Well, I say here lies Profounder truth and purer than the words That Jesus spoke. Let's take forgiveness: Forgive your enemies, he said, and bless Them even that hate you. What did Jesus do? Did he forgive the thief upon the cross, Who railed at him? He did forgive the hands Who crucified him, but he had a reason: They knew not what they did; well, as for that Who knows the thing he does? Did he forgive Judas Iscariot? Did he forgive Poor Peter by specific words? You see In instances like these the idealist, Passionate and inexorable who sets up His soul against the world, but do you see The esoteric wisdom which takes note Of the soul's health, just for the sake of health, And leaves the outward recompense alone? Yes, what has Jesus done but make a realm Of outward law and force to strain and bind The sons of men to this thing and to that, Bring the fanatic and the dogmatist In every neighborhood in America. And radical with axes after trees, And clergymen with curses on the fig trees? And even bring this Kaiser and his dream Of God's will in him to destroy his foes, And launch the war therefor, to make his realm And Christian culture paramount in time. When all the while 'tis clear life does not yield Proof positive of exoteric things. Why the great truth of life is this, I think: The soul has freedom to create its world Of beauty, truth, to make the world as truth Or beauty, build philosophies, religions, And live by them, through them. It does not matter Whether they're true, the significant thing is this: The soul has freedom to create, to take The void of unintelligible air, or thought The world at large, and of it make the food, Impulse and meaning for its life. I say Life is for nothing else, truth is not ours; That only ours which we create, by which We live and grow, and so we come again By this path of my own to India. What shall we do, you ask, if business dies, If the western world, the world for socialism Lops off its leaves and branches, and the sap Is thrown back in the trunk unused, or if This light upon the lotus quiets us And makes us mind entirely? Well, I say, Men have not lived, enjoyed enough before. Our strength has gone to get the means for strength. We roll the rock of business up, and see The rock roll down, and roll it up again. And if the new day does not give us work In finding what our minds are, how to use them, And how to live more beautifully, I miss A guess I often make. But now to close: Only the blind have failed to see how truly This Elenor Murray worked her Karma out. And how she put forth strength to cure her weakness, And went her vital way, and toiled and died. Peace to all worlds, and peace to Elenor Murray. * * * * *