Watchfulness

Not long ago I had occasion to go to a near-by city. The day was somewhat gloomy and the skies were overcast. As I took my seat in the train, my first thought was to turn to the window and push the shade well up, so that I might have an unobstructed view of the landscape,—not that I was expecting to make any special study of the latter, as it was already very familiar to me, but from an instinctive desire for light and for a broad outlook.

The matter which was taking me to the city seemed a somewhat complex one, and I realized that it was far wiser to study it in the light of truth rather than from a merely human, business point of view; so after settling down quietly I immediately began to work mentally over the problem before me. For a while all went well, and my spiritual vision seemed very clear. A sense of peace and quiet pervaded my mental atmosphere, and the way I was to go seemed to lie plainly before me. Minutes passed, and suddenly I became aware that a great change of feeling had taken place. A peculiar sadness appeared to be creeping over me, and a sense of darkness as well. I started, and turned to the window to find that very slowly, but none the less surely, the blinds had been slipping down and had now more than half concealed the outlook. I pushed them back into place, and this time made sure that they would stay. "There," I exclaimed, "is your lesson. Just as those blinds, which you were not watching, slipped slowly down and thus cut off the light of day, so a human sense of things has gradually crept into your mentality to darken your thought because you were not watching."

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE
Poem
Summer Rain
July 4, 1914
Contents

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit