He may now catch even a glimpse of the
possibilities of his own being--may dimly perceive for a moment the
image after which he was made. But alas! too soon, self, radiant of
darkness, awakes; every window becomes opaque with shadow, and the man
is again a prisoner. For it is not the highest word alone that the cares
of this world, the deceitfulness of riches, and the lust of other things
entering in, choke, and render unfruitful. Waking from the divine
vision, if that can be called waking which is indeed dying into the
common day, the common man regards it straightway as a foolish dream;
the wise man believes in it still, holds fast by the memory of the
vanished glory, and looks to have it one day again a present portion of
the light of his life. He knows that, because of the imperfection and
dulness and weakness of his nature, after every vision follow the
inclosing clouds, with the threat of an ever during dark; knows that,
even if the vision could tarry, it were not well, for the sake of that
which must yet be done with him, yet be made of him, that it should
tarry. But the youth whose history I am following is not like the
former, nor as yet like the latter.
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