That voice in my interior, which I believe, and for the sake of which I believe all else that I believe, commands me not merely to act in the abstract.  That is impossible.  All these general propositions are formed only by my voluntary attention and reflection directed to various facts; but they do not express a single fact of themselves.  This voice of my conscience prescribes to me with certainty, in each particular situation of my existence, what I must do and what I must avoid in that situation.  It accompanies me, if I will but listen to it with attention, through all the events of my life, and never refuses its reward where I am called to act.  It establishes immediate conviction, and irresistibly compels my assent.  It is impossible for me to contend against it.

To harken to that voice, honestly and dispassionately, without fear and without useless speculation to obey it—­this is my sole destination, this the whole aim of my existence.  My life ceases to be an empty sport, without truth or meaning.  There is something to be done, simply because it must be done—­namely, that which conscience demands of me who find myself in this particular position.  I exist solely in order that it may be fulfilled.  To perceive it, I have understanding; to do it, power.

Through these commandments of conscience alone come truth and reality into my conceptions.  I cannot refuse attention and obedience to them without renouncing my destination.  I cannot, therefore, withhold my belief in the reality which they bring before me, without, at the same time, denying my destination.  It is absolutely true, without further examination and demonstration—­it is the first truth and the foundation of all other truth and certainty—­that I must obey that voice.  Consequently, according to this way of thinking, everything becomes true and real for me which the possibility of such obedience presupposes.

There hover before me phenomena in space, to which I transfer the idea of my own being.  I represent them to myself as beings of my own kind.  Consistent speculation has taught me or will teach me that these supposed rational beings, without me, are only products of my own conception; that I am necessitated, once for all, by laws of thought which can be shown to exist, to represent the idea of myself out of myself, and that, according to the same laws, this idea can be transferred only to certain definite perceptions.  But the voice of my conscience cries to me:  “Whatever these beings may be in and for themselves, thou shalt treat them as subsisting for themselves, as free, self-existing beings, entirely independent of thyself.  Take it for granted that they are capable of proposing to themselves aims independently of thee, by their own power.  Never disturb the execution of these, their designs, but further them rather, with all thy might.  Respect their liberty.  Embrace with love their objects as thine own.”  So must I act.  And to such action shall, will, and must