The separate life of individual men Is linked most wisely to the world's design. Amongst our brothers there will surely be Some who have given proof of competence To serve our brotherhood with their soul's power And yet whose nature still shows many a stain. The errors and misdeeds of such a heart Must find their expiation in the pain Suffered by it in service for the whole And he who, blameless both in act and deed, Must none the less walk in the thorny way Traced by the Karma of the brotherhood, Will find his pain requited by the power To mount aloft unto the higher life.
So then the brotherhood may tolerate Within its ranks souls not yet purified Who vow themselves to its exalted aims?
He who to lofty works is dedicate Doth mark alone the goodness in men's souls; He lets the evil work its ransom out As cosmic justice in its course decides. My brothers, I have bid you meet me here In order to remind you with grave words That we have duties in our days of grief. We must be ready to lay down our lives For those high purposes to which we swore Lifelong allegiance. Ye then are indeed My brothers, if undauntedly your souls Repeat the motto of our brotherhood: 'Both separateness and life must be forsworn By those who would set eyes on spirit-goals Through occult senses unto them revealed; Who dare to let the spirit's will pour down And flood their individual purposes.'
Exalted Master, shouldst thou deign to test The heart of each man in our brotherhood, It would repeat that motto loud and clear!-- Yet do we beg thee to explain to us Why, not content with robbing us of life And our possessions, now our enemies Would rob us also of those humble souls Whom we have tended with unselfish love. For every day affords new evidence That not alone compulsion makes our folk Submit themselves unto our conquerors; But that indeed they too have learned to hate The spirit-path which we had shown to them.
That which we have implanted in men's souls May die indeed today; but these same men, Who once have breathed our spirit-radiance, Will come again to earth, and then bestow Upon the world the fruitage of our work. Thus speaks unto my spirit oftentimes Our mighty leader from the realm of death, When in my quiet hours, I do sink down Into my soul's deep places, and arouse Strength to abide awhile in spirit-lands. Then may I feel the master's presence near And hear his words, as in the life of sense I often heard them. Never doth he speak About our work as drawing to a close; But only of fulfilment of our aims In later days that are to come on earth.