Atlas which bears the Sacred Body and Blood when it is given to us.


August 26.

Sorrow has come at last. Full moon, and life is at the flood. The
precept of all adversity is of course that the ebb tide of fortune is
our flood toward God. Even the lamp tonight is singing in the room.


August 27.

The experience still turns inward to the heart of life. I now see the
core of it. It burns, of course, but think of the wheel it carries. A
few days ago I was on the circumference. Now I have found the center.
A day of rain and wind and exterior disturbances. But I have found my
cenacle.


August 28.

A victory for the will. ... It is strange that every vital lesson that
experience teaches can never be expressed in words. The past few days
have taught me more than the rest of the summer. There will always be
a secrecy of the soul, and what this contains constitutes God's image
and likeness. Life sings tonight in every atom its marvelous chemistry
of change and prophecy. Nature knows no elegies, since it may never
triumph over aught but dust. But the highest dream is less worthy than
the simplest deed, and we must forget the knowledge of good and evil.
I would exchange all the knowledge I have gained for the grace to