I do not know, I cannot even guess With what strange spirit-gift these men are dowered Who now desire to find a bridge to us. But still I know well several honest men Within the ranks of this same Spirit-League. Strictly they guard the secret of the fount Whence this their knowledge is supposed to come; But that the fountain whence they drink is good, Their life and deeds make manifest to all. And all that from their circle issues forth Bears on its face the mark of truest love. So may we well believe the aim is good Which leads them in this special way to men, To whom the mystic path is strange and new, But in whose souls the instinct for the truth And honest goals of spirit-life find place.
Caution would seem to me our duty now. I think the mystics find the time draws nigh Which brings an ending to their sovereign power. Reason will scarcely ask in future times What dreams of truth these holy temples had. If this league tells of goals of such a kind As have seemed wise to mankind's general thought Then it were good to join our lot to theirs. Yet he had better shun the mystic's robe Who only seeks to pass the portal by, Which, like some barrier of heavenly light, Shuts out his present life from other worlds. For in that world 'twill be of small account What value each shall put upon himself. No higher value shall each one receive Than universal judgment granteth him.
So much that here I needs must listen to Sounds like the words of those poor blinded men Who cannot see the noble spirit-light Which streams from every consecrated shrine In rays of wisdom to the outer world To comfort and to heal the souls of men. He only in whose heart this light doth shine, And pierce with warming glow his inmost soul Can recognize the true worth of this hour, Which opens up the mystic's solemn realm Even to those who feel themselves too weak To reach, through deep soul struggle, to the high And consecrate abodes of spirit-light.
Many sure signs show plainly much must change Within those souls who strive to follow close This guidance, in their daily life on earth; But little can be said which goes to prove That mystic ways can lead on to those ends Which bring strong powers into the souls of men. It seems to me that what our time requires Is leaders, who by using nature's powers Can join dexterity to genius, And working thus amidst the things of Earth Fulfil their purpose in the world of men. Such men do search for roots of spirit-work Deep in the mother-earth of truth itself, And thus are kept from idle wandering Along the path away from human health. Feeling myself possessed with this idea I recognize in doctor Strader's self The powers which for such guidance of the soul Are better suited than the mystics' are. How long hath man with sorrow had to feel That thro' the great inventions of technique Full many a fetter has been riveted On the free spirit-instinct in his soul. But now a hope doth rise within the breast Whereof none heretofore can e'er have dreamed. In Strader's workshops we can see, in small, The working of those wonders, which, in great Shall soon transform the meaning of technique And free its shoulders from that heavy load Which in our day doth weigh on many souls.