I wish I could describe the scene which took place, so that you could see it with the eyes of your imagination. There lay the man at our feet, his face colourless and expressionless, and above him towered the splendid form of the Teacher, his face beautiful with power, his eyes brilliant with thought. “Can you not see,” asked the Teacher, “a faint light surrounding this seemingly lifeless figure?” “Yes, but the light is very faint indeed.” “Nevertheless,” said the Teacher, “that light is far less faint than is this weak soul’s hold upon the eternal truth. But where you see only a pale light around the recumbent form, I see in that light many pictures of the soul’s past. I see that he not only denied the immortality of the soul’s consciousness, but that he taught his doctrine of death to other men and made them even as himself. Truly he does not deserve that I should try to awaken him!” “Yet you will do it?” “Yes, I will do it.” I regret that I am not permitted to tell you by what form of words and by what acts my Teacher succeeded, after a mighty effort, in arousing that man from his self-imposed imitation of annihilation. I realised as never before--not only the personal power of the Teacher, but the irresistible power of a trained and directed will. I thought of that scene recorded in the New Testament, where Jesus said to the dead man in the tomb, “Lazarus, come forth!” “The soul of man is immortal,” declared the Teacher, looking fixedly into the shrinking eyes of the awakened man and holding them by his will. “The soul of man is immortal,” he repeated. Then in a tone of command: “Stand up!” The man struggled to his feet. Though his body was light as a feather, as are all our bodies here, I could see that his slumbering energy was still almost too dormant to permit of that really slight exertion. “You live,” declared the Teacher. “You have passed through death, and you live. Do not dare to deny that you live. You cannot deny it.” “But I do not believe----” began the man, his stubborn materialism still challenging the truth of his own existence, his memory surviving the ordeal through which he had passed. This last surprised me more than anything else. But after a moment’s stupefaction I understood that it was the power of the Teacher’s mental picture of the astral records round this soul which had forced those memories to awaken. “Sit down between us two,” said the Teacher to the newly aroused man, “and let us reason together. You thought yourself a great reasoner, did you not, when you walked the earth as So-and-so?” “I did.” “You see that you were mistaken in your reasoning,” the Teacher went on, “for you certainly passed through death, and you are now alive.” “But where am I?” He looked about him in a bewildered way. “Where am I, and who are you?” “You are in eternity,” replied the Teacher, “where you always have been and always will be.” “And you?” “I am one who knows the workings of the Law.” “What law?”