ts the stigmata. All God's lonely ones are the reflections of His
pain when they attain to sanctity. And holy priests are the
reflections of His Hands. Little children and saints may look into His
Eyes and see their own. And repentant sinners may reflect His Feet in
their tears. All the births and lives of the earth go to form His
Human Body, which is vast as Eternity and radiating with Light from
all points and inward to the Heart of Light. To some saints it has
been permitted to be the spouse of this body and soul. Magic is white
or black. White magic is the offspring of spiritual marriage and is a
sacrament. Black magic is the offspring of unauthorized spiritual
contacts. My frame tonight is possessed by angels dancing before the
throne in a fearfully rapid rhythm. The secret of spiritual
achievement is unremitting labor urged without ceasing by a fearful
joy. No drama is more vast than that of the crucifixion, and yet I
have seen it all in the heart of a strawberry blossom with wounds all
glorified in an ecstasy of living trembling light, and heard the
beating of His Sacred Heart while universe called out to universe in
the anguish of His surrender and all the stars died into the Light of
Eternity. The tide has turned.

August 5.

Today looking into a narrow dome I saw the seeded planets banded by
circles of light whereon they turned. And color changed into silence
at the bidding of the central suns. And these were the eyes of happy
innocence wherein all others died to the Living Light, God being in
them by their childishness. The tide turned yesterday, and today I
have spent entirely in eternity surrounded by a host of fair-winged
Possibilities, God's angels to humanity. Death is glorified by their
passage from the future to the past, and we respond by plunging our
lights into the Light wherein it dies. _Abt Vogler_ is the musical
philosophy of it all. At my first symphony concert as a little boy, I
saw the face of the dying Christ through the wall, and in it the music
of the seventh Symphony sang through the naked eyes calling me inward
to the Sacred Heart. This morning and noon at table I smiled at white
horizons and in the evening I swam through the Host on my future
wings. We love earth, air, fire, and water now, but the eternal joy of
swimming through the Light of God and reflecting His Light in song and
silence is the infinity of all poets' dreams incarnate in the awful
speed of Absolute Music. It is th