in me is encompassed by God, and I feel Him in everything.
And this is not at all a play of words it is that by which I live.
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What is God? Wherefore God?
God is that unlimited all which I know within myself in a limited form. I am limited, God is infinite; I am a being which has lived sixty-three years, God lives eternally; I am a being which reasons within the limits of its understanding, God reasons without limit; I am a being which loves sometimes a little, God loves always infinitely. I am a part. He is all. I cannot understand myself otherwise than as a part of Him.
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Somehow, while praying to God, it became clear to me that God is indeed a real Being, Love,—is that All which I just touch, and which I experience in the form of love. And this is not a feeling, not an abstraction, but a real Being; and I have felt Him.
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All that I know, I know because there is a God, and because I know Him. Only upon this can one firmly base one's relations, both with other men and with oneself, as well as with life outside space and time. Not only do I not regard this as mystical, but
