In proportion as the Sūfī loves God, he sees God in all His creatures, and goes forth to them in acts of charity. Pious works are naught without love. “Cheer one sad heart: thy loving deed will be More than a thousand temples raised by thee. One freeman whom thy kindness hath enslaved Outweighs by far a thousand slaves set free.” The Moslem _Legend of the Saints_ abounds in tales of pity shown to animals (including the despised dog), birds, and even insects. It is related that Bāyazīd purchased some cardamom seed at Hamadhān, and before departing put into his gaberdine a small quantity which was left over. On reaching Bistām and recollecting what he had done, he took out the seed and found that it contained a number of ants. Saying, “I have carried the poor creatures away from their home,” he immediately set off and journeyed back to Hamadhān--a distance of several hundred miles. This universal charity is one of the fruits of pantheism. The ascetic view of the world which prevailed amongst the early Sūfīs, and their vivid consciousness of God as a transcendent Personality rather than as an immanent Spirit, caused them to crush their human affections relentlessly. Here is a short story from the life of Fudayl ibn ʿIyād. It would be touching if it were not so edifying. “One day he had in his lap a child four years old, and chanced to give it a kiss, as is the way of fathers. The child said, ‘Father, do you love me?’ ‘Yes,’ said Fudayl. ‘Do you love God?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘How many hearts have you?’ ‘One.’ ‘Then,’ asked the child, ‘how can you love two with one heart?’ Fudayl perceived that the child’s words were a divine admonition. In his zeal for God he began to beat his head and repented of his love for the child, and gave his heart wholly to God.” The higher Sūfī mysticism, as represented by Jalāluddīn Rūmī, teaches that the phenomenal is a bridge to the Real. “Whether it be of this world or of that, Thy love will lead thee yonder at the last.” And Jāmī says, in a passage which has been translated by Professor Browne: “Even from earthly love thy face avert not, Since to the Real it may serve to raise thee. Ere A, B, C are rightly apprehended, How canst thou con the pages of thy Koran? A sage (so heard I), unto whom a student Came craving counsel on the course before him, Said, ‘If thy steps be strangers to love’s pathways, Depart, learn love, and then return before me! For, shouldst thou fear to drink wine from Form’s flagon, Thou canst not drain the draught of the Ideal. But yet beware! Be not by Form belated: Strive rather with all speed the bridge to traverse. If to the bourne thou fain wouldst bear thy baggage, Upon the bridge let not thy footsteps linger.’” Emerson sums up the meaning of this where he says: