rocedure for society to wish to deprive him of
that which is adapted to his nature--since it ought to comprise this
also within its limits, and hence some one must needs possess it?

[Illustration: THE THREE HERMITS Moritz Von Schwind]

And to what end should it desire to cultivate those who are yet
strangers to religion? Its own especial characteristic--the Infinite
Whole--of course it cannot impart to them; and the communication of
any specific element cannot be accomplished by the Whole, but only by
individuals. But perhaps then, the Universal, the Indeterminate,
which might be presented, when we seek that which is common to all
the members? Yet you are aware that, as a general rule, nothing can be
given or communicated, in the form of the Universal and Indeterminate,
for specific object and precise form are requisite for this purpose;
otherwise, in fact, that which is presented would not be a reality but
a nullity. Such a society, accordingly, can never find a measure or
rule for this undertaking.

And how could it so far abandon its sphere as to engage in this
enterprise? The need on which it is founded, the essential principle
of religious sociability, points to no such purpose. Individuals unite
with one another and compose a Whole; the Whole rests in itself,
and needs not to strive for anything beyond. Hence, whatever is
accomplished in this way for religion is the private affair of the
individual for himself, and, if I may say so, more in his relations
out of the church than in it. Compelled to descend to the low grounds
of life from the circle of religious communion, where the mutual
existence and life in God afford him the most elevated enjoyment and
where his spirit, penetrated with holy feelings, soars to the highest
summit of consciousness, it is his consolation that he can connect
everything with which he must there be employed, with that which
always retains the deepest significance in his heart. As he descends
from such lofty regions to those whose whole endeavor and pursuit
are limited to earth, he easily believes--and you must pardon him the
feeling--that he has passed from intercourse with Gods and Muses to a
race of coarse barbarians. He feels like a steward of religion among
the unbelieving, a herald of piety among the savages; he hopes, like
an Orpheus or an Amphion, to charm the multitude with his heavenly
tones; he presents himself among them, like a priestly form, clearly
and brightly exhibi