The mighty host of those who through the
ages had heard the voice of God and had made answer. The men and women
in all lands who had made room in their hearts for God. Still nameless,
scattered, unknown to one another: still powerless as yet against the
world's foul law of hate, they should continue to increase and multiply,
until one day they should speak with God's voice and should be heard. And
a new world should be created.
God. The tireless Spirit of eternal creation, the Spirit of Love. What
else was it that out of formlessness had shaped the spheres, had planned
the orbits of the suns. The law of gravity we named it. What was it but
another name for Love, the yearning of like for like, the calling to one
another of the stars. What else but Love had made the worlds, had
gathered together the waters, had fashioned the dry land. The cohesion
of elements, so we explained it. The clinging of like to like. The
brotherhood of the atoms.
God. The Eternal Creator. Out of matter, lifeless void, he had moulded
His worlds, had ordered His endless firmament.
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