Again, O My children, to Me ye have come for light and wisdom; but still the doors of your souls unopened sire, or else you would partake of the wisdom and light I drop at your feet. Do you take of its warmth and its blessing, I ask it. The Love that you seek all-pervading is, of wonderful might and beautiful. A conqueror it is too. The root of all pleasure it is, the day of every soul. It teacheth the untutored heart, it winneth and quickeneth the dead and dull conscience. But he who knoweth my love remembereth the blessedness and blessings, and recognizeth not evil and darkness. But he who knoweth it not, doth forever dwell in the experience of darkness, and is a child of blindness even in his infancy. * * O ye outward-gazers, grossen not the beauty which I have clothed ye with, lest that which is noonday brightness become to thy blinded eyes but a dab of gray! My love is of perfect flowering, My love is of rare fragrance. My love is of wide expanding. A native plant of every soil it is, for from the root of Love it is sprung. * * The man that cometh from out of the ocean doth drip with brine. So ye who have come from out of My Belly of Love must forever hanker and pant as again of that Love you partake and know once more of its potency. * * My love is a giant of strength; my love is a new mother in gentleness. My love is all eloquent; my love is all lovely; my love is all wise. A ruler it is and ye are all servants. A winner it is, yet lowly its head is ever laid. All riches it is, yet it boasts not of gold, of silver or of precious jewels. All highest nobility it is, yet it rarely sitteth on the throne of kings or queens. * * Let not your outward-looking lure you aside to hunt wayward themes; but see to My gracious shedding smile of love that illuminates your universe within and brightens the world without, and those who look upon you shall marvel at the wonder of your glowing. And they, too, shall partake of that light. * * The rolling cloud is My breath; the frost and the feathery snow I jewel. The laughing fields, the peaceful valleys, the sleeping lakes and the dented hills are the throbs of My mighty breast. The beauty of the sun, the softness of shade, the color of the flowers, the rose of a baby's lips, the gold that lurks in the rich plumage of the swift-winged bird are but the light touches of my hands. * * Ye, O My children, are the gifts of My Love unto Myself. * * O My daughter, take that which is placed in your hand. Hurl not back the gift to the giver, lest you call it in vain,—you whose eyes do filmy seem because of their dulness. * * O My son, thy path is blessed and bright, for love you have brought to the heart that loved not. * * Oh thou My Beloved! About thee a halo I do create. Thy path is made smooth of thy humility. Thy gratitude enricheth thy heart. * * Glory to Gooroo who knoweth Love as the sovereign of all creation and therefore beholdeth its glory. * *