32967-0001-0029

33 Be

us from childhood - with a dream of some-
thing surprising by [?], which has never
yet been realized - That which sweeps
sweeps through the soul at times as on
desolation, like the blast from the wings of the Angel
of Death, leaving us stricken and silent in
our loneliness - That which has touched us in
our tenderest point, and the flesh has
quivered with agony, and our mortal affections
have shrivelled up with pain - That
which comes, comes to us in aspirations
of nobleness, and conceptions of super human
excellence. Shall we say It or He? What is It?
Who is It? Who is He? Those anticipations of
Immortality and God - what are they?
Are they the mere throbbings of my own heart,
heard and mistaken for a living something
beside me? Are they sound of my own
wishes, echoing through the voids - void of nothingness?
or shall I call them God, Father,
spirit, love? A living Being within or outside
me? Tell me. Thy name, thou awful
mystery of Loveliness! This is the struggle
of all earnest life.
Robertson's Jacob's Wrestling