Thus my task at Time’s tremulous loom I ply,
And weave for God the Garment thou seest Him by.”
I forget who paraphrased that last line,—
“‘And weave for God the garment thou seest Him by.’”
said Mr. Clare. “It isn’t bad, but ‘living garment’ is even better, perhaps. The two together make up Goethe’s meaning.”
“Oh! so you give Goethe credit for using his spiritual optics?”
“In right of his poet or prophet-hood. A false prophet—not that Goethe was that, except partially like the rest, and much less so than many who are called the truest of the true,—but a false prophet is a prophet still, you know, and woe is unto him according to the falseness of his prophecy.”
“Because?”
“Because his falsehood is a moral fault. He could have seen truly had he purified his heart and life, and used his spiritual eyes.”
“Thank fortune! I really feared you were going to say ‘and used the grace of God.’ I do detest that expression! It is such a mean, cowardly state of mind for a man to be always asking for grace to do this, and rejoicing that he had grace given him to do that. Grace indeed! Has he no backbone of his own?”