"When I witness all the ravage Of my alphabetic lore, See the neolithic savage Waging culture-loving war, Using logarithmic tables To direct his hellish fire Preaching philosophic fables To excuse his mad desire; See pure science turned to choking, Shooting, drowning humankind; Hear a litany, invoking Hate in God's benignant mind; See the forest trees transmuted Into lettered pulp, while man With a brain deep-convoluted Takes the place of primal Pan, And instead of finding pleasure In a simple life, with song, Spends his planetary leisure Reading of a world gone wrong-- Seeing, hearing this, I've wondered 'Mid this murder, greed and fret, Whether I had sinned or blundered Giving man the alphabet." But when one becomes reflectively conscious of what the world's literature has added to the few sentences upon Enoch's pillars, beginning with the Book of Books, the one book that man cannot be without, one has a reassuring answer for Cadmus. Indeed, I found it myself in the Christian literature that was collected in a city just north of Tyre and Sidon, awaiting the end of the war, for its scattering throughout all that region on whose edge the pillars once stood (as I have seen the columns of old Heliopolis, the city once _so_ beloved of the sun that he hastened over the eastern hills to spend his cloudless days about it, and lingered upon the Lebanon Mountains as long as possible in the summer afternoon, reluctant to leave the sight of it). There has recently been published by a Princeton professor of biology an essay which would seem to intimate that great progress has not been made since those pillars were set up somewhere beyond the Euphrates; for his contention is that human evolution has reached its end; that for at least ten thousand years there has been no notable progress in the evolution of the human body, and that there has been no progress in the intellectual capacity of a man in the last two or three thousand years--that all we can do now is to lift the mass to the height of the most perfect individual. I cannot assent to this, for I see man upon his way from God to God, while summing the race that's been, _ever_ giving glimpses of a diviner grace than has evolved (or will, if we accept the teaching of the biologic mind that sees his evolution at an end)--than has evolved, _but_ will, for soul is bound to mould such body as its needs require to bear it toward the goal it seeks; else why were clay uplifted to this height if it can never reach the higher height, the image it would make of God in man?