cent structure, adds pieces of statuary at suitable points and in such a way that they serve not only as ornaments, but also as bearers or supports, so the Master at times introduced a pleasing and ingenious parable, conscious that by such means the veiled meaning of many a profound utterance becomes clear.
Finally, however, he summed the whole up, and at the same time, as it were, covered the building in by placing upon it a resplendent, far-seen dome, in the words: "By attachment to existence, O pilgrim, thou comest into existence; lacking such attachment thou dost not come into existence."
And in the monk, who is nowhere held fast by his affections, there grows amid the unclouded cheerfulness of inward peace this perception—"that now is his salvation sure, that this is the last birth of all, that there will be no new existence beyond."
The monk who has come thus far is rewarded with this highest wisdom. And this, O pilgrim, is the highest, holiest wisdom—"to know that all suffering is ended." He who has found it has found a freedom which stands true and inviolable. For that is false, O pilgrim, which is vain and fleeting; and that is true which is real and permanent, the end of all delusion.
And he who from the very beginning was subject to birth, to the changes of age, and to death, has now, marking well the balefulness of this law of Nature, won for himself the safety that knows no birth, no age, no death. He who was subject to sickness, to impurity, to sin, has now reached the assurance that knows no change, that is pure and holy—
"I am saved and my salvation is within me; my life is ended, my work done, this world exists for me no longer."
