III.

ABSOLUTE BEING AND THE HIGHER

SELF.

THERE are times when it seems the height of audacity to speak for the Highest. On the other hand, it is infinitely unkind to the source of our being to leave it out of account. The poorest fact is inadequately stated, our thought lacks all connection and meaning, if we neglect the one essential without which there would be no facts and no thoughts. At times, too, one is fairly possessed by a vision of the glory and beauty of divine communion; and, let words fail as they may, one must be true to this sublimest experience of the soul. And if the vision is true, if there really is but one life, one power and wisdom inclusive of all existence, of all that we think and do, it is not we alone who speak; but the great God uses us as instruments to declare himself to each according to the state of receptivity. If the instrument is small and makes little impression by itself, so much the better, if only the consciousness be turned not toward that, but toward the larger harmony which its lowly music suggests. The finite is nothing by itself:

the infinite is everything through all that is finite. It is the greatest art of our human life to lay ourselves most fully aside, that wisdom and love and goodness may be manifested through us; and this supreme office will be fulfilled in each of us if we understand the true nature and dignity of the higher self.

The term "higher self" I shall therefore use to denote the revelation of God in the finite soul, the instrument through which he speaks. It is not all of God, it is not merely human, but is that measure of the perfect which the imperfect can apprehend. This discussion of it is not so much intended to show why there must be such relationship of finite and infinite as to make this occasion a living, present, helpful realization of its existence in each of us here and now. For you already believe what this poor tribute of mine aims to suggest. The words are not, therefore, of as much importance as that which leads me to utter them, the living presence without which even these hesitant witnesses of its power would be impossible.

If, then, you will observe certain conditions during the lecture, the problem of spiritual selfhelp will be so much the easier. That is, let each one open the mind inwardly to the indwelling spirit, become receptive in soul, that we may realize the divine presence together. Then in the future, when you are in need of help, if you will return in thought

to this occasion, and recall your experience at this time, you will have a starting-point, a means of refreshing the thought on the highest plane. Peace, then let us be inwardly still. Let us realize what it means to be a part of infinite life, to have a higher self,—first through a consideration of our problem from the intellectual point of view, then from the spiritual plane.

As we look over the world of nature and contemplate the varied complex and wonderful experiences in the realm of mind, or consider the long ages of the past as described by writers of history and science, the most noticeable fact in the long series of events thus recalled is the constant change which everywhere prevails. Massive mountain walls and the sea present the same general appearance for ages, and there is a certain apparent permanence in all large masses of matter in nature. Yet, when we examine the minute structure of things, we find that everywhere there is gradual change, upbuilding and disintegration, growth, modification, and decay. Nothing is really stable, and the great question concerning it all is, Is there some element in it which shall endure all change? This longing for some permanent amidst the fleeting is one of the first demands of human reason; and in early Greece, as elsewhere, it is one of the first indications of philosophical speculation.

Evidences of system are surely not lacking in the steady flow of this great river of change. At large and in detail, within the mind and without, nature everywhere overwhelms us with signs of intelligence, in the revolution of the planets, the stages of organic evolution, the adjustment of the organic to the inorganic kingdoms, the alternation of the seasons, the development of physical man, and the wonderful perceptive faculty, or mind, of man, which enables him to observe and appreciate all this. It is almost axiomatic to affirm that this ceaseless change in one great system must have an efficient cause, an indwelling life, and a substantial basis; for we know that the universe could not have sprung from nothing, nor could anything new appear except through a transformation of the old. Yet the mere concept of cause, of continuous time, of pre-existing matter and motion, does not carry us far, and, when closely examined, fails to satisfy. Even if we turn backward in thought to a far-away past, where all this wonderful universe may once have existed as a mere possibility amidst unformed substance and undirected energy, the process is still in the realm of time, and we have made no headway. Cause, motion, progress, development,all these are terms of time-they suggest nothing permanent, abiding. One may, therefore, as well look for permanency here and now as in the fardistant past, since the pursuit of causation is simply

an endless task. For, if we start with the merest event, such as the ticking of the clock, and seek its cause, we find that every cause is the effect of some antecedent cause, and that of some older cause, and so on forever, until we have upon our hands an entire universe of interacting forces bound together by this great law. And the concept of God as ultimate cause throws little light on the real problem, since it is the basis of causation itself of which we are truly in search, not the mere creator, but also the sustainer, the life, the changeless and uncaused, without which the infinite causal series could not be. We must then find some more satisfactory concept than that of cause.

This profounder basis of life will be apparent if we look more closely at the phenomena of nature as they exist to-day. So far as we know, objects in nature are not simply made, and then the model laid aside never to be used again; but certain chemical substances always and everywhere assume the crystalline form when they solidify. Trees of a given species everywhere develop the same general appearance; and, despite all change and decay, the idea, or type, remains. Everywhere there is a tendency to reach a type which at once removes the being as a whole out of the realm of mere time and place. In humanity there is evidently a type as instinctive and persistent as that of the crystal,—— a type which we are all seeking to realize, physi