The seed sown twenty years ago has taken root, and has now become a tree. Already birds of ill-omen, as well as of promise, seek to lodge in its branches, and clamor for its fruit. It is the "Tree of Life," and no flaming sword is there to destroy those who seek its shelter and support. Angels, however, guard tree and fruit. There is no night there, and the atmosphere is pure and elevating. There is but one of its kind, and it cannot be robbed of its seed to plant another. Every effort in that direction is unholy, and will never succeed.
It stands no holy heights, and those who approach take off their shoes in reverence and awe. Self must be immolated, and material burdens laid aside in order to attain the summit of the Mount. It is a strait and narrow way, and the slightest deviation into the by-ways of error, which are many at the base, prolongs the ascent. The mighty atmosphere of personal sense departs in this upward journey, and the bright effulgence of eternal Light breaks upon the vision of the approaching traveller.
There are crucibles all along the way, and only the pure metal remains after the fiery tests. He who commences the journey and then retraces his steps, will have more to meet than he who looks up and walks on, desirous only of reaching the summit, encouraging his fellow-travellers on their way, lightening their burdens, making psalms of their thoughts, and proclaiming the Light which to them seems afar off. He who gains a little ray, and then returns to discourage others, has committed a sin for which he must suffer the full penalty. He who has had a glimpse of the Light, and then denies it to a brother, keeping him in darkness, must suffer for that brother's blindness.
