"Let there be light"

Standing upon a mountain top, one of the mighty Sierras of southern California, in the early dawn, with the mist and fog rolling and tossing all around and below like the great billows of a mighty sea, with no land visible save that on which one is standing, thought is lifted in wonder and awe at the seeming might and majesty expressed in this grand view. As one gazes upon the limitless expanse of mist, beautiful as it appears, he realizes that it typifies the unrest of mortal mind, and he knows that it will be dissipated into its native nothingness by the coming of the orb of light. Then one's thought is turned to the story of the creation, when God said, "Let there be light: and there was light."

Soon from the east there come the first rays of the rising sun, typifying the dawn of Truth, and seeming terror and more wild discord, if possible, the billows of fog or error gradually disperse as more and more light appears, until at length the mists are driven back, mountain top after mountain top comes into view, and again one is led to recall the command, "Let the dry land appear: and it was so." Then as the fullorbed light of the morning sun beams over the mountain tops, dispelling all fog or error, thought is exalted above the surrounding scene and dwells in heaven, the firmament above the waters, and as never before one says understandingly, "Our Father." Thus alone with his God, remembrance brings again Truth's inquiry: "'Adam, where art thou? Consciousness, where art thou? Art thou dwelling in the belief that mind is in matter, and that evil is mind, or art thou in the living faith that there is and can be but one God?'" (Science and Health, p. 307.) And one's prayer is for more light: "Open thou my understanding."

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January 23, 1915
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