And yet man smiles and laughs in the face of his tragic fate. In the
midst of his thraldom he has created the beautiful on earth; in the
midst of his torments he has had so much surplus energy of soul that he
has sent it radiating forth into the cold deeps of space and warmed them
with God.
So marvellous art thou, O spirit of man! So godlike in thy very nature!
Thou dost reap death, and in return thou sowest the dream of everlasting
life. In revenge for thine evil fate thou dost fill the universe with an
all-loving God.
We bore our part in his creation, all we who now are dust; we who sank
down into the dark like flames gone out;--we wept, we exulted, we felt
the ecstasy and the agony, but each of us brought our ray to the mighty
sea of light, each of us, from the negro setting up the first mark above
the grave of his dead to the genius raising the pillars of a temple
towards heaven. We bore our part, from the poor mother praying beside
a cradle, to the hosts that lifted their songs of praise high up into
boundless space.
Honour to thee, O spirit of man. Thou givest a soul to the world,
thou settest it a goal, thou art the hymn that lifts it into harmony;
therefore turn back into thyself, lift high thy head and meet proudly
the evil that comes to thee. Adversity can crush thee, death can blot
thee out, yet art thou still unconquerable and eternal.
Dear friend, it was thus I felt. And when the corn was sown, and I went
back, the sun was glancing over the shoulder of the hill.
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