The Voice that spoke to me was silvery clear, and fell as it were
through the air, dividing space with sweetness. It was soft and
resonant, and the thrill of tenderness within it was as though an angel
sang through tears. Never had I heard anything so divinely pure and
compassionate,--and all my being strove to lift itself towards that
supernal height which seemed to be the hidden source of its melodious
utterance.
"O Soul, wandering in the region of sleep and dreams!" said the
Voice,--"What is all thy searching and labour worth without Love? Why
art thou lost in a Silence without Song?"
I raised my eyes, seeking for the one who thus spoke to me, but could
see nothing.
"In Life's great choral symphony"--the Voice continued--"the keynote of
the dominant melody is Love! Without the keynote there can be no
music,--there is dumbness where there should be sound,--there is
discord where there should be harmony. Love!--the one vibrant tone to
which the whole universe moves in tune,--Love, the breath of God, the
pulsation of His Being, the glory of His work, the fulfilment of His
Eternal Joy,--Love, and Love alone, is the web and texture and garment
of happy Immortality! O Soul that seekest the way to wisdom and to
power, what dost thou make of Love?"
I trembled and stood mute. It seemed that I was surrounded by solemn
Presences whose nearness I could feel but not see, and unknowing who it
was that spoke to me, I was afraid to answer.
"Far in the Past, thousands of ages ago," went on the Voice--"the world
we call the Sorrowful Star was a perfect note in a perfect scale. It
was in tune with the Divine Symphony. But with the sweep of centuries
it has lagged behind; it has fallen from Light into Shadow. And rather
than rise to Light again, it has made of itself a discord opposed to
the eternal Harmony. It has chosen for its keynote Hate,--not Love!
Each nation envies or despises the other,--each man struggles against
his fellow-man and grudges his neighbour every small advantage,--and
more than all, each Creed curses the other, blasphemously calling upon
God to verify and fulfil the curse! Hate, not Love!--this is the false
note struck by the pitiful Earth-world to-day, swinging out of all
concordance with spherical sweetness!--Hate that prefers falsehood to
truth, malice to kindness, selfishness to generosity! O Sorrowful
Star!--doomed so soon to perish!--turn, turn, even in thy last moments,
back to the Divine Ascendant before it is too late!"
I listened,--and a sense of hopeless fear possessed me. I tried to
speak, and a faint whisper crept from my lips. "Why,"--I murmured to
myself, for I did not suppose anyone could or would hear me--"why
should we and our world perish? We knew so little at the beginning, and
we know so little now,--is it altogether our fault if we have lost our
way?"
A silence followed. A vague, impalpable sense of restraint and
captivity seemed closing me in on every side,--I was imprisoned, as I
thought, within invisible walls. Then all at once this density of
atmosphere was struck asunder by a dazzling light as of cloven wings,
but I could see no actual shape or even suggestion of substance--the
glowing rays were all. And the Voice spoke again with grave sweetness
and something of reproach.
"Who speaks of losing the way?" it asked--"when the way is, and has
ever been, clear and plain? Nature teaches it,--Law and Order support
it. Obey and ye shall live: disobey and ye shall die! There is no other
ruling than this out of Chaos! Who is it that speaks of losing the way,
when the way is, and has been and ever shall be, clear and plain?"