“Why then goest thou as some Boswell or literary worshipper to this saint or to that?  That is the only lese-majesty.  Here art thou with whom so long the universe travailed in labor; darest thou think meanly of thyself whom the stalwart Fate brought forth to unite his ragged sides, to shoot the gulf, to reconcile the irreconcilable?”

That there is an “intimate divinity” which is the source of all true wisdom, that the duty of man is to listen to its voice and to follow it, that “the sanity of man needs the poise of this immanent force,” that the rule is “Do what you know, and perception is converted into character,”—­all this is strongly enforced and richly illustrated in this Oration.  Just how easily it was followed by the audience, just how far they were satisfied with its large principles wrought into a few broad precepts, it would be easier at this time to ask than to learn.  We notice not so much the novelty of the ideas to be found in this discourse on “The Method of Nature,” as the pictorial beauty of their expression.  The deep reverence which underlies all Emerson’s speculations is well shown in this paragraph:—­

“We ought to celebrate this hour by expressions of manly joy.  Not thanks nor prayer seem quite the highest or truest name for our communication with the infinite,—­but glad and conspiring reception,—­reception that becomes giving in its turn as the receiver is only the All-Giver in part and in infancy.”—­“It is God in us which checks the language of petition by grander thought.  In the bottom of the heart it is said:  ’I am, and by me, O child! this fair body and world of thine stands and grows.  I am, all things are mine; and all mine are thine.’”

We must not quarrel with his peculiar expressions.  He says, in this same paragraph, “I cannot,—­nor can any man,—­speak precisely of things so sublime; but it seems to me the wit of man, his strength, his grace, his tendency, his art, is the grace and the presence of God.  It is beyond explanation.”

“We can point nowhere to anything final but tendency; but tendency appears on all hands; planet, system, constellation, total nature is growing like a field of maize in July; is becoming something else; is in rapid metamorphosis.  The embryo does not more strive to be man, than yonder burr of light we call a nebula tends to be a ring, a comet, a globe, and parent of new stars.”  “In short, the spirit and peculiarity of that impression nature makes on us is this, that it does not exist to any one, or to any number of particular ends, but to numberless and endless benefit; that there is in it no private will, no rebel leaf or limb, but the whole is oppressed by one superincumbent tendency, obeys that redundancy or excess of life which in conscious beings we call ecstasy.”

Here is another of those almost lyrical passages which seem too long for the music of rhythm and the resonance of rhyme.