The precious apple of great wisdom’s eye;
The circle of existence is a ring,
Whereof the signet is humanity.—
(351) The more I die to self, I live the more,
The more abase myself, the higher soar;
And, strange! the more I drink of Being’s wine,
More sane I grow, and sober than before!—
(369) This world a body is, and God its soul,
And angels are its senses, who control
Its limbs—the creatures, elements, and spheres;