ngs, our system may have
dragged us through and through the spaces, where we plant cities of
beryl and jasper. Even now, we may be inhaling the ether, which we
fancy seraphic wings are fanning. But look round. There is much to be
seen here, and now. Do the archangels survey aught more glorious than
the constellations we nightly behold? Continually we slight the
wonders, we deem in reserve. We await the present. With marvels we are
glutted, till we hold them no marvels at all. But had these
eyes first opened upon all the prodigies in the Revelation of the
Dreamer, long familiarity would have made them appear, even as these
things we see. Now, _now_, the page is out-spread: to the simple, easy
as a primer; to the wise, more puzzling than hieroglyphics. The
eternity to come, is but a prolongation of time present: and the
beginning may be more wonderful than the end.

"'Then let us be wise. But much of the knowledge we seek, already we
have in our cores. Yet so simple it is, we despise it; so bold, we
fear it.

"'In solitude, let us exhume our ingots. Let us hear our own thoughts.
The soul needs no mentor, but Oro; and Oro, without proxy. Wanting
Him, it is both the teacher and the taught. Undeniably, reason was the
first revelation; and so far as it tests all others, it has precedence
over them. It comes direct to us, without suppression or
interpolation; and with Oro's indisputable imprimatur. But inspiration
though it be, it is not so arrogant as some think. Nay, far too
humble, at times it submits to the grossest indignities. Though in its
best estate, not infallible; so far as it goes, for us, it is
reliable. When at fault, it stands still. We speak not of visionaries.
But if this our first revelation stops short of the uttermost, so with
all others. If, often, it only perplexes: much more the rest. They
leave much unexpounded; and disclosing new mysteries, add to the
enigma. Fellow-men; the ocean we would sound is unfathomable; and
however much we add to our line, when it is out, we feel not the
bottom. Let us be truly lowly, then; not lifted up with a Pharisaic
humility. We crawl not like worms; nor wear we the liveries of angels.

"'The firmament-arch has no key-stone; least of all, is man its prop.
He stands alone. We are every thing to ourselves, but how little to
others. What are others to us? Assure life everlasting to this
generation, and their immediate forefathers--and what tears would
flow, were there no