Yet we walk unheld, free, the whole earth over, journeying up and down till we make our ineffaceable mark upon time and the diverse eras,
Till we saturate time and eras, that the men and women of races, ages to come, may prove brethren and lovers as we are.[1]
His pity for those who have sinned, his love for all men, even the humblest and most despised of men, his Franciscan praise of death—all these are truly Christian sentiments. And though Walt Whitman was never enrolled among the members of any church, we may count him without hesitation among the disciples and the followers of Christ.
Even less can one question the depth of his religious understanding. He believed not only in bodies, but in
Identities now doubtless near us in the air that we know not of.[2]
He believed firmly in the future life. He maintained that the body cannot die,[3] and that no one can ever suffer annihilation:
Have you guess’d you yourself would not continue?
Have you dreaded these earth-beetles?
Have you fear’d the future would be nothing to you?
Is today nothing? is the beginningless past nothing?
If the future is nothing they are just as surely nothing.[4]
