That is the destiny of all such men, As do approach the world by thought alone. The spirit's voice dwells deep in every soul. Nor have we strength to pierce the covering That spreads itself before our faculties. Thought doth bring knowledge of things temporal, Of things that vanish in the course of time: The everlasting and all spirit-truth Are found but in the inner depths of man. STRADER: If, then, the fruitage of a pious faith Is able to give rest to weary souls, Such souls may wander safely in that path, And find sufficiency within themselves. And yet the power of knowledge, pure and true, Doth never bloom on such a path as this. THEODOSIUS: Yet there can be no other way to light True spirit-knowledge in the hearts of men. Pride may seduce and change to fantasies The soul's true depths of feeling, and may see A vision only where faith's beauty lies. One thing alone of all we here have heard From spirit-teaching of the higher worlds, Strikes clear upon our honest human sense: That only in the spirit-world itself The soul can feel itself in its true home. THE OTHER MARIA: So long as man feels need of speech alone, And nought besides, so long such words as these May satisfy him: but the fuller life With all its strife, its yearnings after joy, And all its sorrow, needeth other food To nourish and sustain the fainting soul. For me, an inner voice did drive me on To spend all the remaining days of life Which were allotted me, in helping those Whom stress of destiny had smitten down And plunged in deepest poverty and need. And far more oft I found it necessary To soothe the anguish of the soul of man Than heal his body's pain and suffering. But I have felt indeed in many ways My will's weak impotence to comfort men. So that I am compelled to seek fresh strength From out the treasured store which floweth forth Abundantly from spirit-sources here. The quickening warmth of words which greet mine ear, Flows forth with magic force into my hands; And thence, like healing balsam, forth again, When those hands touch some sorrow-laden soul. It changeth on my lips to strengthening words Which carry comfort unto pain-racked hearts. The source of words like these I do not ask; I feel their truth--they give me living life. And every day more clearly do I see, That they derive their strength not from my will In all its weakness, but create anew Myself each day unto myself again. CAPESIUS: Yet surely there are men enough on earth Who, though they lack such revelation's aid, Perform innumerable deeds of good? MARIA: