_Socr._ Why have you come at this hour, Crito? Is it not very early?
_Cri._ It is.
_Socr._ About what time?
_Cri._ Scarce day-break.
_Socr._ I wonder how the keeper of the prison came to admit you.
_Cri._ He is familiar with me, Socrates, from my having frequently come
hither; and he is under some obligations to me.
_Socr._ Have you just now come, or some time since?
_Cri._ A considerable time since.
_Socr._ Why, then, did you not wake me at once, instead of sitting down
by me in silence?
_Cri._ By Jupiter! Socrates, I should not myself like to be so long
awake, and in such affliction. But I have been for some time wondering
at you, perceiving how sweetly you slept; and I purposely did not awake
you, that you might pass your time as pleasantly as possible. And,
indeed, I have often before throughout your whole life considered you
happy in your disposition, but far more so in the present calamity,
seeing how easily and meekly you bear it.
_Socr._ However, Crito, it would be disconsonant for a man at my time of
life to repine because he must needs die.
_Cri._ But others, Socrates, at your age have been involved in similar
calamities, yet their age has not hindered their repining at their
present fortune.
_Socr._ So it is. But why did you come so early?
_Cri._ Bringing sad tidings, Socrates, not sad to you, as it appears,
but to me, and all your friends, sad and heavy, and which I, I think,
shall bear worst of all.
_Socr._ What tidings? Has the ship[6] arrived from Delos, on the arrival
of which I must die?
_Cri._ It has not yet arrived, but it appears to me that it will come
to-day, from what certain persons report who have come from Sunium,[7]
and left it there. It is clear, therefore, from these messengers, that
it will come to day, and consequently it will be necessary, Socrates,
for you to die to-morrow.
2. _Socr._ But with good fortune, Crito, and if so it please the gods,
so be it. I do not think, however, that it will come to day.
_Cri._ Whence do you form this conjecture?
_Socr._ I will tell you. I must die on the day after that on which the
ship arrives.
_Cri._ So they say[8] who have the control of these things.
_Socr._ I do not think, then, that it will come to-day, but to-morrow. I
conjecture this from a dream which I had this very night, not long ago,
and you seem very opportunely to have refrained from waking me.
_Cri._ But what was this dream?
_Socr._ A beautiful and majestic woman, clad in white garments seemed to
approach me, and to call to me and say, "Socrates, three days hence you
will reach fertile Pythia"[9].
_Cri._ What a strange dream, Socrates!
_Socr._ Very clear, however, as it appears to me, Crito.
3. _Cri._ Very much so, as it seems. But, my dear Socrates, even now be
persuaded by me, and save yourself. For if you die, not only a single
calamity will befall me, but, besides being deprived of such a friend as
I shall never meet with again, I shall also appear to many who do not
know you and me well, when I might have saved you had I been willing to
spend my money, to have neglected to do so. And what character can be
more disgraceful than this--to appear to value one's riches more than
one's friends? For the generality of men will not be persuaded that you
were unwilling to depart hence, when we urged you to it.
_Socr._ But why, my dear Crito, should we care so much for the opinion
of the many? For the most worthy men, whom we ought rather to regard,
will think that matters have transpired as they really have.
_Cri._ Yet you see, Socrates, that it is necessary to attend to the
opinion of the many. For the very circumstances of the present case show
that the multitude are able to effect not only the smallest evils, but
even the greatest, if any one is calumniated to them.
_Socr._ Would, O Crito that the multitude could effect the greatest
evils, that they might also effect the greatest good, for then it would
be well. But now they can do neither; for they can make a man neither
wise nor foolish; but they do whatever chances.
4. _Cri._ So let it be, then. But answer me this, Socrates: are you not
anxious for me and other friends, lest, if you should escape from hence,
informers should give us trouble, as having secretly carried you off,
and so we should be compelled either to lose all our property, or a very
large sum, or to suffer something else besides this? For, if you fear
any thing of the kind, dismiss your fears; for we are justified in
running the risk to save you--and, if need be, even a greater risk than
this. But be persuaded by me, and do not refuse.
_Socr._ I am anxious about this, Crito, and about many other things.
_Cri._ Do not fear this, however; for the sum is not large on receipt of
which certain persons are willing to save you, and take you hence. In
the next place, do you not see how cheap these informers are, so that
there would be no need of a large sum for them? My fortune is at your
service, sufficient, I think, for the purpose; then if, out of regard to
me, you do not think right to spend my money, these strangers here are
ready to spend theirs. One of them, Simmias the Theban, has brought with
him a sufficient sum for the very purpose. Cebes, too, is ready, and
very many others. So that, as I said, do not, through fears of this
kind, hesitate to save yourself, nor let what you said in court give you
any trouble, that if you went from hence you would not know what to do
with yourself. For in many places, and wherever you go, men will love
you; and if you are disposed to go to Thessaly, I have friends there who
will esteem you very highly, and will insure your safety, so that no one
in Thessaly will molest you.
5. Moreover, Socrates, you do not appear to me to pursue a just course
in giving yourself up when you might be saved; and you press on the very
results with respect to yourself which your enemies would press, and
have pressed, in their anxiety to destroy you. Besides this, too, you
appear to me to betray your own sons, whom, when it is in your power to
rear and educate them, you will abandon, and, so far as you are
concerned, they will meet with such a fate as chance brings them, and,
as is probable, they will meet with such things as orphans are wont to
experience in a state of orphanage. Surely one ought not to have
children, or one should go through the toil of rearing and instructing
them. But you appear to me to have chosen the most indolent course;
though you ought to have chosen such a course as a good and brave man
would have done, since you profess to have made virtue your study
through the whole of your life; so that I am ashamed both for you and
for us who are your friends, lest this whole affair of yours should seem
to be the effect of cowardice on our part--your appearing to stand your
trial in the court, since you appeared when it was in your power not to
have done so, the very manner in which the trial was conducted, and this
last circumstance, as it were, a ridiculous consummation of the whole
business; your appearing to have escaped from us through our indolence
and cowardice, who did not save you; nor did you save yourself, when it
was practicable and possible, had we but exerted ourselves a little.
Think of these things, therefore, Socrates, and beware, lest, besides
the evil _that will result_, they be disgraceful both to you and to us;
advise, then, with yourself; though, indeed, there is no longer time for
advising--your resolve should be already made. And there is but one
plan; for in the following night the whole must be accomplished. If we
delay, it will be impossible and no longer practicable. By all means,
therefore, Socrates, be persuaded by me, and on no account refuse.
6. _Socr._ My dear Crito, your zeal would be very commendable were it
united with right principle; otherwise, by how much the more earnest it
is, by so much is it the more sad. We must consider, therefore, whether
this plan should be adopted or not. For I not now only, but always, am a
person who will obey nothing within me but reason, according as it
appears to me on mature deliberation to be best. And the reasons which I
formerly professed I can not now reject, because this misfortune has
befallen me; but they appear to me in much the same light, and I respect
and honor them as before; so that if we are unable to adduce any better
at the present time, be assured that I shall not give in to you, even
though the power of the multitude should endeavor to terrify us like
children, by threatening more than it does now, bonds and death, and
confiscation of property. How, therefore, may we consider the matter
most conveniently? First of all, if we recur to the argument which you
used about opinions, whether on former occasions it was rightly resolved
or not, that we ought to pay attention to some opinions, and to others
not; or whether, before it was necessary that I should die, it was
rightly resolved; but now it has become clear that it was said idly for
argument's sake, though in reality it was merely jest and trifling. I
desire then, Crito, to consider, in common with you, whether it will
appear to me in a different light, now that I am in this condition, or
the same, and whether we shall give it up or yield to it. It was said, I
think, on former occasions, by those who were thought to speak
seriously, as I just now observed, that of the opinions which men
entertain some should be very highly esteemed and others not. By the
gods! Crito, does not this appear to you to be well said? For you, in
all human probability, are out of all danger of dying to-morrow, and the
present calamity will not lead your judgment astray. Consider, then;
does it not appear to you to have been rightly settled that we ought not
to respect all the opinions of men, but some we should, and others not?
Nor yet the opinions of all men, but of some we should, and of others
not? What say you? Is not this rightly resolved?
_Cri._ It is.
_Socr._ Therefore we should respect the good, but not the bad?
_Cri._ Yes.
_Socr._ And are not the good those of the wise, and the bad those of the
foolish?
_Cri._ How can it be otherwise?
7. _Socr._ Come, then: how, again, were the following points settled?
Does a man who practices gymnastic exercises and applies himself to
them, pay attention to the praise and censure and opinion of every one,
or of that one man only who happens to be a physician, or teacher of the
exercises?
_Cri._ Of that one only.
_Socr._ He ought, therefore, to fear the censures and covet the praises
of that one, but not those of the multitude.
_Cri._ Clearly.
_Socr._ He ought, therefore, so to practice and exercise himself, and to
eat and drink, as seems fitting to the one who presides and knows,
rather than to all others together.
_Cri._ It is so.
_Socr._ Well, then, if he disobeys the one, and disregards his opinion
and praise, but respects that of the multitude and of those who know
nothing, will he not suffer some evil?
_Cri._ How should he not?
_Socr._ But what is this evil? Whither does it tend, and on what part
of him that disobeys will it fall?
_Cri._ Clearly on his body, for this it ruins.
_Socr._ You say well. The case is the same, too, Crito, with all other
things, not to go through them all. With respect then, to things just
and unjust, base and honorable, good and evil, about which we are now
consulting, ought we to follow the opinion of the multitude, and to
respect it, or that of one, if there is any one who understands, whom we
ought to reverence and respect rather than all others together? And if
we do not obey him, shall we not corrupt and injure that part of
ourselves which becomes better by justice, but is ruined by injustice?
Or is this nothing?
_Cri._ I agree with you, Socrates.
8. _Socr._ Come, then, if we destroy that which becomes better by what
is wholesome, but is impaired by what is unwholesome, through being
persuaded by those who do not understand, can we enjoy life when that is
impaired? And this is the body we are speaking of, is it not?
_Cri._ Yes.
_Socr._ Can we, then, enjoy life with a diseased and impaired body?
_Cri._ By no means.
_Socr._ But can we enjoy life when that is impaired which injustice
ruins but justice benefits? Or do we think that to be of less value than
the body, whatever part of us it may be, about which injustice and
justice are concerned'
_Cri._ By no means.
_Socr._ But of more value?
_Cri._ Much more.
_Socr._ We must not then, my excellent friend, so much regard what the
multitude will say of us, but what he will say who understands the just
and the unjust, the one, even truth itself. So that at first you did
not set out with a right principle, when you laid it down that we ought
to regard the opinion of the multitude with respect to things just and
honorable and good, and their contraries. How ever, some one may say,
are not the multitude able to put us to death?
_Cri._ This, too, is clear, Socrates, any one might say so.
_Socr._ You say truly. But, my admirable friend, this principle which we
have just discussed appears to me to be the same as it was before[10].
And consider this, moreover, whether it still holds good with us or not,
that we are not to be anxious about living but about living well.
_Cri._ It does hold good.
_Socr._ And does this hold good or not, that to live well and Honorable
and justly are the same thing?
_Cri._ It does.
9. _Socr._ From what has been admitted, then, this consideration arises,
whether it is just or not that I should endeavor to leave this place
without the permission of the Athenians. And should it appear to be
just, we will make the attempt, but if not, we will give it up. But as
to the considerations which you mention, of an outlay of money,
reputation, and the education of children, beware, Crito, lest such
considerations as these in reality belong to these multitudes, who
rashly put one to death, and would restore one to life, if they could do
so, without any reason at all. But we, since reason so requires, must
consider nothing else than what we just now mentioned, whether we shall
act justly in paying money and contracting obligations to those who
will lead me hence, as well they who lead me as we who are led hence, or
whether, in truth, we shall not act unjustly in doing all these things.
And if we should appear in so doing to be acting unjustly, observe that
we must not consider whether from remaining here and continuing quiet we
must needs die, or suffer any thing else, rather than whether we shall
be acting unjustly.
_Cri._ You appear to me to speak wisely, Socrates, but see what we are
to do.
_Socr._ Let us consider the matter together, my friend, and if you have
any thing to object to what I say, make good your objection, and I will
yield to you, but if not, cease, my excellent friend, to urge upon me
the same thing so often, that I ought to depart hence against the will
of the Athenians. For I highly esteem your endeavors to persuade me thus
to act, so long as it is not against my will Consider, then, the
beginning of our inquiry, whether it is stated to your entire
satisfaction, and endeavor to answer the question put to you exactly as
you think right.
_Cri._ I will endeavor to do so.
10. _Socr._ Say we, then, that we should on no account deliberately
commit injustice, or may we commit injustice under certain
circumstances, under others not? Or is it on no account either good or
honorable to commit injustice, as we have often agreed on former
occasions, and as we just now said? Or have all those our former
admissions been dissipated in these few days, and have we, Crito, old
men as we are, been for a long time seriously conversing with each other
without knowing that we in no respect differ from children? Or does the
case, beyond all question, stand as we then determined? Whether the
multitude allow it or not, and whether we must suffer a more severe or a
milder punishment than this, still is injustice on every account both
evil and disgraceful to him who commits it? Do we admit this, or not?
_Cri._ We do admit it.
_Socr._ On no account, therefore, ought we to act unjustly.
_Cri._ Surely not.
_Socr._ Neither ought one who is injured to return the injury, as the
multitude think, since it is on no account right to act unjustly.
_Cri._ It appears not.
_Socr._ What, then? Is it right to do evil, Crito, or not?
_Cri._ Surely it is not right, Socrates.
_Socr._ But what? To do evil in return when one has been evil-entreated,
is that right, or not?
_Cri._ By no means.
_Socr._ For to do evil to men differs in no respect from committing
injustice.
_Cri._ You say truly.
_Socr._ It is not right, therefore, to return an injury, or to do evil
to any man, however one may have suffered from him. But take care,
Crito, that in allowing these things you do not allow them contrary to
your opinion, for I know that to some few only these things both do
appear, and will appear, to be true. They, then, to whom these things
appear true, and they to whom they do not, have no sentiment in common,
and must needs despise each other, while they look to each other's
opinions. Consider well, then, whether you coincide and think with me,
and whether we can begin our deliberations from this point--that it is
never right either to do an injury or to return an injury, or when one
has been evil-entreated, to revenge one's self by doing evil in return,
or do you dissent from, and not coincide in this principle? For so it
appears to me, both long since and now, but if you in any respect think
otherwise, say so and inform me. But if you persist in your former
opinions, hear what follows.
_Cri._ I do persist in them, and think with you. Speak on, then.
_Socr._ I say next, then, or rather I ask; whether when a man has
promised to do things that are just he ought to do them, or evade his
promise?
_Cri._ He ought to do them.
11. _Socr._ Observe, then, what follows. By departing hence without the
leave of the city, are we not doing evil to some, and that to those to
whom we ought least of all to do it, or not? And do we abide by what we
agreed on as being just, or do we not?
_Cri._ I am unable to answer your question, Socrates; for I do not
understand it.
_Socr._ Then, consider it thus. If, while we were preparing to run away,
or by whatever name we should call it, the laws and commonwealth should
come, and, presenting themselves before us, should say, "Tell me,
Socrates, what do you purpose doing? Do you design any thing else by
this proceeding in which you are engaged than to destroy us, the laws,
and the whole city, so far as you are able? Or do you think it possible
for that city any longer to subsist, and not be subverted, in which
judgments that are passed have no force, but are set aside and destroyed
by private persons?"--what should we say, Crito, to these and similar
remonstrances? For any one, especially an orator, would have much to say
on the violation of the law, which enjoins that judgments passed shall
be enforced. Shall we say to them that the city has done us an
injustice, and not passed a right sentence? Shall we say this, or what
else?
_Cri._ This, by Jupiter! Socrates.
12. _Socr._ What, then, if the laws should say, "Socrates, was it not
agreed between us that you should abide by the judgments which the city
should pronounce?" And if we should wonder at their speaking thus,
perhaps they would say, "Wonder not, Socrates, at what we say, but
answer, since you are accustomed to make use of questions and answers.
For, come, what charge have you against us and the city, that you
attempt to destroy us? Did we not first give you being? and did not your
father, through us, take your mother to wife and beget you? Say, then,
do you find fault with those laws among us that relate to marriage as
being bad?" I should say, "I do not find fault with them." "Do you with
those that relate to your nurture when born, and the education with
which you were instructed? Or did not the laws, ordained on this point,
enjoin rightly, in requiring your father to instruct you in music and
gymnastic exercises?" I should say, rightly. Well, then, since you were
born, nurtured, and educated through our means, can you say, first of
all, that you are not both our offspring and our slave, as well you as
your ancestors? And if this be so, do you think that there are equal
rights between us? and whatever we attempt to do to you, do you think
you may justly do to us in turn? Or had you not equal rights with your
father, or master, if you happened to have one, so as to return what you
suffered, neither to retort when found fault with, nor, when stricken,
to strike again, nor many other things of the kind; but that with your
country and the laws you may do so; so that if we attempt to destroy
you, thinking it to be just, you also should endeavor, so far as you are
able, in return, to destroy us, the laws, and your country; and in doing
this will you say that you act justly--you who, in reality, make virtue
your chief object? Or are you so wise as not to know that one's country
is more honorable, venerable, and sacred, and more highly prized both by
gods, and men possessed of understanding, than mother and father, and
all other progenitors; and that one ought to reverence, submit to, and
appease one's country, when angry, rather than one's father; and either
persuade it or do what it orders, and to suffer quietly if it bids one
suffer, whether to be beaten, or put in bonds; or if it sends one out to
battle there to be wounded or slain, this must be done; for justice so
requires, and one must not give way, or retreat, or leave one's post;
but that both in war and in a court of justice, and everywhere one must
do what one's city and country enjoin, or persuade it in such manner as
justice allows; but that to offer violence either to one's mother or
father is not holy, much less to one's country? What shall we say to
these things, Crito? That the laws speak the truth, or not?
_Cri._ It seems so to me.
13. _Socr._ "Consider, then, Socrates," the laws perhaps might say,
"whether we say truly that in what you are now attempting you are
attempting to do what is not just toward us. For we, having given you
birth, nurtured, instructed you, and having imparted to you and all
other citizens all the good in our power, still proclaim, by giving the
power to every Athenian who pleases, when he has arrived at years of
discretion, and become acquainted with the business of the state, and
us, the laws, that any one who is not satisfied with us may take his
property, and go wherever he pleases. And if any one of you wishes to go
to a colony, if he is not satisfied with us and the city, or to migrate
and settle in another country, none of us, the laws, hinder or forbid
him going whithersoever he pleases, taking with him all his property.
But whoever continues with us after he has seen the manner in which we
administer justice, and in other respects govern the city, we now say
that he has in fact entered into a compact with us to do what we order;
and we affirm that he who does not obey is in three respects guilty of
injustice--because he does not obey us who gave him being, and because
he does not obey us who nurtured him, and because, having made a compact
that he would obey us, he neither does so, nor does he persuade us if we
do any thing wrongly; though we propose for his consideration, and do
not rigidly command him to do what we order, but leave him the choice of
one of two things, either to persuade us, or to do what we require, and
yet he does neither of these."
14. "And we say that you, O Socrates! will be subject to these charges
if you accomplish your design, and that not least of the Athenians, but
most so of all." And if I should ask, "For what reason?" they would
probably justly retort on me by saying that, among all the Athenians, I
especially made this compact with them. For they would say, "Socrates,
we have strong proof of this, that you were satisfied both with us and
the city; for, of all the Athenians, you especially would never have
dwelt in it if it had not been especially agreeable to you; for you
never went out of the city to any of the public spectacles, except once
to the Isthmian games, nor anywhere else, except on military service,
nor have you ever gone abroad as other men do, nor had you ever had any
desire to become acquainted with any other city or other laws, but we
and our city were sufficient for you; so strongly were you attached to
us, and so far did you consent to submit to our government, both in
other respects and in begetting children in this city, in consequence of
your being satisfied with it. Moreover, in your very trial, it was in
your power to have imposed on yourself a sentence of exile, if you
pleased, and might then have done, with the consent of the city, what
you now attempt against its consent. Then, indeed, you boasted yourself
as not being grieved if you must needs die; but you preferred, as you
said, death to exile. Now, however, you are neither ashamed of those
professions, nor do you revere us, the laws, since you endeavor to
destroy us, and you act as the vilest slave would act, by endeavoring to
make your escape contrary to the conventions and the compacts by which
you engaged to submit to our government. First, then, therefore, answer
us this, whether we speak the truth or not in affirming that you agreed
to be governed by us in deed, though not in word?" What shall we say to
this, Crito? Can we do otherwise than assent?
_Cri._ We must needs do so, Socrates.
_Socr._ "What else, then," they will say, "are you doing but violating
the conventions and compacts which you made with us, though you did not
enter into them from compulsion or through deception, or from being
compelled to determine in a short time but during the space of seventy
years, in which you might have departed if you had been dissatisfied
with us, and the compacts had not appeared to you to be just? You,
however, preferred neither Lacedæmon nor Crete, which you several times
said are governed by good laws, nor any other of the Grecian or
barbarian cities; but you have been less out of Athens than the lame and
the blind, and other maimed persons. So much, it is evident, were you
satisfied with the city and us, the laws, beyond the rest of the
Athenians; for who can be satisfied with a city without laws? But now
will you not abide by your compacts? You will, if you are persuaded by
us, Socrates, and will not make yourself ridiculous by leaving the
city."
15. "For consider, by violating these compacts and offending against any
of them, what good you will do to yourself or your friends. For that
your friends will run the risk of being themselves banished, and
deprived of the rights of citizenship, or of forfeiting their property,
is pretty clear. And as for yourself, if you should go to one of the
neighboring cities, either Thebes or Megara, for both are governed by
good laws, you will go there, Socrates, as an enemy to their polity; and
such as have any regard for their country will look upon you with
suspicion, regarding you as a corrupter of the laws; and you will
confirm the opinion of the judges, so that they will appear to have
condemned you rightly, for whose is a corrupter of the laws will appear
in all likelihood to be a corrupter of youths and weak-minded men. Will
you, then, avoid these well-governed cities, and the best-ordered men?
And should you do so, will it be worth your while to live? Or will you
approach them, and have the effrontery to converse with them, Socrates,
on subjects the same as you did here--that virtue and justice, legal
institutions and laws, should be most highly valued by men? And do you
not think that this conduct of Socrates would be very indecorous? You
must think so. But you will keep clear of these places, and go to
Thessaly, to Crito's friends, for there are the greatest disorder and
licentiousness; and perhaps they will gladly hear you relating how
drolly you escaped from prison, clad in some dress or covered with a
skin, or in some other disguise such as fugitives are wont to dress
themselves in, having so changed your usual appearance. And will no one
say that you, though an old man, with but a short time to live, in all
probability, have dared to have such a base desire of life as to violate
the most sacred laws? Perhaps not, should you not offend any one. But if
you should, you will hear, Socrates, many things utterly unworthy of
you. You will live, too, in a state of abject dependence on all men,
and as their slave. But what will you do in Thessaly besides feasting,
as if you had gone to Thessaly to a banquet? And what will become of
those discourses about justice and all other virtues? But do you wish to
live for the sake of your children, that you may rear and educate them?
What then? Will you take them to Thessaly, and there rear and educate
them, making them aliens to their country, that they may owe you this
obligation too? Or, if not so, being reared here, will they be better
reared and educated while you are living, though not with them, for your
friends will take care of them? Whether, if you go to Thessaly, will
they take care of them, but if you go to Hades will they not take care
of them? If, however, any advantage is to be derived from those that say
they are your friends, we must think they will."
16. "Then, O Socrates! be persuaded by us who have nurtured you, and do
not set a higher value on your children, or on life, or on any thing
else than justice, that, when you arrive in Hades, you may have all this
to say in your defense before those who have dominion there. For neither
here in this life, if you do what is proposed, does it appear to be
better, or more just, or more holy to yourself, or any of your friends;
nor will it be better for you when you arrive there. But now you depart,
if you do depart, unjustly treated, not by us, the laws, but by men; but
should you escape, having thus disgracefully returned injury for injury,
and evil for evil, having violated your own compacts and conventions
which you made with us, and having done evil to those to whom you least
of all should have done it--namely, yourself, your friends, your
country, and us--both we shall be indignant with you as long as you
live, and there our brothers, the laws in Hades, will not receive you
favorably knowing that you attempted, so far as you were able, to
destroy us. Let not Crito, then, persuade you to do what he advises,
rather than we."
17. These things, my dear friend Crito, be assured, I seem to hear as
the votaries of Cybele[11] seem to hear the flutes. And the sound of
these words booms in my ear, and makes me incapable of hearing any thing
else. Be sure, then, so long as I retain my present opinions, if you
should say any thing contrary to these, you will speak in vain. If,
however, you think that you can prevail at all, say on.
_Cri._ But, Socrates, I have nothing to say.
_Socr._ Desist, then, Crito, and let us pursue this course, since this
way the deity leads us.