Out of the depths of fettered lives struggling with human problems constantly comes the cry, "What is the way out?" Yearningly the Psalmist exclaimed, "Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest;" and he adds further, "I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest. " What earth-bound heart has not felt the same inner urge, this impulse to fly away, to rise above materiality, to transcend the monotony of everyday existence with its fears, deceptions, and tragedies? This insatiable longing to fly upward—it is not strange, for has the world ever fulfilled our hopes and our dreams? Are we confident that if we had everything the world could give us we should be content? No! So long as our vision and our interests do not extend beyond the realm of sense-testimony, we are confined like birds in a cage, to limitations that would restrict the singing, soaring nature of spiritual individuality.
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