Faith is an easy couch on which to repose; as a bridge it spans dark rivers of uncertainty, but it requires no faith to believe in the soul.
Even Spinoza must have observed that desire, reason and conscience are under the control of a distant power which can brush them all aside and go on its way, but it does not control memory.
Unconsciousness, whether in sleep or in death, ought not to frighten us. If in sleep it does not impair memory, it does not in death, as they are both simply the veil which shuts off our view.
In short, the soul appears through the body as its organ, giving us a view of its wonder through the flashlight of sensibility, one view at a time and no more.
In some mysterious, incomprehensible way the past travels with the present. Memory, anticipation and dreams are often far more real than when face to face with animal activity.
We cannot comprehend first cause; result is our only guide, but we dimly comprehend the apparent steps from the mineral to the spiritual.
Mineral life is inspiring in that it represents the star-lit Eternity into which we gaze in wonder and contemplate the incessant transformation.
Vegetable life creeps softly after, in obedience to the law of inclination, the roots search in darkness for moisture while the foliage turns to the morning sun in gladness.
Animal life cuts clear from vegetable moorings mysteriously equipped with an invisible guide.