in the rank primeval jungles of the human mind.
There also dwell the dark shapes of remorse and pain and suffering, and the drooping forms of grief and sorrow and lamentation.
In this dark world the unwise live and die, not knowing the peace of purity, nor the joy of that Divine Light which forever shines above them, and for them, yet shines in vain so long as it falls on unseeing eyes which look not up, but are ever bent earthward—fleshward.
But the wise look up. They are not satisfied with this passion-world, and they bend their steps towards the upper world of peace, the light and glory of which they behold, at first afar off, but nearer and with ever increasing splendor as they ascend.
None can fall lower than passion, but all can rise higher. In that lowest place where further descent is impossible, all who move forward must ascend; and the ascending
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