which we call Spontaneity or Instinct.  We denote this primary wisdom as Intuition, whilst all later teachings are tuitions.  In that deep force, the last fact behind which analysis cannot go, all things find their common origin.  For the sense of being which in calm hours rises, we know not how, in the soul, is not diverse from things, from space, from light, from time, from man, but one with them, and proceeds obviously from the same source whence their life and being also proceed.  We first share the life by which things exist, and afterwards see them as appearances in nature, and forget that we have shared their cause.  Here is the fountain of action and of thought.  Here are the lungs of that inspiration which giveth man wisdom, and which cannot be denied without impiety and atheism.  We lie in the lap of immense intelligence, which makes us receivers of its truth and organs of its activity.  When we discern justice, when we discern truth, we do nothing of ourselves, but allow a passage to its beams.  If we ask whence this comes, if we seek to pry into the soul that causes, all philosophy is at fault.  Its presence or its absence is all we can affirm.  Every man discriminates between the voluntary acts of his mind, and his involuntary perceptions, and knows that to his involuntary perceptions a perfect faith is due.  He may err in the expression of them, but he knows that these things are so, like day and night, not to be disputed.  My willful actions and acquisitions are but roving;—­the idlest reverie, the faintest native emotion, command my curiosity and respect.  Thoughtless people contradict as readily the statement of perceptions as of opinions, or rather much more readily; for, they do not distinguish between perception and notion.  They fancy that I choose to see this or that thing.  But perception is not whimsical, it is fatal.  If I see a trait, my children will see it after me, and in course of time, all mankind,—­although it may chance that no one has seen it before me.  For my perception of it is as much a fact as the sun.

The relations of the soul to the divine spirit are so pure, that it is profane to seek to interpose helps.  It must be that when God speaketh he should communicate, not one thing, but all things; should fill the world with his voice; should scatter forth light, nature, time, souls, from the center of the present thought; and new date and new create the whole.  Whenever a mind is simple, and receives a divine wisdom, old things pass away,—­means, teachers, texts, temples, fall; it lives now, and absorbs past and future into the present hour.  All things are made sacred by relation to it,—­one as much as another.  All things are dissolved to their center by their cause, and, in the universal miracle, petty and particular miracles disappear.  If, therefore, a man claims to know and speak of God, and carries you backward to the phraseology of some old moldered nation in another country, in another world, believe