The ancient Semitic philosopher and poet who wrote the book of Job, brooding on the strange problem of life and death, murmured, "Man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?" With each successive generation, for many ages, countless millions have dissolved and vanished into the vast, dumb mystery. Now, the spectator, remembering all this, stands beneath the dome of midnight, imploringly breathes the mystic sigh, "Man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?" The only responses is the same dread silence still maintained as of old. And, in a moment more, he who breathed the wondering inquiry is himself gone. Whither? Into the vacant dark of nothingness? Into the transparent sphere of perfect intelligence? The sublimity of the demand seems to ally the finite questioner with the infinite Creator; and, with a presentiment of marvelous joy, we look beyond the ignorant veil at the close of earth, and hold that eternity itself will not exhaust the possibilities of the soul, whose career shall be kept from stagnation by constant interspersals of death and birth, refreshing disembodiments from worn out forms and reincarnations in new.
If this life on the earth, where man feels himself a stranger, be his all, how superfluously he is equipped with foresights and longings that outrun every conceivable limit! Why is he gifted with powers of reason and demands of love so far beyond his conditions? If there be no future for him, why is he tortured with the inspiring idea of the eternal pursuit of the still flying goal of perfection? Is it possible that the hero and the martyr and the saint, whose experience is laden with painful sacrifices for humanity, are mistaken? and that the slattern and the voluptuary and the sluggard, whose course is one of base self indulgence, are correct? Is it credible that, with no justifying explanation hereafter, it should be ordained that the more gifted and disinterested a man is the more he shall uselessly suffer, from his sympathetic carriage of the greater share in the sin and sorrow of all his race? No, far back in the past there has been some dark mystery which yet flings its dense shadows over our history here; and in the obscurity we cannot read its solution. But there is a solution. And when in some blessed age to come mankind shall outgrow their discords and be reconciled, so that their divinest living member can become the focalizing center of their collective inspiration, through him the truth will be revealed. The most inspired individual can only in a degree anticipate his age. At a certain distance he is tethered by his connections with the race. They must be near the goal before he can deliver the final message. Inspiration and revelation are as real as the sensuous method of outer knowledge. Spirit or consciousness, as that which is its own evidence, has a more than mathematic validity. When men purely love one another, and, with supreme loyalty, seek truth, ignorance and delusion will melt away before the encroaching illumination from God, and the dominion of death will be abolished.
That the human mind shall be the victim of death is incongruous with its rank. The atheistic scientist who imagines that the energy of the stellar creation is gradually dissipating, so that the whole scheme must at last perish; and who sees the soul, then, like a belated butterfly, fall frozen on the boundary of a dead universe, refutes his own dismal creed by the grandeur of the power shown in thinking it. The might of love, the faculty of thought, the instinct of curiosity, are insatiable; and that which remains wooing them to grasp it, is infinite. And, after all is said, it seems certain that we are either discerpted emanations and avatars of God suffering transient incarnations for a purpose, and then to be resumed, immortal in his immortality; or else we are separate and inherent entities, immortal in ourselves. The former faith ought to satisfy the proudest ambition. The latter faith yields every motive for contentment and aspiring obedience. Man, forever feeding on the unknown, is the mysterious guest of God in the universe. We cannot believe that, the hospitality of the infinite Housekeeper becoming exhausted, He will ever blow out the lights and quench the guests.
CHAPTER VI.
THE TRANSIENT AND THE PERMANENT IN THE DESTINY OF MAN.
A COMPANION of Solomon once said to him, "Give me, O king of wisdom, a maxim equally applicable on all occasions, that I may fortify myself with it against the caprices of fortune." Solomon reflected a moment, then gave him, in these words, the maxim he sought: "This, too, shall pass away." The courtier at first felt disappointed, but, meditating awhile, perceived the pertinent and profound meaning hidden in the transparent simplicity of the words. Are you afflicted? Be not despondent or rash, This, too, shall pass away. Are you blessed? Be not elated or careless, This too shall pass away. Are you in danger? in temptation? in glory? Still, for your proper guidance, in relation to each one, remember; This too shall pass away. And so on, under every diversity of situation in which man can be placed. Whatever restraint, whatever encouragement, whatever consolation he needs, it is all contained in the profound thought, This too shall pass away.
This maxim for all times needs to be supplemented by a corresponding maxim for all persons. There is a truth constantly suited for the variety of immortal souls, as the foregoing one is for the variety of temporal changes. Let us see what that truth is and set it in a fitting aphorism.
The desires of the human soul are boundless. Nothing can satisfy its wishes by fulfilling them and circumscribing there a fixed limit. It would devour the whole creation, and hungrily cry for more. Whatever extension of power or fruition it can conceive, it wants for its own, and frets if deprived of it. Now, if the spirit of the Creator is in the creature, this illimitable passion of acquisition cannot be a mere mockery. It must be a hint of the will of God and of the destiny of his child in whom He has implanted it. It is prophetic of something awaiting fulfillment. But what is the prophecy, and how is it to be fulfilled? The answer to this question will give us that maxim of eternal humanity which accords with the maxim of transient fortune. And thus it reads: Over all the things for which men struggle with each other, there is one thing, out of the sphere of struggle, which indivisibly belongs to every man, and that one thing is the whole universe! Be not baffled by the appearance of transcendental mysticism in this maxim, as the ancient inquirer was by the appearance of commonplace in his, but seek its significance.
A son is an heir of his father. All men are sons of God, though only a few, and that in varying degree, are distinctly conscious as yet of their sonship. But, despite their ignorance, all are tending, more or less swiftly, toward the goal of their nature and inheritance.
There are exclusive prizes which men can monopolize: and they fight with one another for these, because the more some have the less others can obtain. There are also inclusive prizes, or modes of holding and enjoying property which do not interfere with universal participation, with universal, undivided ownership. In these no one need have any the less because every one has all. This is the region of reason, imagination, affection, the empire of the soul. The more one knows of mathematical truth, poetic beauty or moral good, the easier it is, not the harder, for others to know and enjoy as much or more. In this divine domain no monopoly or conflict is possible, because the outward moving fence of each consciousness, retreating and vanishing before its conquests of experience, is a vacuum with respect to that of every other. They overlap and penetrate one another as if they were mutually nonexistent. For example, the pleasure any one takes in a picture, or in a play, does not lessen the pleasure which remains for the other spectators; but, on the contrary, adds to it if they have sympathy.