And here in your North Country your bards of old sang of Prometheus, the fire-bringer, he who was the desire of man fulfilled, the cagèd hope made free; and Orpheus, who came with a voice and a lyre to quicken the spirit in beast and man.
And know you not of Mithra the king, and of Zoroaster the prophet of the Persians, who woke from man’s ancient sleep and stood at the bed of our dreaming?
We ourselves become man anointed when we meet in the Temple Invisible, once every thousand years. Then comes one forth embodied, and at His coming our silence turns to singing.
Yet our ears turn not always to listening nor our eyes to seeing.
Jesus the Nazarene was born and reared like ourselves; His mother and father were like our parents, and He was a man.
But the Christ, the Word, who was in the beginning, the Spirit who would have us live our fuller life, came unto Jesus and was with Him.
And the Spirit was the versèd hand of the Lord, and Jesus was the harp.
The Spirit was the psalm, and Jesus was the turn thereof.
And Jesus, the Man of Nazareth, was the host and the mouthpiece of the Christ, who walked with us in the sun and who called us His friends.
In those days the hills of Galilee and her valleys heard but His voice. And I was a youth then, and trod in His path and pursued His footprints.
I pursued His footprints and trod in His path, to hear the words of the Christ from the lips of Jesus of Galilee.
Now you would know why some of us call Him the Son of Man.