Stanzas for Disciples Text

Seek not, O twice-blessed One, to attain the spiritual essence before the mind absorbs. Not thus is wisdom sought. Only he who has the mind in leash, and sees the world as in a mirror can be safely trusted with the inner sense. Only he who knows the five senses to be but illusion, and that naught remains save the two ahead, can be admitted into the secret of the Cruciform transposed.

The path that is trodden by the Server is the path of fire that passes through his heart and leads to the head. It is not on the path of pleasure, nor on the path of pain that liberation may be taken or that wisdom comes. It is by the transcendence of the two, by the blending of pain with pleasure, that the goal is reached, that goal that lies ahead, like a point of light seen in the darkness of a winter's night. That point of light may call to mind the tiny candle in some attic drear, but - as the path that leads to that light is trodden through the blending of the pair of opposites - that pin point cold and flickering grows with steady radiance till the warm light of some blazing lamp comes to the mind of the wanderer by the way.

Pass on, O Pilgrim, with steady perseverance. No candle light is there nor earth lamp fed with oil. Ever the radiance grows till the path ends within a blaze of glory, and the wanderer through the night becomes the child of the sun, and enters within the portals of that radiant orb.

Listen, O Pilgrim, to the chanting of the Word by the great Deva Lords. Hush all earth vibration, still the restless strivings, of lower mind, and with ear intent hark to the sounds that rise to the throne of the Logos. Only the pure in heart can hear, only the gentle can respond.

The stormy sounds of all earth struggle, the shrill vibration of the watery sphere, the crashing note marking the place of thought, dims the sound and shuts out the tone. He who is silent, quiet and calm within, who sees all by means of light divine and is not led by light reflected within the threefold spheres, is he who will shortly hear. From out the environing ether will strike a note upon his ear unlike the tones that sound within the world terrestrial.

Listen, O Pilgrim, for when that sound strikes in colorful vibration upon the inner sense, know that a point has been achieved marking a great transition.

Watch then, O Pilgrim, for the coming of that hour. With purified endeavor mount nearer to that Sound. Know when its tone steals through the misty dawn, or in the mellow sunlight strikes soft upon the ear, that soon the inner hearing will become expanded feeling and will give place to sight and perfect comprehension.

Know when the music of the spheres comes to you note by note, in misty dawn or sunny noon, at cool of eve, or sounding through the deep of night, that in their rhythmic tone lies secret revelation.

A center of violet, orbed by yellow, melts into red. Yellow develops and protects. It ensheaths the nucleus. When you attain the significance of violet, the laws of health and magnetic alleviation will be no longer sealed. The seal is being loosed by the devas of the shadows; the yellow approaches the violet and the red progresses. The ranks approach and cooperation is possible. In loosening the seal the gateway opens. These three are the great Helpers and in Their hands lies knowledge for the next generation. Approach.

Key the first lies hid under the Threshold, guarded by the Watcher. He who breaks in must stoop and seize after a search of strenuous decision. The hand that grasps the key must have the nail-mark through the center there located. When this is so, door the first will open.

Key the second lies across the Threshold, over the heap of thorns. From the centers in the feet must pour the blood that dissolves all hindrances. In the bloodstained feet and the nail-marked hands lies hid the secret. Seek you them. Then door the second will open to your touch.

Key the third lies half way up. Just at the level of the heart that key is seen. Before it can be seized and used the spear must pierce and thus the blood pour forth, cleansing and making whole. Only those thus purified can grasp the key and pass through door the third.

In the mystic Heart, with its two lobes, lies the key to the reservoir. In the outgoing and the return the cross is made. Midway it stands, with the right hand and the left hand path on either side. There the man is crucified, with the two on either hand - one on the right and one on the left. In the apprehension of the key, in the opening and shutting of doors, lies life eternal. Know you and understand.

The lower chalice rises like a flower of color dark or somber. Dull it appears to the outer vision, but within a light will sometime shine and shatter the illusion.

Chalice the second rises from out the lower sheath as does the flower from out the calix green. Of color rose it is, and many shades thereof; and to the onlooker it seems as if the color might transcend the inner shining light. But this is but illusion which time itself dispels.

Chalice the third surmounts all and opens wide in time its outspread petals. Blue does it appear and blends with the rose, forming at first a deep impenetrable shade which shuts out the light.

Within the three, deep hidden in the heart, tiny at first yet ever waxing greater, shines the light divine. This light, through radiating heat and innate divine vibration, constructs for itself a sheath of iridescence. It emerges from the threefold chalice as a floating bubble alights on a flower.

Within this iridescent sheath burns the inner Flame, and in its turn it burns out the lower gross material. E'en as the Path is neared, clearer the light shines out. Forth through the chalice gross and dark that forms the foundation shines the light supernal, till all who see the radiation cry out within themselves: "Behold, a God is here."

Forth from the chalice rosy red shines the inner glow, till soon the red of earth desire becomes the glow of heaven's fire, and all is lost save aspiration that shades not the cup with karmic color.

Forth from the chalice blue shines and glows the inner light divine till all the forms are burnt and gone, and naught is left save one divine abstraction. Naught but the shells remain below, naught but the forms for use, and at the culmination what strange event is seen? Tarry, O Pilgrim, at the strange appearance, with bowed head watch the progress of the fire. Slowly the chalice threefold merges into an altar, and from that triple altar mounts the fire unto its Source. As mounts and spreads the inner flame, the beauty of the central sphere, lit with a radiance white, causes the worlds to stand and cry: "Behold, a God is here."

Ever the flames mount higher, ever the warmth streams forth, till - in the moment of the hour set - the flame destroys all, and all is gone, the work of ages passes, in a moment, into nothingness.

But forth from the fourfold fire, up from the altar of the ages, springs the Liberated One, the Flame. Back to the fire of Cosmos springs the dual flame. Into the Three is absorbed the essence, and becomes one with its Source. The Spark becomes the Flame, the Flame becomes the Fire, and forms part of the great Cosmic blaze that holds the secret of the Five hidden within the heart.

p>There is a cup held to the lips of those who drink, by four great Lords of Karma. The draught within that cup must all be drained, down to the nethermost drop, e'er it is possible to fill the cup with a purer, sweeter one. The seven Lords of cosmic Love await the hour of filling.

The cup is naught. The draught within distils forth drop by drop. It will not all be drained until the final hour wherein the Pilgrim takes the cup. He lifts it from the hand of those Who, bending, hold it to his lips. Until that day the cup is held, and in inner blind dismay the Pilgrim drinks. After that hour he lifts his head; he sees the light beyond; he takes the cup and, with a radiant joy, drains to the very dregs.

The contents of the cup are changed; the bitter now becomes the sweet; the fiery essence then is lost in cool, life-giving streams. The fire absorbed within has burned and scarred and seared. The draught now taken soothes the burns; it heals the scars and permeates the whole.

The Four bend down and see the work. They release the cup of Karma. The tender Lords of Cosmic Love then mix another draught, and - when the cup is empty seen (emptied by conscious will) - they pour within that which is needed now for broader, larger living. Until the cup has once been used, filled, drained, and seen as naught, it cannot safely hold within that which is later given.

But when to utter emptiness the Pilgrim drains the cup then to the world in torment now he turns. With cup in hand (drained once, filled again, and refused to selfish need) he tends the need of struggling men who tread the way with him. The draught of love, of sacred fire, of cool, health-giving stream he lifts not towards himself but holds it forth to others. Upon the road of weary man he becomes a Lord of Power - power gained through work accomplished, power reached through consc Through the cup of Karma drained he gains the right to serve.

Look on, O Pilgrim, to the goal. See shining far ahead the glory that envelops and the light that naught can dim. Seize on the cup and swiftly drain, delay not for the pain. The empty cup, the steady hand, the firm and strong endeavor lead to a moment's agony and thence to radiant life.

Where is the gate, O Lanoo, which guards the triple-way?

Within the sacred heart of Him Who is the threefold Path. I reach the gate and pass within, entering thus the Heart, through the means of wide compassion.

How many gates are there, O Passer on the Way?

The gates are seven, each leading to the center of a great sphere of bliss. By the one who seeks to know, the first gate must be found. That entered, in periodic cycles he will find the other six.

You speak of wide compassion as the key that opens wide the gates. Explain in words the simplest the need that this involves.

The need of gentle mercy, which knows and sees yet understands; the need of tears of crystal to wash away a brother's sins; the need of fiery courage that can hold a brother's hand, and lift and elevate him though all the world cry "nay"; the need of comprehension, that has experienced and knows; the occult sense of oneness must guide unto the gate.

What else will lead a man to the portal of the Path?

Compassion first and conscious oneness; then death to every form that holds and hides the life; next wisdom linked with learning, and the wise use of the Word; speech of an occult nature and the silence of the Center, held in the noise of all the world.

Can you, O Lanoo, blend these thoughts into a threefold charge?

First Oneness, then the Word, and lastly Growth.

An immense cone of fire is seen in the midst of an arid desert. A man stands in front of the scene in an attitude of indecision. The cone stands between the man and a fruitful country.

Rises the cone from out the arid waste. Naught but its heat is felt, naught but its glare is seen. Its flames have swept the country and left the desert bare. It radiates forth a fire that devours all before it. All green things die and the dwellers on the sphere recede before its flame, scorching and burning, cruel and superb.

White is its inner heart, red the surrounding flame, and yellow the spreading fire. Like a mantle of fierce heat it shuts out the vision and obscures the beyond. Like a pall of rosy red tinged with an orange deep it veils all the distance.

From out the country full and green, across the arid waste had traveled far the Pilgrim. Naught had he held and kept, naught save his strong desire, back on the road he might not go, but onward to the fire.

From out that cone of fire, echoing from its heart, swift to his ears a voice that said: "Behold the place of God."

From out the cone of fire a note fell on his ear that touched a chord within his breast, and awakened quick response.

Press on, O Pilgrim, towards the flame; brave the fierce ardor of the fire; enter within the portal which is hidden by its light.

The door is there, unseen, unknown, watched by the Lords of Flame. Deep in the heart of yellow, close by the outer rim, lies the key that holds hid the secret. The threshold of that inner door, the step unseen that must be reached, will meet the feet within the fringe of flame. Put forth the hand and touch the door, knock thrice with pure intent. A voice will answer to that call. The words will sound: "Who is it seeks the way?"

The key is found; and with the pressure of the hands in service of the Light and with a beating heart of love, that key is turned. The door swings wide open.

With hasty feet the one who hastens towards the light enters that door; then waits. He holds the door ajar for those who follow after and thus - in action - waits.

A Voice sounds forth: My brother, close that door, for each must turn the key with his own hand and each must enter through that door alone. The blazing light within the Temple of the Lord is not for all at the same moment or the same hour of each day. Each knows his hour. Your hour is Now.

So, brother, close that door. Remember, those behind know not the door has opened or the door has closed. They see it not. Rest on that thought, my brother, and passing through the door close it with care, and enter upon another stage upon the upward Way - alone, yet not alone.

In the Cross is hidden Light. The vertical and horizontal in mutual friction create; a vibrant Cross scintillates, and motion originates. When the vertical assumes the horizontal, pralaya supervenes. Evolution is the movement of the horizontal to upright positiveness. In the secret of direction lies the hidden wisdom; in the doctrine of absorption lies the healing faculty; in the point becoming the line, and the line becoming the cross is evolution. In the cross swinging to the horizontal lies salvation and pralayic peace.

The point of light within the glowing arc, O Pilgrim on the Way, waxes and wanes as application hard or not betrays the purpose within the heart.

That point is ever there, unnoticed and unseen. Dark is the night and drear, and sore the heart of the unilluminated Pilgrim. Dark is the night but drearness is not felt when within the gloomy portal is seen the bright illusive light, the light that flickers ever on ahead, enticing with its gleam the Pilgrim ever onward.

Six times the light may wax and wane, six times the glow is felt, but at the seventh glowing hour the Flame bursts forth.

Six times the Flame bursts forth, six times the burning starts, but at the seventh hour the altar is lost sight of and only Flame is seen.

Six times the circle of the burning fire, six times the roaring furnace burns and separates, but at the seventh naught is left save the ascending Flame, that mounts to the Triadal Spirit.

Six times the Flame mounts up, six times the cloud recedes, but at the seventh naught is seen save everlasting fire.

Six times the Flame absorbs the water, six times the moisture disappears, but at the seventh great absorption naught is left save iridescent fire.

Three times the fire envelops, three times the sun recedes; at time the fourth the work is done, and naught is left save Flame primordial. That Flame absorbs, revolves, receives, and remains. When all that is has traversed the Flame, then Time is not.