in it, but having no relation to re1igion," is to him a contradiction in terms. Politics, morals, commerce, all that has to do with conscience must be religion.
Naturally, his imagination is profoundly stirred by the “Sermon on the Mount,” and the idea of self-renunciation pictured there, as well as in the Bhagavad Gita and "The Light of Asia," wins his complete assent. Self-mastery, self-denial, self-surrender, under the guidance af the Spirit of God, are, in his conception of life, stepping-stones to the ultimate goal of all—the goal of Buddha, the goal, as he interprets it, of John the Evangelist—absolute absorption of redeemed Man in God.
I question whether any religious creed would be large enough to express his view, or any Church system ample enough to shut him in. Jew and Christian, Hindu, Mohammedan, Farsi, Buddhist, and Confucian, all have their places in his heart, as children of the same Father. "Are you, then, a Theosophist?" I asked. "No," he said emphatically, "I am not a Theosophist. There is much in Theosophy that attracts me, but I have never been able to subscribe to the creed of Theosophists."
This breadth of sympathy is, indeed, one note