The Soul went home to God.
“Alas!” they cried, “he never saw the morn,
But fell asleep outwearied with the strife”—
Nay, rather, he arose and met the dawn
Of everlasting life.
(3014)
SOUL, GREATNESS OF THE
The mountain is vast in size and weight. The weary feet clamber over it painfully. It offers homes along its breast to the enterprise which seeks them. Its quarries build palaces, and its woods timber navies. It lifts its crown of snow and ice against the sky, and stands amid the scene a very monarch of earth, primeval and abiding. But the soul can compass that mountain in its thought, without weariness or pain; can take it up and weigh it, in the balances of exact mathematical computation; and spurning it then, as a mere footstool for its activity, can spring from it to that boundless expanse amid which the mountain is less than is the least of the dust grains of the balance to its solid bulk.—Richard S. Storrs.
(3015)
Soul-growth—See [Growth, Unconscious].