A HOLY MAN'S PRAYER.
There was a holy man who thought never of himself, but ever of those among whom he lived and passed his days. So wondrous virtuous and holy he was, that ofttimes the host of unseen ones who loved to remain near him recognized the greatness of his goodness and spoke among themselves thus: "Holy is this man in truth and strange to say he knows it not. Surely few are like him. Let us who love him ask him how he would be served by us, how we may bestow upon him gifts which to the blind earthwalkers are called the supernatural or miraculous."
"So be it," in unison they replied. And one among the spirit-host who, by the strength and beauty of holiness was superior, addressed him thus: "O holy man, we who look upon you hourly and love you much, we would bestow upon you some gift What shall if be? The miracle of making all who look upon you—man, woman or child,—love you? Or would it be the miracle of relieving all whom thou dost meet and love of the load of poverty which thou seest and which makes thee sad at the look? Or shall it be the power of relieving the sick of his burden of disease which draggeth him to an early grave?"
The holy one looked at the gentle and lovely spirit with eyes in which dwelt the very beauty of love and holiness and said: "Nay, dear spirit, not for me are these miracles. To my Lord, who is the giver of all joy and pain, doth belong the great power of removing what he giveth. But this I ask, that I walk in humbleness and in my heart the prayer will grow to love my Lord the more. That love I may be able to give to all who come within my reach. This, O gentle spirit, is all I ask. Depart and allow me to but see my Lord in humbleness and pray to love him."
The spirit departed and to the unseen host did say: "For such as he is the Love of the Lord! Already hath he acquired what we in vain seek—Love for the Lord!"
Glory to Gooroo who bringeth love and light wherever he walketh. Love Love's own creation is, it is its own reward. No human law its force can sway. No human force can stay its tide. Love is the source of living things and all that it doth love. Naught that thine eyes can rest upon but hath its root in Love. The heart that love denies is cold. It sleepeth and it stagnant is; it is frozen o'er by snows of earth and sinneth most against itself. Love giveth of itself to all, nor asketh it return. It is a law unto itself, a law to man and beast and plant. The snake doth glide Love's warmth to know the bird the air doth cleave its force to feel; the flower upward turns its wondering gaze the kiss of Love to meet The beast doth pant all eagerly the eye of Love to behold. But man it is who makes the simple theme of Love a huge complexity. In restlessness he struggles for that which he already hath, for that without which he could not exist.
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O My jewels! lean on the altar of My all-creating Love and soon your heart will be as a laughing child. Quick My all-responsive touch to know, a bursting fount of gladness and generosity you will be, and the hot desert of your heart, which dry and sandy now is, a garden of lily and rose will become.
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Love was My natural gift to one and all of My creation. Who this doth know a treasure hath in truth.