the cold and unillumined matter in which it is embraced. But in this darkness there is no unity. The Light of Religion arises!—and all things burst forth and rush towards each other in reciprocal order and dependence, and float on together, as a united whole, in the One, Eternal, and All-embracing flood of Light.
This Light is mild, gently refreshing, and wholesome to the eye. In the twilight of mere earthly vision the dim shapes which crowd in confusion around us are feared and therefore hated. In the Light of Religion all things are pleasing and shed around them calmness and peace. In it all unlovely shapes disappear, all things float in the glowing ether of Love. Not that man submits himself to the law of a high and unchangeable Fate;—in Religion there is no Fate, but only Wisdom and Goodness, to which man is not compelled to submit himself, but which embrace him with Infinite Love. In these contemplations in which we have been engaged, this joyful and friendly view ought.to have spread itself over our own Age, and over the whole Earthly Life of our Race. The more closely this mild influence has embraced us, the deeper it has penetrated all our thoughts and aspirations,—in a word, the more we have attained to peace with the whole world, and joyful sympathy with every form of existence, the more sure may we be, and the more confidently may we affirm, that our contemplations have belonged not to vacant, but to True Time.
This Light spreads itself forth by its own native energy, and widens the sphere of its influence, until at last it embraces our whole world. As when the earthly light breaks forth in one point, the shadows retire, the limits of day and night are separated, and darkness itself becomes visible though not the particular objects which it veils; soisit with the Light of Religion. In one sphere, in the sphere of our Earthly Life, this Light ought already to have arisen upon us. Has it truly arisen upon us?—then do we already know, firmly and surely, that also beyond this sphere Wisdom and Goodness reign, because nothing else can possibly attain dominion;—but we do not understand how they rule there, nor what are the purposes which they there unfold. Penetrated with firm and immovable conviction and insight with respect to the fact, there remains to us beyond this sphere, and with reference to the manner of the fact, only Faith. The one sphere is illumined by clear and intelligible Light; the farther region is also surrounded by Light, but obscurity still rests upon the supersensual objects which it contains. But this Light, thus intelligible and clear in itself, does not remain shut up in its original limits, but, as its own brightness increases, it lays hold of the nearest surrounding phenomena, and from these again proceeds to those beyond; the sphere of the Religion of the Understanding is extended, and embraces one portion after another of the realm of Faith. If, therefore, we shall gradually attain to a clearer and clearer understanding of that one thing which alone is worth understanding,—the plans of Divine Wisdom and Goodness—then is this a certain proof that our contemplations have belonged not to vacant, but to True Time.
In one word, only our future growth in inward Peace and Blessedness, as well as in inward Understanding, can furnish the proof that the doctrine which has been here set forth is True, has been truly accepted by us, and has attained an actual Life within us.
You see that this proof does not show itself outwardly; that no one of us can answer for the other, but each only for himself and from his own soul; and indeed that each can do this best when he answers only within his own soul. You see that in no case can these questions be answered to-day or to-morrow, but that the answer must be deferred for a quite indefinite period of time. You see that here to-day, standing at the conclusion of our labours, we yet cannot know whether we have accomplished something or nothing; and that upon this subject we can only appeal to the consciousness of our honest intention, if we are able to lay claim to such an intention, and must pass over from the region of Understanding to that of Faith and Hope.
And suppose that we could answer these questions, and answer them in accordance with our own wishes;—what, even in that case, were this assembly in comparison with the populous city in which we stand? and what were this city in comparison with the whole realm of culture?—a drop of water, perhaps, in a mighty stream. Would not this drop of water, animated by a new Life-element,—if indeed it were really so animated,—would it not mingle with the stream, and disappear in it, so that scarcely a single trace of the superadded element should remain? Here again we have nothing left us but the Hope that if it be Truth which we have here announced, and if it have assumed a form intelligible to our Age, this same Truth, in the same form, though without our knowledge, shall also, elsewhere and through other organs, make itself manifest to the Age; so that many drops in this great stream may be interpenetrated by the same Life-element, and gradually combining, at last communicate their mutual vitality to the whole.
Let us cherish this Hope, and with this joyful anticipation before us, let us part. Farewell!