the material universe. A good end can have no meaning to us save
in relation to consciousness that distinguishes and knows the
good from the evil. There could be no better illustration of how
we are hemmed in than the very inadequacy of the words with which
we try to discuss this subject. Such words have all gained their
meanings from human experience, and hence of necessity carry
anthropomorphic implications. But we cannot help this. We must
think with the symbols with which experience has furnished us;
and when we so think, there does seem to be little that is even
intellectually satisfying in the awful picture which science
shows us, of giant worlds concentrating out of nebulous vapour,
developing with prodigious waste of energy into theatres of all
that is grand and sacred in spiritual endeavour, clashing and
exploding again into dead vapour-balls, only to renew the same
toilful process without end,--a senseless bubble-play of Titan
forces, with life, love, and aspiration brought forth only to be
extinguished. The human mind, however "scientific" its training,
must often recoil from the conclusion that this is all; and there
are moments when one passionately feels that this cannot be all.
On warm June mornings in green country lanes, with sweet
pine-odours wafted in the breeze which sighs through the
branches, and cloud-shadows flitting over far-off blue mountains,
while little birds sing their love-songs, and golden-haired
children weave garlands of wild roses; or when in the solemn
twilight we listen to wondrous harmonies of Beethoven and Chopin
that stir the heart like voices from an unseen world; at such
times one feels that the profoundest answer which science can
give to our questionings is but a superficial answer after all.
At these moments, when the world seems fullest of beauty, one
feels most strongly that it is but the harbinger of something