Page:The Collected Works of Theodore Parker Discourse volume 1.djvu/145

98 the mountain top of Life and wonders at the tortuous track he left behind.

Shall it be said that Religion is the great refinement of the world; its tranquil star that never sets? Need it be told that all Nature works in its behalf; that every mute and every living thing seems to repeat God's voice, Be perfect; that Nature, which is the out-ness of God, favours Religion, which is the in-ness of Man, and so God works with us? Heathens knew it many centuries ago. It has long been known that Religion—in its true estate—created the deepest welfare of Man. Socrates, Seneca, Plutarch, Antoninus, Fenelon can tell us this. It might well be so. Religion comes from what is strongest, deepest, most beautiful and divine; lays no rude hand on soul or sense; condemns no faculty as base. It sets no bounds to Reason but Truth; none to Affection but Love; none to Desire but Duty; none to the Soul but Perfection; and these are not limits, but the charter of infinite freedom.

No doubt there is joy in the success of earthly schemes. There is joy to the miser as he satiates his prurient palm with gold: there is joy for the fool of fortune when his gaming brings a prize. But what is it? His request is granted; but leanness enters his soul. There is delight in feasting on the bounties of Earth, the garment in which God veils the brightness of his face; in being filled with the fragrant loveliness of flowers; the song of birds; the hum of bees; the sounds of ocean; the rustle of the summer wind, heard at evening in the pine tops; in the cool running brooks; in the majestic sweep of undulating hills; the grandeur of untamed forests; the majesty of the mountain; in the morning's virgin beauty, in the maternal grace of evening, and the sublime and mystic pomp of night. Nature's silent sympathy—how beautiful it is!

There is joy, no doubt there is joy, to the mind of Genius, when thought bursts on him as the tropic sun rending a cloud; when long trains of ideas sweep through his soul, like constellated orbs before an angel's eye; when sublime thoughts and burning words rush to the heart; when Nature unveils her secret truth, and some great Law breaks, all at once, upon a Newton's mind, and chaos ends in light; when the hour of his inspiration and the joy of his genius