the "Center," and as it draws him to it, through the autumn
fields of sumac and asters, a Gospel hymn of simple devotion
comes out to him--"There's a wideness in God's mercy"--an instant
suggestion of that Memorial Day morning comes--but the moment is
of deeper import--there is no personal exultation--no intimate
world vision--no magnified personal hope--and in their place a
profound sense of a spiritual truth,--a sin within reach of
forgiveness--and as the hymn voices die away, there lies at his
feet--not the world, but the figure of the Saviour--he sees an
unfathomable courage, an immortality for the lowest, the vastness
in humility, the kindness of the human heart, man's noblest
strength, and he knows that God is nothing--nothing but love!
Whence cometh the wonder of a moment? From sources we know not.
But we do know that from obscurity, and from this higher Orpheus
come measures of sphere melodies [note: Paraphrased from a
passage in Sartor Resartus.] flowing in wild, native tones,
ravaging the souls of men, flowing now with thousand-fold
accompaniments and rich symphonies through all our hearts;
modulating and divinely leading them.


3


What is character? In how far does it sustain the soul or the
soul it? Is it a part of the soul? And then--what is the soul?
Plato knows but cannot tell us. Every new-born man knows, but no
one tells us. "Nature will not be disposed of easily. No power of
genius has ever yet had the smallest success in explaining
existence. The perfect enigma remains." As every blind man sees