into active joy, finding the Kingdom where trial cannot come. When wilt thou learn thy lessons, O child of earth! All thy sorrows cry out against thee; every pain is thy just accuser, and thy griefs are but the shadows of thy unworthy and perishable self. The Kingdom of Heaven is thine; how long wilt thou reject it, preferring the lurid atmosphere of hell—the hell of thy self-seeking self?
Where self is not there is the Garden of the Heavenly Life, and
“There spring the healing streams
Quenching all thirst! there bloom the immortal flowers
Carpeting all the way with joy! there throng
Swiftest and sweetest hours!”
The redeemed sons of God, the glorified in body and spirit, are bought with a price, and that price is the crucifixion of the personality, the death of self; having put away that within which is the source of all discord, they have found the universal Music, the abiding Joy.
Life is more than motion, it is music; more than rest, it is Peace; more than work, it is Duty; more than labor, it is
