Part 33

“Aye, and more. List! The earth’s baggage, hate, and might, and scorn, fall at earth’s leave, a dust o’ naught, like the dust o’ thy body crumbleth.

“Thou canst strip the body, yea, but the soul defieth thee!”

* * * * *

The visitor referred to in the preceding talk is a frequent guest of the Currans, and is one of the loved ones of Patience. This visitor, who is a widow, remarked one evening that Patience was deep and lived in a deep place.

“Aye,” said Patience, “a deeper than word. There be ahere what thou knowest abetter far than word o’ me might tell. (This seems to refer to the visitor’s husband.) Ayea thou hungereth, and bread be thine, for from off lips that spaked not o’ the land o’ here in word o’ little weight, thou hast supped of love, and know the path that be atrod by him shall be atrod even so by thee, e’en tho’ thou shouldst find the mountain’s height and pits o’ depth past Earth’s tung.

“Shouldst thou at come o’ here to hark unto the sound of this voice, thinkest thou that heights, aye or depths, might keep thee from there? And even so, doth not the one thou seeketh too, haste e’en now to find the path and waiteth?

“Then thinkest thou this journey be lone? Nay, I tell thee, thou art areach e’en past the ye o’ ye, and he areach ato. Then shall the path’s ope be its end and beginning. In love is the end and beginning of things.

“Yea, yea, yea, the earth suppeth o’ the word o’ me, and e’en at the supping stoppeth and speaketh so. What that one not o’ me doth brew. Thou knowest this, dame. Aye, but what then? And why doth not the blood o’ me speak unto me?

“’Tis a merry I be. Lo, have I not fetched forth unto a day that holdeth little o’ the blood o’ me, that I might deal alike unto my brother and bring forth word that be ahungered for aye, and they speak them o’ her ahere and wag and hark not? Yea, and did the blood o’ them spake out unto their very ears I vow me ’twould set the earth ariot o’ fearing. Yea, man loveth blood that hath not flowed, but sicketh o’er spilled blood. Yea, then weave.”

There was some discussion following this, to the effect that whatever explanations might be given of this phenomenon, many would believe in Patience Worth as an independent personality, which brought from her the following discourse which may well conclude these conversations:

“Yea, the tooth o’ him who eateth up the flesh I did to cloak me athin, shall rot and he shalt wither. Aye, and the word o’ me shalt stand. Fires but bake awell.

“Sweet hath the sound of the word o’ Him asounded unto the ears o’ Earth that hark not.

“Yea, and He hath beat upon the busom of Earth and sounded out a loud noise, and Earth harkened not.

“And He hath sung thro’ the mother’s songs o’ Earth, and Earth harkened not.

“Yea, and He hath sent His own with word, and Earth harkened not.

“Then ’tis Earth’s own folly that batheth her.

“Yea, and Folly cometh astreaming ribbands, and showering color, and grinning ’pon his way.

“Yea, but Folly masketh and leadeth Earth and man assuredly unto Follies pit—self. And self is blind.

“Then whence doth Earth to turn for aid? For Folly followeth not the blind, and the voice of him who falleth unto the pit of Folly soundeth out a loud note. Yea, and it echoeth ’self.’

“And lo, the Earth filled up o’ self, hearketh not unto the words of Him, the King of Wisdom.

“Yea, and I say unto thee, though them o’ Him fall pierced and rent athin the flow o’ their own blood thro’ the self-song o’ his brother, he doeth this for Him.

“And the measuring rod shall weight out for him who packeth the least o’ self athin him, afull o’ measure, and light for him who packeth heavy o’ self.

“Ayea, and more. I speak me o’ lands wherein the high estate be self. Yea, yea, yea, o’ thy lands do I to speak. Woe unto him who feareth that might shall slay! Self may wield a mighty blow, but it slayeth never.

“’Tis as the dame who watcheth o’er her brood, and lo, this one hath sorry, and that one hath sorry. And she flitteth here and yon, and lo, afore she hath fetched out the herbs, they sleep them peaceful. So shall it be at this time. The herbs shall be fetched forth but lo, the lands shall sleep them peaceful.

“Yea, for Folly leadeth, and Wisdom warreth Folly.”

RELIGION

“Teach me that I be Ye.”

And now we well may ask: What is the purpose of all this? Here we appear to have an invisible intelligence, speaking an obsolete language, producing volumes of poetry containing many evidences of profound wisdom. So far as I have been able to find out, no such phenomenon has occurred before since the world began. Do not misunderstand that assertion. There is nothing extraordinary in the manner of its coming, as I have said before. The publications of the Society for Psychical Research are filled with examples of communications received in the same or a similar way. The fact that makes this phenomenon stand out, that altogether isolates it from everything else of an occult nature, is the character and quality of its literature. Literature is something tangible, something that one can lay hands on, so to speak. It is in a sense physical; it can be seen with the eyes. And this literature is the physical evidence which Patience Worth presents of herself as a separate and distinct personality.