reach it, our most earnest prayer should be, that we may never lose sight of that celestial goal, for surely it is the one thing worthy of achievement! T o many the foregoing may appear as mere speculations, and the firmest faith indeed can scarcely call itself knowledge, but, however necessary the complete knowledge may be, we may at least hope that its partial possession is adequate to the requirements of the occasion. T o us whose feet tread, often wearily, towards the path of the great quest, and whose eyes strain blindly through the mists that wrap us round, steady perseverance and omnipotent hope must be the watch words— perseverance to struggle on, though the fiends of the lower self may make every step a battle, and hope that at any moment the en trance to the path may be found. A s an example of these two qualities, and also because all words that strike a high key are bound to awaken responsive echoes in noble hearts, let us conclude with the following extract from the Ram ayana:— “ Thus spoke Rama. Virtue is a service man owes himself, and though there were no heaven nor any God to rule the world, it were not less the binding law of life. It is man’s privilege to know the right and follow it. Betray and persecute me brother men ! Pour out your rage on me O malignant devils ! Smile, or watch my agony in cold disdain ye blissful Gods ! Earth, hell, heaven combine your might to crush me— I will still hold fast by this inheritance! M y strength is nothing— time can shake and.cripple it; my youth is transient— already grief has withered up my d a y s; my heart— alas 1 it is well-nigh broken now. Anguish may crush it utterly, and life may fa il; but even so my soul that has not tripped shall triumph, and dying, give the lie to soulless destiny that dares to boast itself man’s master.”
“ P il g r im .”
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W H IS P E R O F A RO SE. Behold me ! an offspring o f Darkness and L ig h t With soft, tender petals of radiant white, W ith golden heart mystery, full o f perfume T hat is Soul of my Breath— the Secret o f Bloom. Infinity’s centre is heart of the rose, A n d th’ breath o f Creation its perfum e that flows Through ages and eons and time yet untold— But the Soul o f the B reath I may not unfold. M ora .