Sometimes there is for the mystics a partaking of these lesser "wayside sacraments," sometimes a turning aside from their symbols; sometimes the old song of life in the lower creation awakens singing, sometimes it scarcely is heard. But always the _spirit_ of nature's signs as interpreted in Man, above all in Christ, lays its claim on the soul; always as sung by the chorus of human spirits that live on the "Righteousness, Peace, and Joy" of the Will of God, the New Song of Life through Death has in it a summons and receives from one and another here, passing through much tribulation, its fuller concord of human achievement, or at least the desirous _Amen_. So whether the mystic dwell much or little with the sights and sounds of sense, those things that are seen and heard by the _soul_ bear to him the command of his home, and the merest doorway glimpses, the echoes most distant, making their proffer of more and more within and beyond, say _Come_. "I give you the end of a golden string: Only wind it into a ball, It will lead you in at Heaven's Gate, Built in Jerusalem wall."[4] (Although this "following on to know," this winding of the truth caught hold of into a "perfect round" of thought and will and life, is probably not more easy for the mystics than for other people. "Amore, amor, tu sei cerchio rotondo!"[5]) God is in all; but "our soul may never have rest in things that are beneath itself" (lxvii.). "Well I wot," says Julian, "that heaven and earth and all that is made is great and large, fair and good," yet "all that is made" is seen as a little thing, the size of a hazel nut, held in the palm of her hand, when along with it her spiritual sight beholds the Maker. And though we may find the Maker in all things, we find Him, both as Maker and Restorer, first and best, First and Last, in the soul. There He is _Alpha_, there _Omega_. "It is readier to us to come to the knowing of God than to know our own Soul" (in its fullest powers). "For our soul is so deep-grounded in God and so endlessly treasured, that we may not come to the knowing thereof till we have first knowing of God, which is the Maker, to whom it is oned." And yet, "we may never come to full knowing of God till we know first clearly our own soul" (lvi.). The knowledge begins with God, but it begins with Him in the lowest place of the soul rescued from sin by mercy and entered by grace. "For Himself is nearest and meekest, highest and lowest, and doeth all" (lxxx.). To the soul that looks on Christ a remembrance rises of its own "fair nature" made in His image; yet "our Lord of His mercy sheweth us our sin and our feebleness by the sweet gracious light of Himself" (lxxviii.). Thus in the working of grace the soul comes to the knowledge both of its higher and lower parts. For in finding in itself both a natural response to the working of grace by its love and its longing after God, and a contrariness to the