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Do not allow the phantom fears crowd into thy heart and make a layer of darkness in thy heart, even as the water doth drop its heaviness into the bottom of a vessel and leave its heaviness there, for, if thou dost, then will the waters of cleanness that fill thy heart by the least ripple stir up the heaviness and rust that hath sunk to the bottom and so color even that which was clear. Naught is there in thee to bring shadow of that which is gruesome to thee, My child, for when thou comest to Me there have I buried deep that which might have caused thee fear. List I do thou even let the desires of thy heart lie dormant and do thou even seek My Love in this hour. Then thou shalt know the fatness of My love and when thou dost, then will the soul thou cravest to turn toward thee in the splendour of light beam full upon thee, even as thou wouldst have it Love, My own, the working of My love, is not always the working of that which thou canst only see a little way—for far even unto eternity do I lode and the links I rivet now are even the chain that stretches to the end of time everlasting. Therefore do thou not look only to the feet ahead of thee, but do thou find that in the time and place of my action there alone perfection is—yea, even there perfection is which to thee may seem even unfinished, but to My Eye it is the whole complete.
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Out of the tumult of thy heart, out of the chaos of thy mind, out of the depth of thy understanding thou dost call unto Me for rest and thus do I answer thee, My little one!
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Seek not rest in the plane where the earthly gives birth to thoughts and loves, for if thou dost, thou shalt but be dragged through the rough wilderness of life, which is not of Me. Whenever thou dost feel thy feet tangled in the interlaced roots of life, know thou hast strayed a little from the path whereon I beckon thee, for I have placed thee in broad, smooth paths, which are flower-strewn and perfumed with sweet smelling vines and also have put before thee a light, which thou canst ever follow and thus run without stumbling.
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Hear thou this! The bliss of action I have planted in thy spirit and if for a span thy soul hath grown weary and thou longest to fold thy tired wings and sleep awhile on the Island of White Silence, that dwells even in the midst of the ocean of existence, if that thou wouldst do—call upon Me and with My smile that which is unlike Me, shall drop from thy soul, as the old garment falleth from the butterfly, when its wings are strong to cleave the air. And after a sufficient slumber thou shalt be quickened with deathless energy and shalt speed in eagle swiftness even to the sun, which is the burning of the love in My Eye. But, list, my jewel! Be not confounded by the shaking of thy timid heart, nor yet by the yelling grisly shapes, that seem full of dread, hunting at thy back, nor be allured by bright phantoms of false joys beckoning thee ceaselessly. Like swarms of gnats about a dark and sullen river, they crowd about the heart that harbours thoughts of fear and lo, their stings do itch and burn and swell and bring fever to the blood and bitterness to the taste and even death to the joy that dwelleth in the heart. Lo, My child, hast thou not spied the serpent in the closed, tight bud of the rose or even in the hollow of the rosy fruit? Eye saw it not, but the rose became even as rust and the apple rotten. So beware that an adder rest not in the bud of the heart and that adder fear be opposed to hope which I have placed in goodly share upon thy brow.
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List, My own, and abide by My song that unto thy soul I sing: Bliss is the perpetual motion of Love. As a running stream it is that cometh from an inexhaustible source, the depth of which is even unmeasurable.