This Mystic League is bold to make the claim That it alone must ever guide mankind: It proves thereby what small account it takes Of all that can be won for man's true weal Just by sound commonsense, for we may say That 'tis now proved that nature and the soul Can be explained as things mechanical. And 'tis indeed a check to all free thought That doctor Strader with so clear a brain, Should countenance this mystic fallacy. Who thus doth master powers mechanical Should not indeed lack insight, and we know That ere we gain true knowledge of the soul All mystic leanings needs must be destroyed. Yet this false science, which Thomasius Is giving forth today to all the world, Enables e'en extreme sagacity To reconcile itself with wildest dreams, When once it falls a victim to that snare. If through strict training in the way of thought, Most natural to man, Thomasius Had for this work of his prepared himself, Instead of studying the mystic art, He might have plucked full many a noble fruit From wisdom's tree through his own inborn gifts. Instead of which upon the way he chose Naught but disastrous error could occur. No doubt the brotherhood may like to think Such error can be turned to their account. It finds acceptance, since it seeks to show That science now hath giv'n souls strong proof Of knowledge only found in dreams before. GEORGE CANDID: That it is possible to speak such words As we have just been forced with pain to hear, Shows clearly how that insight which flows forth From spirit-life hath scarce indeed begun To grow at all 'midst all our modern thoughts. Turn your eyes backward o'er the flight of time And see what things lived in the souls of men Before the science which is now in flower Was even able to reveal its seed. Then you will find that this same Mystic League Doth but today fulfil a work which then Was traced beforehand in the cosmic scheme. We had to wait until Thomasius Had finished this great work he had in hand. The way is new by which the spirit-light Illuminates through him the souls of men. And yet this light did ever work in all That men have dared to make upon the Earth. But where, then, was the source of all this light Which, tho' souls knew it not, could shine so clear? We find all signs point to the mystic art, Which dwelt in secret consecrated shrines, Before mankind let reason be its guide. The Spirit League which now hath called us here Will gladly let the mystic light stream forth On that bold work, which out of human thought Strives to perfection in the spirit-world. And we, who, in this hour so big with fate, May stay awhile on consecrated ground, Shall be the first who, uninitiate, Shall see the torch of God from spirit-heights