Each night Thou settest free the soul from trap of flesh, To scan and learn the hidden records of Thy wish. Each night the soul is like a bird from cage set free, To wander. Judge and judgment, then, it does not see. By night the pris’ner loses sense of bars, of chains; By night the monarch knows no state, no pomp retains; The merchant counts no more, in sleep, his gains and loss; The prince and peasant, equal, on their couches toss. The Gnostic is so e’en by day, when wide awake; For God hath said: “Let quietude care of him take.” Asleep to all the things of earth by night, by day, As pen in writer’s hand he doth his guide obey.— Of this, the Gnostic’s privilege, a trace’d suffice To rob of sleep and reason vulgar souls of ice. His spirit wanders in the groves of th’ absolute. His soul is easy; body, still, calm, quiet, mute.— In sleep thou bearest no burden; borne thou art, instead. * * * * * Know then, thy sleep’s a foretaste of what is to come, From the rapt state of saints arriving at their home. The saints were well prefigured by the “Sleeper’s Seven,” “Their sleep,” “their stretchings,” “their awaking” lead to heaven.— Each night, in profound sleep our consciousness sinks, Becomes non-existent;—waves on seashore’s brinks.— The body’s a cage and a thorn to the soul. Hence, seldom are body and soul wholly whole.— Both men and fairies pris’ners are in earthly cage.— If lifted could be from our souls the dark veil, Each word of each soul would with miracles trail.— The soul unto the flesh is joined, by God’s decree, That it may be afflicted,—trials made to see.— Th’ Infinites’ lovers finite’s worshippers are not Who seek the finite lose th’ Infinite, as we wot, When finite with the finite falls in love, perforce, His loved one soon returns to her infinite source.— In non-existence mirrored, being we may see;— Annihilate thy darksome self,—thy being’s pall. Let thy existence in God’s essence be enrolled, As copper in alchemists’ bath is turned to gold. Quit “I” and “We,” which o’er thy heart exert control. ’Tis egotism, estranged from God, that clogs thy soul.— Discharge thyself of every particle of self; So shalt thou see thyself pure, free from soil of pelf. Within thy heart thou’lt see the wisdom of the saints, Without a book, a teacher, or professor’s plaints.— Thyself * * purge of self. Abstraction thou shalt gain.— Both love and soul are occult, hidden and concealed.— A lover’s whole life is but self-sacrifice;