that control their wrongness; and getting these right if we can.  Consider what human society would be if each of its members—­not merely occasional philanthropists, idealists or saints, but financiers, politicians, traders, employers, employed—­had this quality of spreading a creative love:  if the whole impulse of life in every man and woman were towards such a harmony, first with God, and then with all other things and souls.  There is nothing unnatural in this conception.  It only means that our vital energy would flow in its real channel at last.  Where then would be our most heart-searching social problems?  The social order then would really be an order; tallying with St. Augustine’s definition of a virtuous life as the ordering of love.

What about the master and the worker in such a possibly regenerated social order?  Consider alone the immense release of energy for work needing to be done, if the civil wars of civilized man could cease and be replaced by that other mental fight, for the upbuilding of Jerusalem:  how the impulse of Creative Spirit, surely working in humanity, would find the way made clear.  Would not this, at last, actualize the Pauline dream, of each single citizen as a member of the Body of Christ?  It is because we are not thus attuned to life, and surrendered to it, that our social confusion arises; the conflict of impulse within society simply mirrors the conflict of impulse within each individual mind.

We know that some of the greatest movements of history, veritable transformations of the group-mind, can be traced back to a tiny beginning in the faithful spiritual experience and response of some one man, his contact with the centre which started the ripples of creative love.  If, then, we could elevate such universalized individuals into the position of herd-leaders, spread their secret, persuade society first to imitate them, and then to share their point of view, the real and sane, because love-impelled social revolution might begin.  It will begin, when more and ever more people find themselves unable to participate in, or reap advantage from, the things which conflict with love:  when tender emotion in man is so universalized, that it controls the instincts of acquisitiveness and of self-assertion.  There are already for each of us some things in which we cannot participate, because they conflict too flagrantly with some aspect of our love, either for truth, or for justice, or for humanity, or for God; and these things each individual, according to his own level of realization, is bound to oppose without compromise.  Most of us have enough widespreading love to be—­for instance—­quite free from temptation to be cruel, at any rate directly, to children or to animals.  I say nothing about the indirect tortures which our sloth and insensitiveness still permit.  Were these first flickers made ardent, and did they control all our reactions to life—­and there is nothing abnormal, no break in continuity involved in this, only a reasonable