Swiftly enough come the gods to a patient man. Generous are they to one who is grateful. Kind to those who perceive their kindness, and feel not entitled to honors, nor ostentatious display. Clearly do they speak to one who knows well how to listen, and attentively they heed the one acquainted with their ancient, noble tongue. The quiet mind perceives all silence a chorus, all sound a symphony.
The gods are not hidden from the eye which seeks them in earnest. The hand which is sensitive to the slightest touches them, and knows what it touches. Neither is their aspect fearful to the one who calls upon his courage, nor bewildering to the one who contemplates in faith.
Prayer is a subtle prescription for disease, only practiced by the man who labors for his health. Worship is a portent and expression of radiant well being. To a soul rightly composed, nothing in the world lacks harmony, nor majesty, nor is unfit to summon reverence. Presence itself clothes all things in priestly garb, and sets a crown of spun gold upon the lowliest rock.
To live is a great honor. To draw breath is to be imbued with sweet centuries of holy purpose. To stand in the fullness of one's strength is also to be granted an audience with the King of kings, in the throng of an angelic court, attentive to thy virtue. To be humbled is to be knighted, and given charge over a noble quest. With compassion, all the devils are extinguished, and the enemies of God converted to His cause.
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