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List! Because thou art now in the arms of Love I shall make for thee a grove of palms and olive, bread and date, and where thou art, even in the city of strife and turmoil and sin, yet thou shalt walk even in the groves, that I have made for thee. And thou shalt hear the plaintive call of the night bird and the heart-song of the winged creatures, whose hearts burst with love and joy in their caroling.
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And the fruit which the trees of great bearing shall yield thee, shall fill thee with satisfaction, thy hunger shall be stilled by their richness and thy thirst shall be slaked by their lusciousness, and lo, thou shalt contemplate the beauty and wonder of Me in the grove where I have placed thee and thy heart shall be calmed unto marvelous peace and many times thou shalt faint, because of the sweetness of that peace.
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Glory to Gooroo, he who carrieth in his heart and findeth Me in all that surroundeth him; he has for his surrounding My Abode and knoweth it as such. He needeth not a ground of tree or grass and flower to find a roebuck, but findeth it even at his side. He striveth not to gain possession of that which is far from his hand for he knoweth the rich mines with nuggets of gold are his for the taking. He findeth not solitude worse than death, nor is it amiss for him to breathe away from the crowd of men, for at his side are the voices of love that are loud even like the thunder or the roaring of the lion, or the screech of an eaglet. This shall ever be thine blessing, my son, and a shield of love shall cover thee and thy feet shall be swift and thou shall walk even light like unto the wind. Let not the burden of the world and the world's prattle come to thine ear and lie even heavy on thine heart, for in the palm of my hand thou shalt rest and like a bird who has lately become a mother and feeds her birdlets, so shall I feed thee, my son.
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Glory to Gooroo, who among men doth know Me and Me see in all things.
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O ye my children that fret and squirm underneath the load and scratches of life! Do give it unto Him who by his wondrous love for all knoweth not weight nor pain. That which to you a burdensome plight hath become, is light even unto down to Me. The blight has been of thine own making, O child of my heart!