On Religion

And an old priest said, Speak to us

of Religion.

And he said:

Have I spoken this day of aught else?

Is not religion all deeds and all

reflection,

And that which is neither deed nor

reflection, but a wonder and a surprise

ever springing in the soul, even while

the hands hew the stone or tend the

loom?

Who can separate his faith from

his actions, or his belief from his

occupations?

Who can spread his hours before him,

saying, “This for God and this for

myself; This for my soul, and this other

for my body?”

All your hours are wings that beat

through space from self to self.

He who wears his morality but as his best

garment were better naked.

The wind and the sun will tear no holes

in his skin.

And he who defines his conduct by ethics

imprisons his song-bird in a cage.

The freest song comes not through bars

and wires.

And he to whom worshipping is a window,

to open but also to shut, has not yet

visited the house of his soul whose

windows are from dawn to dawn.

Your daily life is your temple and your

religion.

Whenever you enter into it take with you

your all.

Take the plough and the forge and the

mallet and the lute,

The things you have fashioned in

necessity or for delight.

For in revery you cannot rise above your

achievements nor fall lower than your

failures.

And take with you all men:

For in adoration you cannot fly higher than

their hopes nor humble yourself lower

than their despair.

And if you would know God be not

therefore a solver of riddles.

Rather look about you and you shall see

Him playing with your children.

And look into space; you shall see Him

walking in the cloud, outstretching His

arms in the lightning and descending in

rain.

You shall see Him smiling in flowers,

then rising and waving His hands in

trees.