And one evening as we sat beside the stream He said: “Behold the brook and listen to its music. Forever shall it seek the sea, and though it is forever seeking, it sings its mystery from noon to noon.
“Would that you seek the Father as the brook seeks the sea.”
Then came the summer of His ecstasy, and the June of His love was upon us. He spoke of naught then but the other man—the neighbour, the road-fellow, the stranger, and our childhood’s playmates.
He spoke of the traveller journeying from the east to Egypt, of the ploughman coming home with his oxen at eventide, of the chance guest led by dusk to our door.
And He would say: “Your neighbour is your unknown self made visible. His face shall be reflected in your still waters, and if you gaze therein you shall behold your own countenance.
“Should you listen in the night, you shall hear him speak, and his words shall be the throbbing of your own heart.
“Be unto him that which you would have him be unto you.
“This is my law, and I shall say it unto you, and unto your children, and they unto their children until time is spent and generations are no more.”
And on another day He said: “You shall not be yourself alone. You are in the deeds of other men, and they though unknowing are with you all your days.
“They shall not commit a crime and your hand not be with their hand.
“They shall not fall down but that you shall also fall down; and they shall not rise but that you shall rise with them.