O you who ask, know that wisdom ever in lowliness is found. It struteth not, neither does it clamor aloud to be seen; it is calm and needs not to be looked upon. It knoweth not the tread of clamorous feet, nor needs it the strut and the swagger that are born of traitorous doubts in its highness. The frontal of wisdom is ever made wide; it lifteth its brow to the Eye of Love and leaneth thereon for sustenance. Poor and naked is My child of love that knows not wisdom nor finds the path that leadeth thereto. Naked is he indeed and mistaken in aim and intent who seeketh with hungry eagerness that happiness, yet walketh through strange tracks and climbeth hills of sand that have no foundation for his feet to rest upon. He findeth but the roots of weeds that choke the flower of gladness. The growth of wisdom is not grown there; its footfall is light, it walketh abroad. Wisdom's countenance is fair and soft and good to look upon. It is embraced by love; it is linked to bliss and ecstasy, and he who hath found it thus will search ho more. He knoweth not change, and time by him, even as the plunderer sneaketh away from the king that is armed. In him the river of joy flows in wondrous majesty forever. He walks in My footsteps; he knows not space, and beholds the souls that tenant endless spheres. My smile he sees that is perpetual. Evil forever hath fallen from him; the stars innumerable are his to command, and the sun is the shining of his life. The beginning of all things he knoweth and the end everlasting he seeth. He readeth the light and the winds are his to understand. * * What am I? The smile of the new mother am I; the velvet corners of the maid of pure soul. Beautiful time am I that sitteth in silver on the brow of the aged one. Mercy's soft self am I that sweeteneth the eye where on it sitteth. The life of the shrub am I, the spontaneous outburst that bubbles from the heart and rings from the lips of the clamorous, bounding, growing boy. The illumination am I that reigns in the heart of the ascetic and makes light his dismal cell, even to rivalling the glare of the palace in hours of festivities; the potency of sympathy am I that meets in the handsclasp of high-hearted manhood. Know that all I give I receive, most open am I to him who draweth most deeply from My bounty. Oh, my tree of life shall reach from earth to heaven. * * Greeting to thee. My jewel! I came to take thee on a journey. I came to take thee with Me and show thee what it is to live. Until now thou hast known but the mockery of life, the life that breathes but to live that life, but to draw breath. Now, I will take thee where life is born, where life is lived, where life is loved; not lived for the living, but lived for the loving. * *