these who walked by faith likewise gathered
themselves into great companies, and each company followed some leader.
Some of these leaders had the gift of woodcraft, and saw clearly into
the very nature of things. But some were only headstrong, and these
proved to be but blind leaders of the blind.

Then one said, "We must not be filled with our own conceit, but must
humbly imitate him. We must try to work as he worked; to rest as he
rested; to sleep as he slept. The deeds we do should be those he did,
and those only. For on his Chart he has told us, not the way he went
past rocks and trees, but the actions with which his days were filled."
Then those who tried to do as he had done, moved by his motives and
acting through his deeds, found the way wonderfully easy. The days and
the hours seemed all too short for the joy with which they were filled.

But, again, there were many who said that his directions were not
explicit enough. The Chart said so little. "That we may make no
mistake," they said, "we must gather ourselves in bands and choose
leaders. We cannot act as he acted unless there is some one to show us
how."

Thus it came to pass that leaders were chosen who could do everything
that he had done, in all respects, according to his method. And they
added to the Chart the record of their own practices--not only that "He
did thus and so," but also, "Thus and so he did not do." "Thus and
thus did he eat bread, and thus only. Thus and thus did he loose his
sandals. In this way only gave he bread and wine. Here on the way he
fasted; there he feasted. At this turn of the road he looked upward
thus, shading his eyes with his hand. Here he anointed his feet; there
his face wore a sad smile. Such was the cut of his coat; of this wood
was his staff; of such a number of words his prayer." And many were
comforted in the thought that for every turn in the road there was some
definite thing which he had done, and which they, too, might perform.

Thus the duties of every moment were fixed. But as the days went on
these duties grew more and more difficult. No one had time to look at
the rocks or trees; no one could cast his eyes over a noble prospect;
no one could stop to rest by the sweet fountains or in the refreshing
shadows. One could hardly give a moment to such things, lest he should
overlook some needful service.

Then many lost heart, and said that surely he cared not for times and
observances, els