Within the Temple of Isis | Page 2

not reject
and declare it is not true.
History will teach you there actually existed a "Temple of Isis," and the
translations thereof, although many of them are very incorrect, of the
wonderful magic therein performed, lead one to think there was some
Wisdom issued from that Temple that is yet beyond the human family,
as a whole, to understand.
"The Temple of Isis" exists no more in external form, and the
Hierophants of that Temple have passed from this to the spiritual
planes above. But, need we think by that, the blind forces of Nature can
no more be controlled? The forces are just the same to-day, but man's
mind fails to grasp the truth that history repeats itself.
Mighty Hierophants are upon the earth to-day, in embryo, and when the
time comes that points favorably for active spiritual work on the

Western Continent, they will be called forth and Egypt will not be
ashamed of her true children nor their works.
The Wisdom Religion of Egypt still exists and we can contact that
Wisdom by the development of our souls. Even do the Wise Men of the
East, that was, exert their spiritual influence upon us to-day if we but
knew it.
The trouble lies with us not with them. They will never conceal it from
the honest soul truly seeking for Light, Life and Love.
Follow us carefully to the end, without prejudice, and when you have
finished, if you still think it fiction, strive to prove its falsity and stop
not until you have reached that stage of soul unfoldment that will
enable you to occupy that plane whereby you can stand beside the great
Hierophants of "The Temple of Isis."
THE AUTHORESS.

WITHIN THE TEMPLE OF ISIS.
CHAPTER I.
THE REVELATION OF THE ASTROLOGER.
Although the hour was very late, near midnight, the Priestess had just
retired to her apartments for repose.
The Rites of the day had been extremely long and fatiguing, as they
always were for a Priestess of Isis attendant upon the burial service of
one in high rank; and a great nobleman of the land, as well as a near
relative of the Priestess herself, had been buried that day.
Thus personal sorrow had mingled with and added weight to the
impressive and solemn grandeur of the occasion, yet, strangely enough
her mind was neither with the events of the day nor the dead, but her
thoughts were resting now where they had wandered many times

throughout the day, namely, to her little handmaid and special attendant,
as well as Vestal in the Temple, Sarthia.
Sarthia, who at the very beginning of the Chants and Litany, had failed
in her part and had, with such a pitiable moan and beseeching glance at
her, been hastily withdrawn from the assembly and assisted to the
private courts.
Poor child, she thought, the strain upon her emotions, the solemn
occasion, was too great for her in view of the crisis, which all unknown
to her, must be now impending. However, upon learning from an
attendant that the young girl was resting quietly and apparently not ill,
she had not herself personally visited her, but concluded to wait until
morning.
Once, twice, thrice, just as the Priestess had, as it were, passed the
border-land of sleep the pale face, with its pleading eyes and plaintive
cry, had started her back to vivid consciousness.
"Ah! this will never do," she said, springing to her feet. "Something is
indeed wrong," and taking up her mantle she glided swiftly through the
corridors, and a few moments later was bending over the silent and
motionless form of Sarthia.
Noiseless as had been the approach of the Priestess some interior
vibration had informed Sarthia of her coming and, with a quivering and
swift movement, she sprang from her couch and threw herself
impulsively into the arms of the Priestess.
"Ah! sweet Mother, well beloved of our blessed and divine Isis, hear
me and help me," said the girl, in a whisper, tense and low, so low as
only to reach the listening ear of the Priestess.
"Speak child," answered the Priestess, caressingly clasping Sarthia to
her bosom with one strong arm, and with the other making soft,
mesmeric passes over her trembling body.
"Ah! thank you, sweet Mother; this is so good and kind of you to come

to me to-night. I have suffered so all day from your thought; you have
been disappointed in your Sarthia and with reason, too. A Vestal, who
all but faints at the sight of death, is not made of the stuff required in
the Temple Service. But, believe me, dear Priestess, the trouble is far
deeper than appears upon the surface. The Ritual this morning but
furnished the occasion or, rather, hastened some crisis that