To the
soul that is slowly awakening all appears sacrifice; but few things
indeed are so called by the soul that at last lives the life whereof
self-denial, pity, devotion, are no longer indispensable roots, but
only invisible flowers. For in truth too many do thus feel the need
of destroying--though it be without cause--a happiness, love, or a
hope that is theirs, thereby to obtain clearer vision of self in the
light of the consuming flame. It is as though they held in their
hand a lamp of whose use they know nothing; as though, when the
darkness comes on, and they are eager for light, they scatter its
substance abroad on the fire of the stranger.
Let us beware lest we act as he did in the fable, who stood watch in
the lighthouse, and gave to the poor in the cabins about him the oil
of the mighty lanterns that served to illumine the sea. Every soul
in its sphere has charge of a lighthouse, for which there is more or
less need. The humblest mother who allows her whole life to be
crushed, to be saddened, absorbed, by the less important of her
motherly duties, is giving her oil to the poor; and her children
will suffer, the whole of their life, from there not having been, in
the soul of their mother, the radiance it might have acquired.
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