THAT low man seeks a little thing to do,
Sees it and does it:
This high man, with a great thing to pursue,
Dies ere he knows it.
This low man goes on adding one to one,
His hundred’s soon hit:
This high man, aiming at a million,
Misses an unit.
HOW is it that the manifestation of a soul greater and holier than ours bears down upon us with irresistible authority, and that a Christ can only speak to us as a “Son of God”? No echo of our own opinions, no reflection of our egotistic tastes, ever elicits from us that uttermost of assent, ever draws from us the deep “Amen,” with which we respond to genuine holiness in thought or life. These things speak to us with a voice other than our own, a voice of higher command—of appeal subduing and Divine—that could only come from a higher being or a more heavenly world.
PAINFUL for man is that same rebellious Independence, when it has become inevitable; only in loving companionship with his fellows does he feel safe; only in reverently bowing down before the Higher does he feel himself exalted.