessly, Her jewel  even the magic light of heaven She brings with her - within her-to the earth, Which by the power and splendor of its own Iiitri’nsic beauty, gives to every form, The human form, the form of every flower, To shine transfigured in her sight and wear A golden lustre, and for each creates, Once in this niggard life, a heaven on earth, When, in his blooming-time, entranced with bliss!And though the magic light then fade away, The form once touched is sacred evermore. So on a golden eventide embarks A bridegroom with his young and blooming bride, For a long sail; and though dark night comes clown On bark and sea and on the beauteous bride, Still murmur on through the dark space of night The gentle accents of the invisible one, And still he loves, adores her as before, Nay more and more, in the sweet dusk of night!Love will not, even in the dark, expire… Nor sink into the pit and charnel-house, By night beleaguered at the very door, With a cold shudder shrinking from the host Of shadowy horrors that assail the soul From out the stark, black distance looming forthOnce more her magic light flames up for her, And with a golden glow illumes the pit, And makes it beautiful with lustrous gems, Like an enchanted grotto on whose walls 368

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BE,4 UTY. The flaming splendors of the evening sun Shed an unutterable loveliness. So long for each her light sheds friendly glow, Like to an ever-burning lamp’s mild gleam, On all the day of life. In spring it flashes Ten thousand variegated sparks; in autumn, A hundred thousand. He who drives his plough At early morn beholds it overhead Mlove through the heavens, a blazing ball of fire; Yea, he who draws up water from the well, Sees it glance up from mirrored heavens below, And from the flowers that deck the fountain’s marge; And when the weary traveller in the woods Stretches his limbs upon the grass, the pines Bloom like a thousand roses o’er his head And through the twigs the heavenly glory breaks, - What beauty, splendor soft and pomp of hues, Flow silently around the life of man, As round a bather flow the silver-waves! Each period of the world still blooms on earth, Blooms in the young man and the old alike; They all alike still through each period Keep journeying on, but with the speed of gods They move through life, and tarry long in none, As races once did through long centuries. Still ever born in the old Paradise, All children sweetly live as live the flowers, And those that die therein have never known The bitter taste of guilt or grief or death. But they who young, as pilgrims, wander forth i6* x 369

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THE H’ORLD-PRPIEST. Into earth’s realm, feel themselves exiles there, And each one day weeps for his youth again; An inexpressible, old primeval bliss Seems to him gone forever - and yet, lo! One day for the first time’twill come to him. He looks upon the blooming maid, and lo! The young world of the elders, in its first Unwithered beauty, blooms around him there! The sweet face is a miracle, and so The noble brow; two eyes that beam with soul To him are sister-suns, yea more than stars Two rosy lips bring tears into his eyes Brushed by her arm, touched by a finger-tip, He trembles; and to see the snow-white neck And the chaste bosom thrills his being throu,h; The entire blooming figure, from the crown Even to the toe, none other than a God Could e’er have fashioned it so beautiful…. Nay she herself is all Divinity, Clear and complete, incarnated, revealed, Brought near in bodily presence, yea arrived From farthest heavenly spaces, and now here! From all the depths of distant ages, here And even her foot-print on the violet-turf Is holy, and his lips will kiss the flowers On which she walked. Glorious, ecstatic life, A wealth and preciousness ineffable, That is the joy of beings and of God… One soul inspires the majestic whole… And in that soul there glows the fire of love… 370

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BEA UTY. And love enshrines a living purity. So too he sees! For from the chrysalis Of the ancients hath sprung forth a noble spirit, A new and Godlike man has risen up WIho can be that himself, shall live that life, Which they had hardly worshipped in their Gods. 37I

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THE WORLD-PRIEST. THE PEOPLE. THAT much berated tribe- “the common folk “

How hearty is their life, and how divine Their sense of being! None can praise enough Their equanimity and dignity; Full are they of the very highest worth, Such as the human race, in its whole range, Can ne’er out-bid. Were it not devilish now, If these poor heavenly children should at last Be doomed to forfeiture of life’s best goods If in their spirit they were not the strong, In heart the truest and the tenderest; Should miss the wealth the future has in store, The highest human knowledge, human power: To be a man! Then there could be no men, Not one so much as tolerable man, Living life nobly-not, enduring it! For every morn makes yesterday a night, And knowledge is a never closed abyss. Yet with the day the people’s life must run, Must struggle on to meet the eventide, The harvest and the autumn, step by step Still marching to the sun’s fixed ordinance, For they wait not to hear the morning’s news, 372

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THE PEOPLE. Nor for the gift the coming day may bring! They look not forward to a future day When they will eat their slow-earned stores; they live From hand to mouth; and in their children’s mouths Put the last solitary bit of bread; Give the last effort of the weary hand \Vith gladness to the very nearest work A wife’s or even a lambkin’s need may ask; And in their little house administer In just as Godlike style, as if it were God’s house and they the stewards of all wealth!The heart of man is, in all ages, one. And never through its lifetime does it ask More mind, love, living energy; it seeks Only to manifest itself. It says “Thou art as noble as the first man was; Thou’rt worth as much as the last man shall be. Each mortal is the first and the last man, In his own style, his life, and look on life Thou also art the first and the last man To thine own self! Thou to thy children art First and last father. And thy wife no less First and last mother to her children, too. Ye are their first - last parents, both of you. So holy are ye, each a sacred self.” Cambridge: Press of John Wilson and Son. 373

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MESS88R8. ROBERT8 BROTHER8’ PUBLICATION8. THE LAYMAN’S BREVIARY; ODr, feitationz for (Ebrg Dau in the 1ear. FROM THE GERMAN OF LEOPOLD SCHEFER.

BY C. T. BROOKS. Square i6mo. Cloth, gilt, bevelled boards. Price $2.00.

Cheaper edition. I6mo. Cloth. Price $I.50. Franzo the Christian Register.

i’ The volume, which is a beautiful specimen of typography, and enriched with a portrait of its author, consists of a series of poetical meditations for every day in the year, characterized by great simplicity and directness of thouglht, considerable knowvledge of life, a high and pure aim, and much beauty of expression. Many of the pieces are perfect gems, and the volume will be highly prized by thoughltful and cultivated readers. We know no book of its class to which stronger praise can be awarded than will be bestowed on this by such persons, as there is none which we have read with more satisfaction and profit, or which is more likely to furnish wholesome food for thought to every reader.” From the N.

Y. Times. “Schefer unites the deepest worship of the works of nature -as the creations of God -with the broadest human sympathies, and colors his poetical meditations with profuse wealth of Oriental imagery. The plan in which they are arrangeda separate meditation for every day in the year -in no way fetters the freedom of his fancy, although’the changing seasons of the year I gave an undertone to the strain of his poetry. It is not a work to skim through and throw aside: many of lwhat at first glance might seem fugitive pieces are deeply suggestive. It would be difficult to find a work for presentation of more solid worth. We must not omit a word or two as to the general appearance of the book. It is beautifully and substantially bound, while the exquisite clearness of the type and the delicate tone of the paper are in perfect harmony with the beauty of the thoughts embodied in thlem.” Sold everywhere. Mailed, postpaid, by the Publishers, ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON. It

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MES8RS. ROBERTS BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. “Next to a friend’s discourse, no morsel is more delicious than a ripe’ book,’ -a book whose flavor is as refreshing at the thousandth tasting as at the first. Books, when friends weary, conversation flags, or nature fails to inspire, -the best books, -appeal to the deepest in us and answer the demand.”-Froma A. Bronson A lcott’s “Concord Days,” in ress by Roberts Brothers. ” It is a love story compact of the richness and sweetness and sunshine of Provence.” MIREIO. A Provenqa1 Poem. By FREDERIC MISTRAL. Translated by Miss H. W. PRESTON. One elegant red-line volume. Price $2.00. W. D. Howells, Esq., an author to be envied, and a very cautious critic, discourses lovingly of “Mireio” in the July ” Atlantic.” He says: “If any reader of ours is at a loss what to read on the loveliest day in summer, let us counsel him to read’Mireio.’

He will be a little sad at the tragical end, but hiis heart will have been moved by the finest art, and his senses filled with the freshest pictures and with delicious music…. His poem is full oflttle delights, -birds chirping in covert, sun shining, flowers sweetly blowing, - while the greater song flows on, which the quotation of no single passage can reveal. It is, in a word, charming.” HAPPY-THOUGHT HALL. By F. C. BURNAND, author of “Happy Thoughts,” “More Happy Thoughts,” ” Out of Town.” With one hundred Illustrations by the author. One handsome volume Price$2.00.

“Mr Burnand is a capital companion for a showery day in the rural districts, or for long jaunts by rail, to be enjoyed in snatches between the stations, or in the intervals when the rain drives you within doors.”

- N.Y. Evening Post. A Novel by Six Distinguished Authors. MIRS. HARRIET

BEECHER STOWE, MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY, Miss LUCRETIA HALE, F. W. LORING, F.

B. PERKINS, E. E. HALE-‘S JOINT AUTHORSHIP, EVERY-DAY NOVEL. SIX OF ONE BY

HALF-A-DOZEN OF THE OTHER. One volume. i6mo. Price $I1.5o. THE

HALF-DOZEN’S NOVEL. “Of course it was Mr. Hale. It is he who has such ideas. And with his idea, and dear, dead Loring’s vim to push it through, and six such people to write at it,’ Six of One by Half a Dozen of the Other,’ with its six prefaces, came to be. “The plot was very simple.

Three girls and three boys are brought up as neighbors in the New-England village of Greyford, and the gossips of the place and they themselves suppose they are mated so and so. But, by simultaneous happenings, they fly to all the ends of the earth, two to New York, two to Hartford, two to Boston. The’propinquity’ causes a new deal in the game of love; but, by a second series of happenings, they all find themselves in Chicago together, and the permutations are exhausted in three new matches, in which at last they come to their own.” A Delightful Book of Travel. “A Second’Eothen.”’

SAILING ON THE NILE. By LAURENT LAPORTE. Translated from the French by Miss VIRGINIA VAUGiAN. One neat i6mo volume. Price $I.5o. “One of the most compact and charming books of travel recently published,” says the Globe.

“The book is an admirable r%r,tion for a summer day, and will be read with equal profit and pleasure,” says tde Golden Age: “The charni of the book is due as much to the vivid style of:Liss Vaughan as to the glow and animation of the French author,” says the NV. 1 Evening Post. Sold everywhere. Mailed, potipaid, on receipt of the advertised price by the Publishers, ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston

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