TREASURE-TROVE.
A day in the heart of summer,
A sky of that glorious hue
That dazzles and melts like the ocean,
In its fathomless, infinite blue!
The topmost leaves of the maple
Are stirred by a wondrous song,
That swells, and dies; then rising,
Still clearer floats along.
Oh, where have I heard that music?
Whence its familiar tone?
The beauty that thrills it, trembles
Not in the song alone:
It dwells in sunsets, that deepen
In the glory and gloom of night;
In waters that glance and sparkle,
In the hush of the lingering light.
Like the waves of a springing river,
That from silver fountains wells;
Higher, and fuller, and sweeter
That liquid melody swells.
Oh, the haunting, dim-shadowed expression,
That sighs on the breathless air!
If ever a soul were in music,
A soul is thrilling there!
That song, with its burden immortal,
I heard it long ago!
I know its every cadence,
That quivers and pulses so:
I claim it, bird of summer!
That wondrous song of thine;
Though thine its tuneful utterance,
Its melody is mine.
Then sing till, tranced in rapture,
The day forgets to wane;
And the winds of heaven are silent,
To hear that magic strain.
Sing till the pain of thy transport
O'erpowers each dying tone!
Thou canst not warble a measure
That is not all mine own.
MATTER AND SPIRIT.
Mr. Editor: In the July number of The Continental, I notice some editorial remarks upon a portion of my article 'Touching the Soul,' which appeared in the June number. For these remarks I am under obligation to you, as pointing out the looseness of my phraseology, whereby I have failed to convey the idea I intended; for which looseness the only excuse must be that my mind was occupied more with the thought than with the expression, and the latter was so absorbed in the former as to have suffered in consequence. For it seems to me that the strictures are due to misapprehension of the position assumed.
To commence with the assumed operation of spirit on the material world, as seen in the action of nature: Does not the theory that the mysterious productive forces are in their own nature spiritual verge somewhat closely upon the dogmas of pantheism? What else than this was the belief of the ancients, which placed a Naiad in every stream and a Dryad in every tree? Does it not draw still nearer to Shelley's theory of a 'Spirit of Nature,' which was his God, creating, shaping, and pervading all things? In a word, does not such a theory, in effect, place a god in every object?
Spirit acts independently of God. And here I would not be misunderstood. For though God, as the Author of all spiritual being, may be said to be the indirect cause of all spiritual action, since, if he had not created it, the action could not have resulted, yet He has created the soul to act upon its own promptings, and entirely independent of Himself, holding it, at the same time, to a strict accountability for all the deeds done in the body. To deny this, is to deny the whole doctrine of freewill agency, and with it that of all human responsibility, unless we go to the other and blasphemous extreme of branding with cruelty and injustice the entire system of revealed religion. In consequence, then, of this independent action of spirit, we see the soul of man constantly departing from its normal state, effecting evil as well as good, and guilty of action for which its Creator can in no wise be held responsible. And upon this simple fact hangs the whole system of future rewards and punishments. If now we consider this force which we have been discussing to be spiritual in its nature, it is not for us to draw the line between it and the soul of man. Spirit, so far as it touches our knowledge or experience, is one and the same thing the world over, differing only in degree of its qualities. If we concede to this force the status of spirit, we must also concede to it that essential characteristic or faculty of spirit, independent action; and hence the Creator God could not be said to have any hand whatever in the works of this spiritual force—in other words, in the creation of any of the features of the physical world—further than in the original creation of the spirit which underlies and produces them. But this position is in direct variance with the teachings of Holy Writ, wherein we are told that He maketh every flower to bloom, every leaf to grow, and without Him not even a sparrow falls to the ground. In fact, upon almost every page of the sacred book is recognized and taught the fact of the direct intervention of God, not only in human affairs, but also in every work of nature, however minute and insignificant.
And as another result of this independent action, we should find this spiritual force, as in the case of the human soul, frequently departing from its normal state, deviating from the laws which now seem to control it, and multiplying so-called 'freaks of nature,' abnormal works in the physical world, calculated to derange the comfort of mankind and render all things uncertain and insecure. In a word, it would be in the power of such a force, or combination and opposition of forces, to turn the earth again to its original chaos. With such a belief, then, we must assume that God has delegated the care of the material world to other hands of His own creation, and left the comfort and well-being of humanity at the mercy of another spirit, no wiser and perhaps not even so far advanced in the scale of progress as itself.
But it seems to me that the mysterious productive forces of nature can in no wise be called spiritual. Certainly spirit 'animates, informs, and shapes the universe,' in the sense that all things are created and all agencies are kept in operation by an all-powerful God, who is himself pure Spirit, but in no other sense; for God makes use of certain principles or laws to accomplish all things in this world of ours. That unknown force which vivifies the seed and produces the stalk, the blade, and the ear, which clothes the earth with verdure, and which underlies and induces all the works of nature, is not a thinking, reasoning spirit, like that which renders humanity godlike; but a principle—a law—a mere agency whereby the Almighty effects his designs, which is wholly controlled by him, dependent upon him for its very existence, and which in each individual instance ceases to be with the accomplishment of its end; a principle which humanity cannot comprehend, and with which human spirit can have no sympathy or connection except as it excites wonder and admiration. Under this view all the objects of nature are the products, not of spirit, but of law, which is itself the product of the one great Creative Spirit whereby all things are. Even if we admit that so subtle is the connection between the spirit and the law, the law and the material object, that matter may, after all, be said to be the work of and acted upon by spirit, yet it will be seen that even in this instance, spirit does not act directly upon matter, but only through certain intermediate agencies, of which more anon; while, in the matter under discussion, the direct action of spirit upon matter is assumed by the so-called spiritualists.