“Behold the mighty earth! It is the body of Ymir, the world-giant from whom all strength proceeds—its rushing streams his blue veins; its iron and brass his sinews; yet all is barren, bare, and empty till heaven’s bright sun-rays stream upon it from afar. Then springs the grass; fair blossoms deck the verdant meadows, and fresh leaves, the trees; the swelling buds burst forth; all nature breathes new life from the abundant earth. Thus is it with man’s strength: it yields naught but blessing when transfigured by the heavenly rays of virtue. “What the sun is to the earth, was Balder to Valhalla. His pure soul was the gem that fastened the wreath divine. When, slain by evil Loke, he descended to pale Hel’s realm, Odin’s wisdom straight began to languish, and the strength of mighty Thor to dwindle; the prisoned forces of evil, once mastered by the gods, stirred in their abysses; the dragon Nidhögg gnawed at the roots of the Tree of Life, and its leafy crown fast withered. Again the war broke out ’twixt good and evil—the strife that through all creation still endures. “This is but the emblem of what passes in every human breast. Hast thou forgotten, my son, those days when Balder dwelt within thy spirit? Pure then was every thought and feeling, thy whole life glad as a woodland songster’s dream. In every child does Balder reappear; in each that is born doth Hel restore her victim. “But in each soul is also found the blind god Höder. Evil is ever born blind, like the bear-cub; in darkness it enwraps itself, while good goes clad in shining robes of light. Loke still creepeth busily about to guide the hand of murder; with Balder dies the strength of heart and spirit, and anew the struggle in man’s breast begins. Virtue sits hopeless mid the shadows, as the fair god in the darkness of the underworld.