The Ascent of the Soul | Page 7

all that is implied in consciousness of responsibility. There

are degrees of alertness, and some men are wide awake and others half
asleep.
However it may have come to its self-realization, that is a solemn and
sublime moment when a human soul understands, ever so dimly, that it
is facing in the unseen Being one on whom it knows itself to be
dependent; and when it discerns the hitherto invisible lines which bind
it to other personalities, in all space and time. At that moment life
really begins. Henceforward, by various ways, over undreamed-of
obstacles, assisted by invisible hands, hindered by unseen forces, in
spite of foes within and enemies without, the course of that soul must
ever be toward its true home and goal, in the bosom of God.
The difficulties in the way of such a faith for the thoughtful and
sensitive are many and serious. Not all blossoms come to fruitage; not
all human beings are fit to live; processes of degeneration seem to be at
work in nature, in society, and in the individual life.
Apparently true and time-honored interpretations of Scripture are
quoted against the faith that in some way, and by some kind of
discipline, the souls of men will forever approach God; while the belief
of the church, so far as it has found expression in the creeds is urged in
opposition. But when I see how timidly the creeds of the church have
been held by many in all ages, how large a number of the most spiritual
and morally earnest have questioned them at this point, and how often
they have been rejected in whole, or in part, by those who have dared to
trust their hearts; when I remember that the Scripture quoted as
opposing is susceptible of another interpretation, when I remember that
blossoms are not men, and, most of all when I see the God-like
possibilities in every human being, I cannot resist the conviction that
every soul of man is from God, and that, sometime and somehow, it
may be by the hard path of retribution, possibly through great agonies
and by means of austere chastisements and severe discipline as well as
by loving entreaty, after suffering shall have accomplished all its
ministries it will reach a blissful goal and the "beatific vision."
The awakening of the soul is its entrance upon an appreciation of its
powers, relations, possibilities, and responsibilities.

What awakens the soul? The answer to that question is hidden. The
wind bloweth where it listeth. Elemental processes and forces are all
silent and viewless. The stillness of the sunrise is like that of the deeps
of the sea. No eye ever traced the birth of life, and no sound ever
attended the awakening of the soul; and yet this subject is not
altogether mysterious. A few rays of light have fallen upon it. I venture
suggestions which may help a little toward a rational answer to this
question.
The soul awakens because it grows, and its growth is sure. Everything
that is alive must grow; only death is stationary. It is as natural for us
sometime to know ourselves as having relations both to the seen and
the unseen as for our bodies to increase in stature. The Confession of
Augustine[3] is true of all, "Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart
is restless until it repose in Thee."
[Footnote 3: Confessions. Book I, 1.]
The soul turns toward God as naturally as children turn toward their
parents. I know no other way of explaining the fact that in all ages the
majority of the people have had faith in some kind of a deity; and that,
widely as they differ as to what is right, all feel that they should follow
their convictions of duty. The various ethnic religions, however
repulsive, cruel, and vile some of their teachings may be, all indicate a
realization of dependence, and all, in some way, bear witness to man's
longing for God. Augustine was right--"The heart is restless until it
repose in Thee."
The healthful soul will always move along the pathway of growth. The
next stage in its evolution after its birth is its awakening. Its progress
may be hindered, but it cannot be prevented, and it may be hastened.
The means by which a soul comes to its self-realization has been a
favorite study with poets, dramatists, and novelists. Marguerite, in
"Faust," was a simple, sweet, sensuous, traditionally religious girl until
she was rudely startled by the knowledge that she was a great sinner;
that moment the scales began to fall from her eyes. In her, Goethe has
shown how one class of persons, and that a large class, come to

self-realization.
Victor Hugo, in a passage of almost unparalleled pathos, has pictured
in Jean Valjean a