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Free ebooks with inspiring poems by James Allen, Emerson, Henry Thomas Hamblin, Joel
Goldsmith, Blake, Walt Whitman, Wordsworth, Edwin Markham, at absolute1.net, your site for metaphysical books
From "The Way of Peace" - James Allen There is an inmost center in us all Where Truth abides in fullness ; and around, Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in-, This perfect, clear perception, which is Truth, A baffling and perverting carnal mesh Blinds it, and makes all error; and to know, Rather consists in opening out a way Whence the imprisoned splendor may escape, Than in effecting entry for a light Supposed to be without. "The heights by great men reached and kept, Were not attained by sudden flight, But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night." " Star that of the birth of Vishnu, Birth of Krishna, Buddha, Jesus, Told the wise ones, Heavenward looking, Waiting, watching for thy gleaming In the darkness of the night-time, In the starless gloom of midnight Shining Herald of the coming Of the kingdom of the righteous Teller of the Mystic story Of the lowly birth of Godhead In the stable of the passions, In the manger of the mind-soul; Silent singer, of the secret Of compassion deep and holy To the heart with sorrow burdened, To the soul with waiting weary; Star of all surpassing brightness, Thou again does deck the midnight Thou again does cheer the wise ones Watching in the creedal darkness, Weary of the endless battle With the grinding blades of error Tired of lifeless, useless idols, Of the dead forms of religions Spent with watching for thy shining Thou hast ended their despairing; Thou hast lighted up their pathway Thou hast brought again the old Truths To the hearts of all thy Watchers; To the souls of them that love thee Thou dost speak of joy and Gladness, Of the peace that comes of Sorrow. Blessed are they that can see thee, Weary wanderers in the Night-time. Blessed they who feel the throbbing, In their bosoms feel the pulsing Of a deep Love stirred within them By the great power of thy shining. Let us learn thy lesson truly; Learn it faithfully and humbly Learn it meekly, wisely, gladly, Ancient Star of holy Vishnu, Light of Krishna, Buddha, Jesus. Enter the Path ; there is no grief like hate, No pain like passion, no deceit like sense; Enter the Path ; far hath he gone whose foot Treads down one fond offence. Self be the only prison that can ever bind the soul; Truth is the only angel that can bid the gates unroll; And when he comes to call thee, arise and follow fast, His way may lie through darkness, but it leads to light at last. 0 come, weary brother! your struggling and striving End it in the heart of the Master of Truth; Across self's drear desert why will you be driving, Athirst for the quickening waters of Truth. When here, by the path of your searching and sinning, Flows Life's gladsome stream, lies Love's oasis green? Come, turn and rest; know the end and beginning, The sought and the searcher, the seer and seen. Your Master sits not in the unapproached mountains, Nor dwells in the mirage which floats on the air, Nor will you discover His magical fountains In pathways of sand that encircle despair. In selfhood's dark desert cease wearily seeking The odorous tracks of the feet of your King, And if you would hear the sweet sound of His speaking, Be deaf to all voices that emptily sing. Flee the vanishing places; renounce all you have; Leave all that you love, and naked and bare, Yourself at the shrine of the Innermost cast ; The Highest, the Holiest, the Changeless is there. Within, in the heart of the Silence He dwells ; Leave sorrow and sin, leave your wanderings sore; Come bathe in His joy, whilst He, whispering, tells Your soul what it seeks, and wander no more. Then cease, weary brother, your struggling and striving Find peace in the heart of the Master of Truth; Across self's dark desert cease wearily driving; Come; drink at the beautiful waters of Truth. No harmful shaft can reach the righteous man, Standing erect amid the storms of hate, Defying hurt and injury and ban, Surrounded by the trembling slaves of Fate. Majestic in the strength of silent power, Serene he stands, nor changes not nor turns; Patient and firm in suffering's darkest hour, Time bends to him, and death and doom he spurns. Wrath's lurid lightnings round about him play, And hell's deep thunders roll about his head; Yet heeds he not, for him they cannot slay Who stands whence earth and time and space are fled. Sheltered by deathless love, what fear hath he? Armored in changeless Truth, what can he know Of loss and gain? Knowing eternity, He moves not whilst the shadows come and go. Call him immortal, call him Truth and Light And splendor of prophetic majesty Who bides thus amid the powers of night, Clothed with the glory of divinity. That of our vices we can frame A ladder if we will but tread Beneath our feet each deed of shame "Ye suffer from yourselves, none else compels, None other holds ye that ye live and die." I stood upon the shore, and saw the rocks Resist the onslaught of the mighty sea, And when I thought how all the countless shocks They had withstood through an eternity, I said, " To wear away this solid main The ceaseless efforts of the waves are vain." But when I thought how they the rocks had rent, And saw the sand and shingles at my feet Poor passive remnants of resistance spent Tumbled and tossed where they the waters meet, Then saw I ancient landmarks beneath the waves, And knew the waters held the stones their slaves. I saw the mighty work the waters wrought By patient softness and unceasing flow; How they the proudest promontory brought Unto their feet, and mossy hills laid low How the soft drops the adamantine wall Conquered at last, and brought it to its fall. And then I knew that hard, resisting sin Should yield at last to Love's soft ceaseless roll Coming and going, ever flowing in Upon the proud rocks of the human soul That all resistance should be spent and past, And every heart yield unto it at last. Through its laughing and its weeping, Through its living and its keeping, Through its follies and its labors, weaving in and out of sight, To the end from the beginning, Through all virtue and all sinning, Reeled from God's great spool of Progress, runs the golden thread of light." Questioning Life and Destiny and Truth, I sought the dark and labyrinthine Sphinx, Who spoke to me this strange and wondrous thing:- Concealment only lies in blinded eyes, And God alone can see the Form of God. I sought to solve this hidden mystery Vainly by paths of blindness and of pain, But when I found the Way of Love and Peace, Concealment ceased, and I was blind no more: Then saw I God even with the eyes of God. "Humbleness, truthfulness, and harmlessness, Patience and honor, reverence for the wise, Purity, constancy, control of self, Contempt of sense-delights, self-sacrifice, Perception of the certitude of ill In birth, death, age, disease, suffering and sin; An ever tranquil heart in fortunes good And fortunes evil . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Endeavors resolute To reach perception of the utmost soul, And grace to understand what gain it were So to attain this is true wisdom, Prince! And what is otherwise is ignorance!" This is peace, To conquer love of self and lust of life, To tear deep-rooted passion from the heart To still the inward strife." Great glory crowns the heights of hope by arduous struggle won; Bright honor rounds the hoary head that mighty works hath done; Fair riches come to him who strives in ways of golden gain, And fame enshrines his name who works with genius-glowing brain : But greater glory waits for him who, in the bloodless strife, 'Gainst self and wrong, adopts, in love, the sacrificial life; And brighter honor rounds the brow of him who, 'Mid the scorns Of blind idolaters of self, accepts the crown of thorns; And fairer, purer riches come to him who greatly strives To walk in ways of love and truth to sweeten human lives; And he who serveth well mankind exchanges fleeting fame For Light eternal, joy and Peace, and robes of heavenly flame. "Heaven's gate is very narrow and minute, It cannot be perceived by foolish men Blinded by vain illusions of the world Even the clear-sighted who discern the way, And seek to enter, find the portal barred, And hard to be unlocked. Its massive bolts Are pride and passion, avarice and lust." Never the Spirit was born, the Spirit will cease to be never, Never was time it was not, end and beginning are dreams; Birthless and deathless and changeless remaineth the Spirit forever, Death hath not touched it at all, dead though the house of it seems.
0 thou who would teach men of Truth Wordsworth: The soul that rises with us, our life's star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar, Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory, do we come From God, who is our home. In the Sentinel (19 October 1998) a beautiful poem by Edwin Markham (The Best Loved Poems of the American People, New York: Doubleday, 1936, p.67)
He drew a circle that shut me out
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My treasure chest I have made a map in my email inbox called "my treasure chest". In that map I keep all emails filled with sweet and kind words, that I have received. Of course I also keep there all notifications of payment and donations I have received. For these tangible tokens of appreciation are what enables me to continue the work. Most of the work I do on the website is very uplifting, but sometimes I have to correct errors or do something I find difficult. Every time I feel dispirited or burdened with too much work I take a look in my treasure chest. I read some of the emails and think with gratitude and joy about the buyers of the ebooks, hoping they enjoy the books as much as I have when I corrected the scanned file and read them, or when I wrote them. Then I feel encouraged to go on with my work. Thank you for your support and your wonderful reactions! |