bathe his feet so that humanity's heart should be washed clean; it was so thorough, so total that he allowed himself to become helpless and hopeless on the roads of the world so that we on our journey to ourselves should look beyond ourselves for help, and hope only for that which we truly are.

He, the Lovely Stranger, beloved Baba, told us that his sufferings for humanity would culminate in humiliation, and this would be followed by his glorification. His humiliation I saw—a humiliation as deep as Jesus ' on the cross, as Krishna's dying from a stray arrow, as the Buddha 's succumbing to the effects of food-poisoning.

Some months before he left his body on the battle-field of illusion, Baba told us that tragedy faced him. We had thought, what sort of tragedy can overtake God? Tragedy is in the lives of men, not in the existence of God. In the last hours when his body was being shaken by great spasms, he said that all the forces of Maya, which is the Principle of Ignorance, were hard pressing him, but he would emerge victorious.

But his victory lay in apparent defeat—as even the great victories of men do: for men are reflections or images of God. And in this moment of apparent defeat eternal Existence asserted itself—and his was the glory of victory.

But none saw his glory. There were incidents such as sometimes follow the death of a saint—the body remained fresh for seven days; he manifested his physical form to some and spoke to them. But such things are too trifling to be considered in connection with the glorification of God-Man.

None saw his glory; and none heard the Word which was to precede it. But that Word had silently entered the hearts of his children who are the seed of the New Humanity, the flower of which will be the glorification of the eternal Beloved. It is to these that I now speak.

You are so much wiser than we older ones, for your wisdom is in your hearts, while ours was gotten of labor. Your love is so much purer than ours: it is a multitude of mountain streams that leap and sparkle in the sun, while ours is water drawn from wells with a reduced table― and somewhat brackish at that. Your song is a new song inspired directly by the Beloved's song in your hearts, while ours is made up of dying cadences from the unbridgeable past.

When word came to you that your Be-loved, he whose Man-form you had never seen, had dropped his body, you never asked, What do we do now? Where do we go from here? You were already going—you just continued going. Your direction was implicit in your faith; and you knew that your destination was the wineshop of the Beloved.

You know that the journey to Self is not to be lightly undertaken, that it is the longest and most arduous one can set out on; that between you and your Goal are oceans to cross in the frail craft of spirit, and deserts where your only drink will be salt tears. Yet your faith is such that you know your Beloved will ride the sea-storms with you and that in the desert tears will also be his drink. You really know all things, everything: you have only to be-come conscious that you know.

You are the ones for whom the Lovely Stranger came; and you recognized him as soon as you heard his voice in your hearts, and you poured out your lives at his beautiful feet without thought of recompense. It is you, not we, who will build the new music and sing the new architecture.

The breath of the Beloved has already stirred the Ocean of Stillness which is his being and his Word is already singing in your hearts and eyes. This singing is the beginning of the manifestation of his glory. How blinding will be that glory when the eyes of everyone in the world shine with the Beloved 's Word and the hands of each are his brothers; and the dead grandeurs of yesterday and the futile justifications of today are swept away in the flood of the New Singing.

Brother and sister drop-bubbles on the ocean of the Beloved 's beautiful reality, how many times through the ages must your songs have delighted the Lovely One on his Earth-comings; and because of his delight how carefully he must have arranged your births this time—the end of one cycle and the beginning of another—his seed-sowing of the New Humanity.