# Scene 7

*Exterior of a temple somewhat Egyptian in appearance. A place of initiation in the far-distant past in this Earth's third stage of post-Atlantean civilisation. A conversation between the hierophant, the keeper of the temple, and a Mystic. (See explanation of these characters on pages 244 and 245.)*

Hierophant:  
Are all the preparations duly made,  
My keeper of the temple, to the end  
Our holy rite may serve both gods and men?

*Keeper:*  
So far as human forethought can provide  
All hath been well prepared; a holy breath  
Hath filled the temple now for many days.

*Hierophant:*  
My mystic, seeing that the priest to whom  
This very day our secret wisdom's store  
Will ceremoniously be revealed  
Is to become a royal counsellor;  
Hast thou by testing him assured thyself  
That he is not entirely given o'er  
To wisdom divine, neglecting earthly cares  
Shutting his ear to all but spirit lore?  
For such a counsellor would do us harm.

*Mystic:*  
The tests were given as the law ordains,  
The masters found them adequate; I think  
Our mystic hath but little natural taste  
For earthly cares; his soul is set upon  
His spirit-progress and development  
Of self; in spirit trance he oft is seen.  
'Tis not too much to say he revels in  
The union of the spirit with his soul.

*Hierophant:*  
Hast thou then often seen him in this state?

*Mystic:*  
In truth he may thus frequently be seen.  
His nature doubtless is inclined toward  
The temple's service rather than the state's.

*Hierophant:*  
It is enough. Now go to thine own place  
And see our holy rite is well performed;

*(Exit Mystic.)*

To thee, my keeper, I have more to say.  
Thou knowest how I prize thy mystic gifts:  
To me thou bearest wisdom far beyond  
That which befits thy status in this shrine.  
Oft to thy seership have I had recourse  
To prove what mine own spirit-sight hath seen.  
And so I ask, what confidence hast thou  
That this new mystic is for spirit ripe?

*Keeper:*  
Who asks for my opinion? Is my voice  
Of any worth?

*Hierophant:*  
It aye hath worth for me.  
To-day again thou shalt stand by my side;  
We must more closely watch this holy rite  
With inward sight: and, should the ‘mystic’ prove  
E'en in the slightest way unripe as yet  
For its high meaning in the spirit life,  
I shall refuse him rank as ‘counsellor.’

*Keeper:*  
What is it then that now might be revealed  
In this new ‘mystic’ at our holy rite?

*Hierophant:*  
I know he is not worthy of the trust  
The temple servants seek to give to him.  
His human nature is well known to me.  
His mystic-sense is not that heartfelt urge  
Which stirs in men when light from spirit realms  
In kindness draws souls upwards to itself.  
Strong passion surges in his being yet;  
The craving of his senses is not stilled.  
Indeed I would not blame the will divine,  
Which e'en in craving and in passion pours  
Its wisdom-light o'er evolution's stream.  
But when the craving doth conceal itself,  
And revel 'neath devotion's mystic mask,  
It causeth thought to lie, and makes will false.  
The light that weaves the web of spirit-worlds  
Can never penetrate unto such souls,  
Since passion spreads a mystic fog between.

*Keeper:*  
My hierophant, thy judgment is severe  
In dealing with a man who still is young  
And inexperienced, who can neither know  
Himself, nor take another course than that  
Which priestly guides and mystic leaders say  
Doth reach the goal along the soul's true path.

*Hierophant:*  
I do not judge the man, I judge the deed  
That will be wrought here in this holy place.  
This holy mystic rite, which we perform  
Hath not importance for ourselves alone.  
Fate's stream of cosmic evolution pours  
Through word and deed of sacred priestly rites.  
What happens here in pictures comes to pass  
In everlasting life in spirit-worlds.  
But now, good keeper, get thee to thy task;  
Thou wilt thyself discover how to lend  
Assistance to me in this holy rite

*(Exit Keeper, right.)*

This youthful mystic will not be to blame,  
Who hopes this day to dedicate himself  
Unto the wisdom, if in these next hours  
A wrong emotion, such as may gush out  
Unheeded from his heart, should throw its rays  
Upon our sacred rite, and in this act  
Should through our symbols draw nigh spirit-spheres,  
Whence ill results in consequence must flow  
Into the current of our human life.  
The guides and leaders are themselves to blame.  
Have they not learned to know the mystic force  
Which penetrates in some mysterious way  
With spirit, every word and sign of ours;  
And ceases not from action even when  
The contents of a soul are poured therein  
Which hinders cosmic evolution's course?  
Instead of this young mystic consciously  
Here to the spirit off'ring up himself,  
His teachers drag him like a sacrifice  
Into the holy precincts, where his soul  
Unconsciously he to the spirit yields.  
For verily he would not take this road  
If he were conscious master of his soul.  
Within the circle of our mysteries  
The highest hierophant alone doth know  
What mystic truths live in our sacred forms;  
But he is dumb as solitude itself.  
Such silence his high dignity commands.  
The others gaze uncomprehendingly  
When of our ritual's real intent I speak.

So am I left to bear my cares alone;  
Well-nigh unbearable their burden seems  
When all the meaning of our ritual  
And of our temple is borne in on me.  
One thing especially I deeply feel—  
The solitude of this stern spirit-shrine.  
Why do I feel so lonely in this place?  
The soul must ask this question. When, ah, when  
Will to my soul the spirit make reply?