The Enchanted Valley.
IxurtjanM Halbg
A Series of Three Sermonettes That
Have Helped Me to Understand
Life, Death and Destiny
BY
CHARLES H. CONNER
Truth is not always palatable; but, as a medicine,
it is good for what ails you
A
PUBLISHED BY
CHARLES H. CONNER
1016 S, Cleveland Ave.
Philadelphia
Copyright 1917
by
CHARLES H. CONNER
THE ENCHANTED VALLEY
A series of three sermonettes that
have helped me to understand life, death
and destiny.
Truth is not always palatable; but, as
a medicine, it is good for what ails you.
THE ENCHANTED VALLEY is the out¬
come of years of meditation, backed by faith
in the willingness of Divinity to illuminate
that mind which will assume a state of recep¬
tivity. It has found a sympathetic response
in persons in the most diverse walks of life.
They have found it enlightening, inspiring, and
an appealing message of truth. Read what
men, eminent, discriminating, and of ripe
judgment, say of this initial inspiration to
higher thinking and better living.
Rev. H. H. Cooper, D. D., Ph. D.,
Writes:
"This little volume, 'The Enchanted Valley,'
is peculiarly interesting and meritorious, be¬
cause of its subject and mode of treatment.
It is an interpretation of 'The Spirit,' expos¬
ing the errors of a misguided enthusiasm, and
the joy and charm of 'Christianity.' It is a
tonic for 'Faith,' as the poet says:
" 'A sovereign balm for every wound,
A cordial for our fear.'"
Prof. Percival Theel Writes:
"It was with great pleasure that I read this
part of your message. The expression of
thought that I found there is well worth con¬
tribution to thought and literature. I found
in this message expressions of thought that
should be read and re-read; for it is not with
the first reading of any thought, that is worth
while, that our finite mind can fully grasp the
full value and meaning; but it is only with
several readings; and thought on the part of
the reader that printed words before him reach
their real significance. Any work that has a
real value, as a contribution to literature,
should bear reading and re-reading. I found
that this message of yours well bears this test,
for it is only in the repeated reading that one
can fully grasp the real thought and message
that you have to convey."
Hey. Chas. A. Tindley, D. D., Writes:
"I had read with interest many of your pro¬
ductions before reading this, and was, there¬
fore, prepared to read your manuscript with
the expectation of receiving: something worth
while. I was delighted with the deep thought
so pleasingly expressed therein.
"The spiritual insight so fully evidenced
throughout the work is rare. Your graphic
image pictures are sufficient to stir one to
the depth. Fortunate, indeed, will be those
whose happy lot it is toi read this little book¬
let. God has breathed through you the breath
of Heaven, to be inhaled by all who shall
read it.
"I pray God's blessings upon the work, and
that it may find its way to the hearts of
thousands of hungry souls."
It is a personal message to you.
INTRODUCTION
A message has been given to me to
deliver to the world.
I have been a long time formulating
it. Little by little it has developed, like
a seed that has been sown. A tiny green
shoot it appeared at first; and then it
gradually grew, forming leaves and
branches, a strange but beautiful crea¬
tion, that I have watched from day to
day, with not a little interest and won¬
der. I am passionately fond of flowers;
but, like most city dwellers, have little
space suitable for raising them. It
chanced, one year, that an unrecognized
plant came up in a flower pot that I
had.
I said to myself, nothing seems to
succeed; but here, at least, is one that
11
is trying! And so I watered and cared
for it daily, until it grew to maturity,
and flowered.
Thus it has been with my message.
I did not recognize it at first, in the
smallness of its beginning, and its indis-
tinguishableness from other things; and
yet there was an indefinable charm
about it, that enlisted my sympathy;
and prompted me to nurture and to cher¬
ish it, until at last it burst into a flower
of wondrous substance and fragrance.
It has given me joy and consolation
many times, in what would otherwise
have been a gloomy hour.
I have set it in the presence of others;
and it has proved to them no less a
power, an inspiration and a revelation,
than it has been to me! It is not mine
to keep; but mine to give to those who,
in the struggle of life feel a lack; who
in the heat of the fray are athirst; are
12
burdened, aweary, shaken; and need
rest, in order that they may start out
afresh, with clearer vision, and strength
renewed, upon life's journey.
The world is full of preaching and
teaching. Why intrude upon it another ?
The orchestra is full, and its harmon¬
ies are in full swing; but there is some¬
thing missing in it, that something
which would cause it to grip the inmost
man, arousing, awakening him by the
power of conviction, which can only come
through the recognition of truth, by the
corresponding spirit of truth within.
The note that is missing is that note
which will resolve vague uncertainty,
the restless groping after an intangible
and evasive need, into a definite har¬
mony, giving to life a clearly defined
character and purpose, adding under¬
standing to knowledge: and intelligibly
foreshadowing the end in the beginning.
13
In a word, that note which present day
life needs is spirit.
It is a "lost chord" that makes our
lives unsatisfactory and incomplete. I
have felt my unworthiness; and won¬
dered that, under such circumstances, it
should have been given to me to hear
the divine harmony of that chord, in the
music of the spheres. Having1 caught it,
the question was what to do with it?
Ears that have failed to hear, to distin¬
guish, or to understand it, in the midst
of the clamor of the world, need, above
all things, to be opened to its reception.
Two methods for its promulgation lay
open before me—the way of the priest
craft; and the way of the prophets. I
chose the latter as being the path of in¬
dividualism and freedom—freedom to
serve untrammeled Him whose will is
my first concern.
14
It is hoped to attain two objects,
by the publication of this installment of
the message.
First, to awaken the individual to a
practical consciousness and realization
of his true and essential self.
For physical existence has had the
effect upon our self-consciousness of the
fabled enchantments of the ancient ma¬
gicians, until we have come to accept il¬
lusion for reality, appearance for truth.
Secondly, it is intended by this means
to reach the "seven thousand," *who, in
obscurity and separation, are living
their lives of unselfish devotion and help¬
fulness, each making brighter, and the
better for his presence, his little corner
of the earth; and by bringing them into
touch with one another, to infuse into
their lives a greater inspiration and
power, through that solidarity which
*1 Kings 19:14, 18.
15
has its rise in the unifying and strength¬
ening qualities inhering alone in kindred
spirits.
When the message was made plain
to me, and I knew that I must announce
it, I felt much as Elijah did. His plaint
was my plaint. The assurance that he
received was given to me, resolving my
doubts and fears. The "seven thousand"
will hear and understand; and through
them the word shall become a guiding
light.
CHAS. H. CONNER.
16
THE LIFE OF THE SPIRIT
IN THE NATURAL WORLD
—An Allegory
At the dawning of a day, in a deep
valley, a man awoke.
It was a valley of treasures that every¬
where abounded.
He opened his eyes, and beheld the
green sward bedecked with many colored
jewels that sparkled in the light.
His ears caught the medley of sounds,
that awoke innumerable echoes; and
with the balmy air peopled the valley
with delights. How he came there, or
why, he knew not; nor scarcely thought
or cared.
As he gazed upon the multitude of
things, in his heart upsprung desire;
and he gathered the treasures that lay
around, till his arms were full, and his
body decked in all their bright array.
Then the sun went down behind the
hill; and the vale grew dark; and the
night air chill; and the place grew sol¬
emn, silent, still.
21
A new thing then, to mortal ken,
seemed hovering on the threshold near.
A strange, fantastic thing, it crept, in¬
tangible, nearer, nearer swept, the pal¬
lid, startling face of Fear!
But, the night brings sleep at last—
and dreams; and day follows the night;
and sunshine follows storm throughout
the length of days. But a trace of the
dreams remains, like the faintly clinging
scent that marks a hidden trail; and so,
because of his dreams, the man's desire
reached out, and scaled the lofty peaks
that walled him in.
His pleasant valley seemed too nar¬
row and confined.
So, with his treasures fondly pressed
to his beating heart, he tried to scale
the heights.
He scrambled and struggled with
might and main, slipped and arose; and
fell again and again. The spirit was
22
willing, and valiant, and brave; but the
treasure encumbered it with fatal hold;
and held him bound, as with fold on fold
a corpse is held in its lowly grave. 1 So,
try as he might, he could not rise much
higher than one's hands can reach; and,
one by one, his gathered treasures lost
their brightness and their charm; as
gathered.flowers wilt and fade; and his
arms aweary from the burden that they
bore, let fall and scattered lie, little by
little, more and more of the things he
had gathered and vainly prized. And
each thing lost was so much lightness
gained, enabling him to mount a little
higher up the rugged steep. And so it
was till night was come again at last;
and worn and weary, he sank down to
sleep and rest.
And, as he slept, his arms relaxed
their hold; and down the steep his
dwindling treasures rolled, till the last
23
of them found their natural level and
resting place, the lower stretch of
ground. 'Twas then a strange sight met
my gaze, long to be remembered in the
coming days of trial and endeavor.
From out that sleeping form a lumin¬
ous haze arose, airy and white; and
glowed within it an amber fire*, as it
mounted higher, higher; and, as it arose,
it had the appearance of a man; and its
countenance was the countenance of
him that slept. Thus up and up it
winged its flight, until above the high¬
est peak 'twas lost to sight. I pondered
the matter in wonder and awe, until
long past the midnight hour, how
that a soul at last gained its longed for
power to win the distant height.
There is a kingdom of earth, and of
water and of air.
Each has its own. The heavier can¬
not rise above its level, to the next and
lighter zone.
*Ezekiel I; 1-4.
24
The treasures of the soul's desire,
were treasures of earth, whose lightest
joys were too heavy and too gross to be
sustained in the finer, rarer atmosphere;
and thus were as a leaden weight that
anchored the soul to earth, without its
being at all aware that the things it
thought so pleasant and so fair, were
shackles to bind it hard and fast; and
make it impossible for it to gain the re¬
gion that instinctively it felt and knew
was the rightful place of its abode.
25
WHOM SAY YE THAT I AM ?
— Mats. XVI: 15.
There is need for everyone, particular¬
ly everyone who calls him or herself a
Christian, to feel that this is a question
addressed also directly to them; and to
answer it in all sincerity.
What is Jesus to me?
I shall not concern myself with the
doctrine of the "immaculate concep¬
tion;" nor am I greatly concerned as to
whether Jehovah or Joseph was His
father*, according to the relationship
that ordinarily warrants using the term.
This much, however, I feel is import¬
ant for all to take into consideration.
Mary, his mother, was not an ordinary
mother.
An ordinary mother gives to the world
an ordinary child. It is the extraordi¬
nary mothers who give to the world ex¬
traordinary children. In her were extra¬
ordinary aspirations and ideals, main¬
tained with force and persistence; and
♦Matt. XIII: 55r56.
31
in them were moulded the character and
inclinations of the unborn son.
As some men are born to the kingship
of an earthly kingdom, so was He born
to the kingship of a kingdom not of this
earth.
What is He to me ?
In His youth, to me, He was one who,
from His earliest days, was more than
ordinarily impressed by the sorrow, suf¬
fering and injustice that afflicted hu¬
manity; and the crown of it all was
death! No matter what road one took,
high or low, to the right or to the left,
or straight ahead, at the end of the road
stood the Reaper; and in every house,
at last, is heard the sounds of lamenta¬
tion and of woe! For this cause He be¬
came "a man of sorrows and acquainted
with grief."
He was not callous or indifferent to
the sorrow and suffering of others.
32
The world's burden became His bur¬
den; and an overmastering sympathy
filled Him with pity and compassion for
the whole world.
And, He asked Himself whether there
was not deliverance for humanity ?
It was His constant thought; and it
became His imperishable resolve to find
a way out of this wilderness of ills; and
a truth that would bridge the chasm of
oblivion at the end of it.
God and the angel world were realities
to Him; and He determined to build a
highway over the abyss of death, to link
our lives with theirs; so that a man, in¬
stead of going down to death, would go
up to a higher, fuller and more beautiful
life. In my imagination, I picture Him
as the greatest seeker after truth of all
times, wrestling with this problem that
has baffled the intelligence of the ages,
and brought to nought the skill of the
master craftsmen of all times.
33
Throughout all the long years follow¬
ing the flight into Egypt, until the day
of His baptism, He fought the battle of
humanity against death's legions, gain¬
ing victory upon victory, meeting many
temporary checks; but whether weary
or refreshed, ever fighting on! There
were storms then greater than which
man never knew; and the hours of sun¬
shine were far and few.
His faith in the Father—God—was a
faith sublime. 'Twas only equalled by
that which He had in the final outcome
of His appointed task.
And so the years rolled on, until at
last the blackness of night gave way to
a shimmering dawn.
The sun arose, and the earth, and the
sky, and the sea, and all things therein
were filled with illumination, because the
light was in Him, the brightness of the
transfiguration! It was at the dawning
34
of that day that the morning stars sang
together, and the universe grew vibrant
with a thrilling harmony. It seems to
me that upon that day the hosts of
heaven looked down in wonder and awe
upon the figure of a man; upon the
figure of a man prostrate upon the
ground in prayer to the Father.
And as they watched, with bated
breath, they felt that a mighty some¬
thing was about to happen.
You know how still everything gets
just before a thunder storm breaks
forth ? So it was then.
And then "the man of sorrows" arose.
From His countenance all trace of sor¬
row, weariness and pain was gone. His
head no longer bowed, He stood upright,
a veritable incarnation of majesty—
THE CONQUEROR!
And His countenance was as the
brightness of the sun!
35
0! It was then that the pent up feel¬
ings of the watching host burst forth in
a mighty shout, as though it were a peal
of thunder!
What was that light, that truth that
shone from within the Saviour of men,
like a light in a light house by the sea?
It was this: ALL LIFE IS OF THE
SPIRIT.
Life in the flesh is one long illusion,
the illusion of a fretful fever; an il¬
lusion to which men cling frantically,
desperately, as a drowning man clings
to a straw!
It is a life that only SEEMS.
It SEEMS to be the only substantial
reality, in the insanity of our fears.
It seems to be solid, stable; and yet,
in truth, that which seems to be most
solid is nothing but gases bound togeth¬
er; and that which seems stable is for¬
ever changing!
36
Even in man, the atoms of his body
are forever changing, being lost and re¬
newed ; but throughout this change, one
thing remains constant, the conscious¬
ness that I am I, and you are you; and
that consciousness is of the spirit.
What was that light that shone in the
countenance Divine?
Man clings to life, but he vests that
life in mortality. It is not in the nature
of mortal life to give the life we crave.
It is extravagant with promises; but
miserly in the performance! It is filled
with disappointments and regrets. Fix
your heart upon anything of earth; and
it will fail you. Seek fame, honor, riches;
and in your hand they will be as the
Dead Sea fruit.
There is no deep and lasting satisfac¬
tion in them.
Love deeply, intensely, and how often
it will come to pass that your love and
37
ambitious hopes will at last wring from
you the cry: "0 Absalom, my son, my
son!"
In the realm of mortality nothing
lasts, whether it be joy, or whether it be
sorrow.
And yet it is to this that all men
cling.
Men struggle and die striving to live!
ALL LIFE IS OF THE SPIRIT.
He who loving his life would keep it,
must lay hold of the spirit.
Time, ruling the earth, and change,
robs man of his dearest. Whether it
would or no, it cannot do otherwise; but
though all things earthly fail, the things
of the spirit shall not fail.
There the loved one will not be
snatched away, just as one is beginning
to be sure of possession.
There hope will not wither beneath
the blight of disappointment, just as it
38
is upon the point of realization; nor life
be as a draught of salt sea water, that
satisfies not the thirst.
Men fear death, and mourn over it,
because they want life; and death looks
like a destroyer of life.
What was the light that shone in the
countenance of the Master?
ALL life is of the spirit.
Salvation, the refuge from the des¬
truction of death, lies in living in the
spirit.
The body always was dead.
Only the spirit is alive.
That is what is referred to when it is
said: "Let the dead bury their dead."
It did not mean any lack of sympathy
for those who were bereaved; but that
we CAN and should get out of, and live
above, the region of the "dead." The
path of deliverance leads directly to
spirit. The way—there is no other way
39
—of salvation is through the awakening
of the SPIRIT to a consciousness of
itself, as opposed to the contrary insin¬
uations of the body. The way of salva¬
tion is through the spirit winning its
rightful position of master, instead of
the slave of the body, not forgetting
obedience to the Divine Will. That is
why the Christ labored to establish a
SPIRITUAL kingdom.
That He knew is the only real, living
kingdom, the kingdom of the satisfac¬
tion of our proper aspirations and of all
our needs.
He did not come to make a thing which
could not, by its very nature, be satisfy¬
ing, our source of satisfaction; but to
awaken and to turn us to that which
will give the utmost satisfaction, rebirth
and life in the spirit. To me He was
not one who came to confirm us in the
follies and vanities of mortality, to grati¬
fy our infatuation for temporal things.
40
He came in order that we, while yet in
the flesh, might lay hold of the eternal
verities.
So saturated with earthliness was
mankind, that it could not understand
the sublime and saving prospect held
out to it. For man is so steeped in the
illusions of earth life that he is like one
who is drunken, or in the stupor of one
who is half awakened from a heavy
sleep.
That is why he asked: "Can a man
when he is old enter again his mother's
womb ?"
And others petitioned for places of
honor and preferment upon an earthly
throne, and in a royal court. It took
even those nearest to him a long time
to realize the nature of the gift that the
Master offered them; but when they did,
they were willing to give the whole world
for it.
41
As I go back to that wonderful time,
I can appreciate the conditions that ex¬
isted there.
There was a stupendous truth, an in¬
estimable boon awaiting humanity.
There were skeptics, scoffers, then as
now.
Men's minds had gotten into a rut that
it was almost impossible for them to
get out of. Salvation from sin and
death. Life eternal.
Oh! it was too good to be true!
In such a state, the great need was,
and is, to save man from HIMSELF,
from the fetters of unbelief.
There was only one way, one proof
that could forever banish all doubt.
Jesus must die in order to prove that
it is possible to be victorious over death.
Legions of angels might have saved
Him from His persecutors—from death;
but here was an opportunity to prove
42
Salvation, to make even the worst pas¬
sions of man serve the Divine purpose of
bringing mankind to salvation. The
hour of trial draws near. We have
reached Gethsemane. Again the angelic
host is assembled, watching a bowed
form in an agony of supplication.
The blackness of night is again upon
us. For a time the blazing glory of the
sun is blotted out. This is a man pros¬
trate before us; and because it is a man,
the hopes and fears, the salvation and
despair of man rest with Him.
No man has yet met death squarely,
face to face, and vanquished him.
Will HE fail? A man may step down
into the dark waters to his knees and
recover; to his waist; to his chin. He
may hold to life just with a finger tip;
and win back all his life. But, can a
man let go; and the waters overwhelm
him; and death hold him in his cold em¬
brace, and know again the warm pulse
43
of life, see again the green fields, and
hear the voices of kindred and friends ?
Dare a man thus prove his faith?
This was the question that confronted
the Master. I can see Him searching
the past and the future.
I can see Him scanning the faces of
that multitude of celestials. There is
no help there. I see this man going
back to men, His own kind, His disciples
for human sympathy in this awful hour.
But they sleep on!
Again I see Him fall prostrate and
alone. The task is almost too heavy!
"Suffer the cup to pass."
I can guess all that went to form the
bitterness of that cup! "Father all my
life long I have served Thee, trusted
Thee. I have known no will but Thine!"
And the answer came like some faintly
stirring breath of music, full of tender-
est compassion.
44
The words of that answer are sealed;
but the Master heard, and bowing in
full self surrender said. "Thy will be
done!" The mighty tension and sus¬
pense were relieved, but still and to this
day, his disciples sleep!
* * * And now I see the agony
of the cross!
"If I be lifted up, I will draw all men
unto me!"
What is there in this death? Men
have died—many just as cruelly—
throughout all the ages.
The wonder is not that a God should
die; for God does not die, but that a
man should die that life might be made
manifest!
Human beings will readily admit that
all things are possible to God; but the
vital question to us is, what is possible
to man?
That answer can only be found in
man; and here is the man of all men
45
who undertakes to answer it in His own
person! It would have meant nothing
to me as a man, and been of no value
to the world, had not a man hung there
between the heaven and the earth.
I do not question that He was also
Divine; but the great, the convincing
fact is that He is human.
Because He is human He can under¬
stand me and I Him. Again, a second
time His humanity stands out, clearly
revealed upon the cross, as He cries out:
"Eloi! Eloi, lama Sabachthani !"* Al¬
ready the time for drawing back is
past. He is nailed to an irrevocable
decision. He is unalterably bound to the
truth of which He is the champion.
The heart strings are snapping like
the overstrained strings of an instru¬
ment; and death, exultant, steals upon
His frame. In that moment, a purely
human misgiving assails Him.
*Mark XV: 34.
46
He had thought that when the su¬
preme moment came, God, the Father,
would show forth the triumph of life,
perhaps as in the case of Elijah. The
faith of His saying: "Destroy this tem¬
ple, and in three days I will raise it up,"
disappeared for a moment.
But such an ending would not satis¬
fy death of his defeat; nor convince a
dead world.
"My God, my God, why hast Thou
forsaken me?" I thank God for that
cry; for it is that cry, more than any¬
thing else; that links me to my Saviour;
and makes me understand the rest, and
makes me know that He is of a verity,
"the way, the truth and the life."
"It is finished."* The trial is perfect,
the sacrifice complete. The human can
do no more. The rest is in the hand of
God. "Father, into Thy hands I com¬
mend my spirit."f
*John XIX: 30.
fLuke XXIII: 46.
47
Again that sublime, perfect and full
self surrender—resignation. It all lies
now with the Father. All the loving,
patient service, all the sacrifice and de¬
votion are become as a mighty, propel¬
ling force within a tidal wave, casting
back the dead made living, upon the
shore of time.
The spirit of the Master, one with
Divinity, had contended with death, for
the possession of the body; and in that
battle the destiny of the whole human
race was at stake—and death went
down to utter defeat.
The dead lived! The ransom was
paid; and the Lord might claim His
own.
48
"ALL THAT A MAN HATH
WILL HE GIVE FOR
HIS LIFE."
—Job II: 4.
The one great drawback to religion
today is that it is not really considered
to be practical. It is like those parlors
that are beautifully furnished, but
closed to use, except upon rare and for¬
mal occasions.
It is set apart from daily life and, use.
It must not be allowed to interfere with
the practical business of living. The
result is that it does not take its right¬
ful, dominating place in our lives.
We are as good as we can afford to
be; as good as it seems to pay us to be.
Our estimate is made from the stand¬
point of material existence and necessi¬
ties.
The unrecognized fact is that, what
we term the physical life fills our eyes
completely; and is, in our estimation, in
respect to any other assumed life, the
"bird in hand," that is "worth two in
the bush."
53
"All that a man hath will he give
for his life."
So greatly he values it, though as¬
sociating it with physical conditions.
Such is the price that he will pay;
though the price will not, and cannot
extend his lease of life more than a short
time. The fundamental claim of our
religion is the existence of a life eternal,
an eternal life that is not visionary
merely; but substantial, real.
You who would give anything and
everything that you have for life in
mortality, what would you really give
for life eternal?
Would you really, if it were demanded
of you, give all that you have for it?
That ALL includes the pleasures,
comforts, and satisfactions so diligent¬
ly sought after in this life; and even
this life itself.
It is exceptional that a man is called
upon to make such a bid for life in the
54
physical; and it may be equally rare
that one is required to pay with his all
for life eternal; but, if so called upon,
are you willing to pay the price?
In other words, what do YOU con¬
sider it worth to you? The question is
practical.
People give twenty-four hours a day,
nearly every day, for temporal life.
They spend lavishly energy and money
upon the body, endeavoring to keep life
in it.
They will spend a dollar upon its de¬
mands no more grudgingly than they
will spend five cents upon religion; and
yet religion is to life eternal, as the body
is to temporal life.
It is the medium through which the
spirit accumulates experience, and dis¬
covers that it is, just as through the
medium of the physical body, it discovers
the relationships of things physical.
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The first thing that religion should
do is to teach us to really know our¬
selves.
It is the dawn and the cradle of the
self consciousness, the awakening of the
spirit. It is this fundamental necessity,
a genuine spiritual self awakening, that
religionists miss, as a rule. There are
glimmerings of it in every one who has
undergone a religious awakening; but
man is so drunken with the intoxication
of the wine of earthly desires, that he
is helplessly incapable of appreciating
what it was that half awakened him.
Under such, which is our normal con¬
dition, it is no wonder that we feel that
we cannot afford time for higher things.
You can't make a man who is lying
in the gutter drunk, make much of an
effort to exchange his bed for the finest
couch.
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The reason that men do not give more
to religion of ALL that they have and
are, is because, no matter how much
(or rather little) they think of eternal
life, they think of temporal life more.
We hear people use such expressions
as: "We know all about this life;" and
"it takes all my time to make a living."
This means that, to them, the only safe,
sane and sure place to invest one's
energies is in the bank of material ex¬
istence. There should be no such practi¬
cal doubt and uncertainty about etern¬
al life; and its distinction from mortal¬
ity.
People thank God daily that they are
yet "in the land of the living, that
their lives have been spared to see
another day."
Why so grateful for this particular
blessing ?
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It is because earthly consciousness and
existence represents to them the practi¬
cal all of substantial life and opportuni¬
ty. There is still a vagueness and un¬
certainty about any other life.
We neither know, nor have we known
any other life than this. It is the foun¬
dation and support of all the life that
we know of. I don't mean of any life
that we may speculate about.
But, there comes a time when the
spirit of man stirs within him as one in
a dream. There comes a time when life
seems like a narrow valley inclosed by
high mountains.
There is light upon the gilded peaks,
so different from the dim shadows of the
valley.
The body seems a prison house of
clay, out of whose windows we look, as
a bird looks out of its gilded cage, upon
the sunlit fields and glorious freedom of
that larger world to which it is denied.
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Memory whispers of "a home over
there," beyond the towering mountains;
and a recollection dim and faint brings
to our ken a panorama of which some¬
time, somewhere we formed a part.
The very atmosphere thrills with a
blessed harmony, and the zephyr wafted
fragrance of far off gardens of flowers.
It is a paradise lost, whose beckoning
draws the soul that becomes conscious
of it, as a lodestone draws a compass
needle. Full of yearning for the freedom
blazoned in the light of the towering
peaks, I see that soul arise; and turning
from the enchanted valley, face the
steep and rugged way that leads up to
the heights. It is the Prodigal that has
at last come to realize the delusiveness of
all that he had so dearly prized; and now
is coming home.
This is the religion of Jesus Christ.
"All that a man hath will he give for
his life;" and such a man will give all
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that this sham existence contains for
real life. As he climbs upwards to life
and freedom, he will let go each thing
that hinders, each thing that binds him
to the fatal and enchanted valley; and
each tie severed will not be counted as
a treasure lost, but a burden laid aside,
a weight removed, an added chance to
gain the goal.
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