PDF version - Geae

the hearts of women – of mothers and wives, and the virile affection of the hearts of men. God generates and
calls forth love, for it is beauty infinite, and the characteristic of beauty is to create love.
Who, on a summer day, with the sun illuminating the immense blue cupola above, with woods, fields,
mountains, and seas offering up mute adoration to the Creator, who has not felt these radiations of love filling
the universe? One must have refused to open his heart to these subtle influences if he ignores or denies them.
Too many earthly souls, it is true, remain hermetically sealed to divine things. Or if they feel the harmonies
and beauties, they hide the secret in themselves. They are ashamed to confess their consciousness of these
great influences. Open the windows of your prison, O man, to the glory of life eternal, and that prison will be
filled with light and melody! Your soul will be flooded with felicities and ecstasies indescribable. It will
understand that it is surrounded by an ocean of love and divine force in whose waves it may bathe and be
regenerated at will.
A consciousness will come of the sovereign power of the universe which envelops and sustains us, and
that by invoking it, and addressing to it an ardent appeal, the soul will be penetrated by its presence and love.
These things are difficult to express; they are only understood by those who have tasted them. Nevertheless, all
can arrive at this knowledge, and can possess it by awakening the divine in themselves. There is no man so
wicked, who in the hour of suffering does not become dimly conscious of higher things, who does not feel a
little of the divine love filtering through him. It is only necessary to feel these impressions once never to forget
them, and when the evening of life comes with disenchantments, when the twilight shadows fall about us, then
these powerful sensations awaken in us the memory of all the joys we have felt; and the souvenir of hours
when we have truly loved, like a delicious dew descends upon our souls, dried by the arid winds of trials and
sorrows.
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