Chapter I.

A New Idea of Church Worship

Unquestionably the greatest of the many aids which Christ has provided for His people is the Sacrament of the Eucharist, commonly called the Mass— the most beautiful, the most wonderful, the most up lifting of the Christian ceremonies. It benefits not only the individual, as do the other Sacraments, but the entire congregation; it is of use not once only, like Baptism or Confirmation, but is intended for the helping of every churchman all his life long; and in addition to that, it affects the whole neighbourhood surrounding the church in which it is celebrated.

Men may ask us, as their children asked the Israelites of old: “What mean ye by this Service?” What is this Eucharist which you celebrate? We aught to be able to answer such a question intelligently; but in order to do so we must study certain aspects of the subject which have been generally forgotten; we abstract ourselves altogether from any limited or selfish point of view; we must realize that our religion is primarily intended to enable us to do loyal and fruitful service to our Lord and Master.

It must be remembered that true religion has always an objective side; it acts not only from within by stimulating the hearts and minds of its votaries, but also from without by arranging that uplifting and refining influences shall play constantly upon all their vehicles; nor does it confine its efforts to its own adherents, but also seeks through them to influence the ignorant and heedless world around. The temple or church is meant to be not only a place of worship, but also a centre of magnetic radiation through which spiritual force can be poured out upon a whole district.

It is necessary that such radiation should be done as economically as possible. The curious unscientific idea of miracles which has obtained among Christians for centuries has had a paralysing effect upon ecclesiastical thought, and has prevented intelligent comprehension of the method adopted by Christ in providing for His church. We should realize that such provision is made through the action of intermediate Powers, whose resources are by no means infinite, however stupendous they may be in comparison with ours. It is consequently the actual duty of such Powers to economize that force, and therefore to do what They are appointed to do in the easiest possible manner. For example, in this outpouring of spiritual force, it would be distinctly wasteful to pour it down indiscriminately everywhere like rain, because that would require the effort of its materialization to a lower level at thousands of places at once. It is obviously far more practical to establish at certain points definite magnetic centres, where the machinery of such materialization may be permanently arranged, so that when force is poured out from above it can be at once distributed without unnecessary waste in the erection of temporary machinery.

The plan adopted by the Christ with regard to this religion is that a special compartment of the great reservoir of spiritual force is set apart for its use, and that a certain order of officials is empowered, by the use of appointed ceremonies, words and signs of power, to draw upon it for the benefit of mankind. The scheme chosen for passing on this power is the Sacrament of Ordination, which will be explained in a later chapter. Anyone, to whom the whole idea of a reservoir of spiritual force is quite new, is referred to the account there given.

Through the ceremony of the Eucharist, each time it is celebrated, there passes forth into the world a wave of peace and strength, the effect of which can hardly be overrated, and we can scarcely be in error in regarding this as the primary object of the Service, for it is achieved at every celebration of the Holy Eucharist, whether it be High or Low, whether the Priest be alone in his private oratory or ministering to a vast congregation in some magnificent cathedral.

This idea is confirmed by the fact that when we thus meet together in the church we say that we have come to join in Divine Service. I believe that many people when they employ that phrase think that the service meant is the ascription of praise and worship to God; but it is hardly correct to describe that as service. It is very meet, right and our bounden duty that we should offer praise, humble worship and thanksgiving to the utmost of our power to the great Lord of all. It is a most excellent thing for us and a great benefit to our evolution; yet it would be unworthy and even blasphemous to suppose that an Infinite Being can derive any gratification from mere adulation; but when we meet together in order to build a thought-from or eucharistic edifice (as will later be described), through which His power can more easily be outpoured, we see at once the appropriateness of the word “service,” for we realize that we are literally offering ourselves as volunteers in His great army, and that in however humble a capacity, at however infinite a distance, we are actually becoming fellow-workers together with Him—surely the highest honour and the greatest privilege that can ever fall to the lot of man. It is significant that the literal meaning of the word “liturgy” is public work, the latter part of the word having precisely the same derivation as “energy”.

Another object is the effect produced upon those who are present at the Service, and a third is the still greater result obtained in the case of those who partake of the Holy Sacrament; but about these I shall write later. We have also to bear in mind its aspect as a wonderful and stately symbol, reminding us of the descent of the Second Person of the Trinity into matter, and also of the sacrifice of the Christ in taking a body and living a painfully restricted physical life in order to set before us in a new form the good news of the Ancient Wisdom. Devout fathers of the Church have thought that in the ritual of the Eucharist they could trace an allegorical representation of the alleged earthly life of the Christ. I am not in any way concerned to deny the truth of such suggestions or even to minimize their importance, but I wish to emphasize the aspect of the ceremony as an opportunity offered to us—an opportunity of work for God and for the world; to consider its actual effect upon various planes, and to describe something of the mechanism by means of which the effect is produced.

If this mechanism is clearly understood by Church members, they will find that they can usefully and efficiently co-operate with the clergy in a wonderfully beautiful piece of unselfish work, thereby not only greatly advancing their own evolution, but also distinctly ameliorating the mental and moral atmosphere of the city or countryside in which they live. When we realize how fine an opportunity is here offered to us, we shall see that it would be foolish, and indeed wrong, not to take advantage of it as often and as fully as we can. but in order to do that, some study and some mental effort are needed; and it is to help those who are in earnest to a fuller comprehension of the subject that this book is written.

The particular method devised for the reception and distribution of this down-pouring of energy is derived from the Mysteries of some of the older religions. It has been a favourite plan with them to convey influence from the Deity to His worshippers by means of specially consecrated food or drink— an obviously useful expedient, when the object is that the force should thoroughly permeate the man's physical body, and bring it into tune with the change which is simultaneously being introduced into the higher vehicles. To express in the strongest manner conceivable the intimacy of the relation between the Second Person of the blessed Trinity and the worshippers, and also to commemorate His eternal Sacrifice (for He is “the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world”), that which is eaten and drunk is called mystically His very Body and Blood. Perhaps to our taste in the present day some other expression might seem more attractive, but it would be ungrateful for the Christian to cavil at the symbolism adopted, when he is receiving so great a benefit.

Each of the great Services of the Church (and more especially the celebration of the Holy Eucharist) was originally designed to build up a mighty ordered form, expressing and surrounding a central idea—a form which would facilitate and direct the radiation of the influence upon the entire village which was grouped round the church. The idea of the Service may be said to be doubled: first, to receive and distribute the great outpouring of spiritual force, and secondly, to gather up the devotion of the people, and offer it before the throne of God.

In the case of the Eucharist, as celebrated by the Roman or the Greek Church, the different parts of the Service are grouped round the central act of consecration distinctly with a view to the symmetry of the great form produced, as well as to their direct effect upon the worshippers. The alterations made in the English Prayer book in 1552 were evidently the work of people who were ignorant of this side of the question, for they altogether disturbed that symmetry—which is one reason why it is an eminently desirable thing for the Church of England that it should as speedily as possible so arrange its affairs as to obtain permission to use as an alternative the Mass of King Edward VI, according to the Prayer Book of 1549. That is by no means a perfect Service, but it is at least better than the later revision, which is in many ways lamentable defective, for it neither provides adequate material for its eucharistic form, nor prays for an Angel to utilize such matter as it does supply. Its compilers seem to have constructed the Service solely for the benefit of those present at it, and to have missed altogether the enormously wider unselfish intention which was so clearly in the mind of the Founder.

One of the most important effects of the Church Service, both upon the immediate congregation and upon the surrounding district, has always been the creation of these beautiful and devotional thought forms, through which the down-pouring of life and strength from higher worlds can more readily take effect. These are better made and their efficiency enhanced when a considerable portion of those who take part in the Service do so with intelligent comprehension, yet even when the devotion is ignorant the result is still beautiful and uplifting.

Many of the sects which unhappily broke away from the Church entirely lost sight of this inner and more important side of public worship. The idea of the Service offered to God almost disappeared, and its place was largely taken by the fanatical preaching of narrow theological dogmas which were always unimportant and frequently ridiculous. Readers have sometimes expressed surprise that those who write from the standpoint of the inner vision should seem so decidedly to favour the practices of the Church, rather than those of the various sects whose thought is in many ways more liberal. The reason is shown precisely in this consideration of the inner side of things on which we are now engaged.

The student of that higher side of life which is as yet hidden from most of us recognizes most fully the value of the effort which made liberty of conscience and of thought possible; yet he cannot but see that those who cast aside the splendid old forms and Services of the Church lost in that very act almost the whole of one most important side of their religion, and made of it essentially a selfish and limited thing —a question chiefly of “personal salvation” for the individual, instead of the grateful offering of worship to God, which is in itself the never-failing channel through which the divine love is poured forth upon all.

The attainment of mental freedom was a necessary step in the process of human evolution; the clumsy and brutal manner which it was obtained, and the foolishness of the excesses into which gross ignorance led its champions, are responsible for many of the deplorable results which we see at the present day. The same savage, senseless lust for wanton destruction that moved Cromwell's brutal soldiers to break priceless statures and irreplaceable stained glass has also deprived the English Church to a great extent of the valuable effect produced in higher worlds by perpetual prayers for the dead, and by the practically universal devotion of the common people in the Middle Ages to the Saints and Angels. Then the great mass of the people was religious—even though ignorantly religious; now it is frankly and even boastfully irreligious. Perhaps this transitory stage is necessary, but it can hardly be considered in itself either beautiful or satisfactory.

If religion means “a binding back,” we must realize that it is meant not only to bind us individually back to God; it is meant to bind the whole of God's world back to Him; therefore we, if we be truly religious, we must be unselfish; we must be working together with Him, our Lord, for that glorious final consummation. We have come to think of religion too much as though it were only prayer and praise, or only devotion. Let us remember the proverb Laborare est orare, which means “to labour is to pray,” while we do not forget the companion saying Bene orasse est bene laborasse—”to have prayed well is to have worked well”. We call our religion largely prayer and praise; the religion of Ancient Egypt was called “the hidden work,” and the very same thing is still called by the name of work by another mighty organization, which, although it does not announce itself as a religion, is labouring for the same purpose—is also offering its worship to Him who is Wisdom, Strength and Beauty, just as truly and as beautifully as the Church offers hers.

So let us learn to serve with our minds as well as with our bodies. Let us try to understand this great and glorious Service which Christ gives to us not only for our own helping, but as a wondrous opportunity, a magnificent privilege, that we may share His divine work of service and sanctification with Him.

The eucharistic thought-edifice to which I have referred is constructed during and largely by means of the due performance of the ritual. This edifice differs somewhat from any of those figured in the book Thought-Forms,1 though it has much in common with the great music-forms depicted at the end of that work. At a Low Celebration the material for the building is provided by the thought and devotion of the Priest, aided by that of his congregation (if he has any); but at a High Celebration the music and other accessories play a prominent part in its erection. though the celebrant's words and feelings are still the controlling force, and in all cases there is a certain amount of angelic guidance and assistance. This edifice is constructed of matter belonging to various planes—mental, astral and etheric—and at a later stage of the Service the matter of still higher levels is introduced, as will presently be explained. So many factors enter into this manufacture that there is room for wide differences in size, style, decoration and colouring, but the general plan is always recognizably the same. It suggests the shape of a basilica; indeed, it is said that the Church of Santa Sophia at Constantinople was erected in imitation of some of these spiritual edifices. (Plate 1.)

Thought-Forms, by Annie Besant and C. W. Leadbeater. Those to whom the subject of the building of form in higher matter by the power of thought is new are recommended to read that work.

 

The completed structure is usually approximately square in ground plane, with a number of recessed openings or doors on each of its four sides, crowned by a large central dome, with smaller domes or sometimes minarets at its corners. The uprush of force at the Sanctus so magnifies the dome and its attendant cupolas that it becomes the important part of the edifice, and after that change the building below is rather the plinth supporting a dagoba than a church surmounted by a dome.

This gigantic thought-form is gradually built up during the earlier portion of the Service. The whole ritual is aimed at rightly building this form, charging it with divine force, and then discharging it; and each canticle or recitation contributes its share to this work, in addition to the part which it bears in the preparation of the hearts and minds of Priest and people. The edifice swells up from below like a bubble which is being blown. Broadly speaking it may be said that the opening Canticle provides its pavement and the Introit the material for its walls and roof, while the Kyrie supplies the subsidiary bowls or cupolas, and the Gloria the great central dome. The details of the edifice vary with the form of Service employed, and to some extent with the size and devotion of the congregation. That illustrated in this book is the result of the revised Liturgy as used by the Liberal Catholic Church. That made by the Roman Mass is the same in general appearance, but the unfortunate expressions which so constantly mar its beauty have a distinctly prejudicial effect upon this spiritual architecture.

As every student of history knows, in the form in which it is now used by the Roman Church, the Mass is not a coherent whole, but a conglomeration of parts taken from various earlier forms, and its wording is in some places trivial and quite unworthy of the august reality which it should express. But though the actual wording has passed through many changes, the efficacy of the underlying magic has not been fundamentally impaired. It still achieves the collection and radiation of divine force for which its Founder intended it, though unquestionably a larger amount of invaluable love and devotion might also be outpoured if all the fear and helplessness were removed from its phrasing, all the abject appeals for “mercy,” and the requests to God to do for us a number of things which we ought to set to work to do for ourselves. An endeavour has been made in the revised Liturgy used by the Liberal Catholic Church to introduce some improvement in this respect.

The Service used by the Church of England is sadly maimed and truncated, for it is evident that the so-called reformers knew nothing whatever of the real intention of the grand ritual which they so mercilessly mutilated, and so, though the Orders of the Church of England are valid and her Priests therefore have the power to draw upon the great reservoir of spiritual force, the edifice which she builds for its reception and distribution is seriously imperfect and comparatively ill-adapted to its purpose. This does not prevent the outpouring, but it diminishes the amount available for radiation, because much of the force has to be expended by the Angel-helpers in constructing machinery which should have been prepared for them by us.

This thought-edifice plays in the Service somewhat the same part as the condenser in a plant for the distillation of water. The steam pours out from the retort, and would dissipate itself in the surrounding air if it were not received into a flask or chamber, in which it can be cooled down and condensed into water. The chamber is necessary to contain the steam while it is being transmuted into a lower and denser form, so that it may be available for ordinary physical use.

Or again, if we wish to utilize the power of the steam, we must collect it in some sort of container, so that we can set up a pressure, so that we can bring it under control, and send out its jets in the desired direction. Exactly the same thing is true of this much lighter force, but as it acts in matter far finer than any that we know, no physical vessel could possibly retain it; to hold it, the vessel must itself be made of the matter of these higher planes, which can be manipulated only by thought. It is precisely such an utensil which is constructed for us on a gigantic scale by the Angel of the Lord whose help we invoke.

This is a mechanical age, and our thoughts are accustomed to run along mechanical lines. A man can learn to drive a motor-car without knowing much about its interior economy; we can turn on the electric light without knowing what electricity is; but nevertheless the man who understands the machinery which he is using is unquestionably more efficient and serviceable. The whole ceremony of the Holy Eucharist may from this point of view be regarded as the construction and utilization of a magnificent machine for the liberation of force, and its direction for the helping of the world; and to comprehend something of what this machine is, how it is built and how it is intended to work, will undoubtedly enable us to co-operate more intelligently in the scheme. Be it understood, then, that the Angel of the Eucharist erects for us what is called a thought-form of subtle matter, inside which the divine force can be stored, and can accumulate until it can be directed and used, just a steam accumulates in a boiler, or in the dome of a locomotive.

The chief object of the sacrifice of the Holy Eucharist is to offer an opportunity for an especial down-pouring of divine force from the very highest levels, and to provide such a vehicle for that force as may enable those Angel-helpers to use it for certain definite purposes in our physical world, as will be explained later. Water spilt upon the ground is of little use except to irrigate that ground; if we want it for other uses we must provide a vessel to contain it. Also, a form in which the force can be collected is needed in order that the Angel may see what the total amount is, and calculate how much he can afford to apportion to each of the purposes to which it is to be devoted.

The objects which we set before us in preparing this revised form of the Liturgy were to retain the general outline of the form which it makes, and the working of the old magic—the effects of the various acts at different stages, the descent and return of the Angel of the Presence, and so on—but to remove from it all the grey of fear and the brown of selfishness, and to some extent to change the style of its architecture from classical to Gothic. Upon investigation we discovered that the Great Ones inspired the wandering bands of Freemasons (who built most of the great cathedrals of Europe) with the idea of a Gothic style, precisely as a physical-plane attempt to guide them towards the more jubilant and aspirational thought-form which it was wished that their religious Services should erect; but they were singularly slow in seeing the analogy.

The general attitude of the Christians at that time was obsequious and shrinking; many of them regarded God as a being who had to be propitiated, and in their prayers they begged Him to hear them for a moment before destroying them, to have mercy upon them, and generally they acted and spoke as though He were an ill-conditioned tyrant instead of a loving Father. So their devotional thought made on the whole a flat-roofed building. We saw that its present surface, as constructed by the Roman ritual, is often a dead level of nervousness and anxiety, full of ugly hollows and pits of depression caused by the exaggerated confessions of vileness and abject appeals for mercy, dishonouring alike to God and to the men whom He has made in His image. Every such hollow should be replaced by a pinnacle of fervid devotion, up-drawn by utter confidence in the love of God, so that the thought-form should show a forest of gleaming spires, like Milan Cathedral, instead of the flat or sagging roof which it often bears at present, in order that by sympathetic influence its soaring lines might guide men's thoughts upward, and wean them away from servile fear to trust, adoration and love.

We saw how evil had been the effect upon the thought-form of the revengeful, comminatory or cringing passages from the Hebrew psalms, and it was especially impressed upon us that now words should be put into the mouth of the Priest or the congregation which they could not really mean.

We have tried to carry out these ideas to the best of our ability, and our labour has been rewarded by greater symmetry in the edifice erected, and distinctly increased adaptability to its purpose. It cannot be too strongly emphasized that the intelligent co-operation of the congregation with the Priest is a most valuable factor in this great work, for a grand outpouring of force and a magnificent and effective collective thought-form can be made by a gathering of men who join heartily in a Service. There is generally considerable difficulty in obtaining this result, because the members of the average congregation are entirely untrained in concentration, and consequently the collective thought-form is usually a broken and chaotic mass, instead of a splendid and organized whole.

Devotion, too, whether individual or collective, varies much in quality. The devotion of the primitive savage, for example, is usually greatly mingled with fear, and the chief idea in his mind in connection with it is to appease a deity who might otherwise prove vindictive. But little better than this is much of the devotion of men who consider themselves civilized and Christian, for it is a kind of unholy bargain—the offering to the Deity of a certain amount of devotion if He on His side will extend a certain amount of protection or assistance.

Such devotion, being entirely selfish and grasping in its nature, produces results only in the lower types of astral matter; and exceedingly unpleasant-looking results they are in many cases. The thought-forms which they create are often shaped like grappling hooks, and their forces move always in closed curves, reacting only upon the man who sends them forth, and bringing back to him whatever small result they may be able to achieve. The true, pure, unselfish devotion is an out-rush of feeling which never returns to the man who gave it forth, but constitutes itself in very truth a cosmic force producing widespread results in higher worlds.

Though the force itself never returns, the man who originates it becomes the centre of a downpour of divine energy which comes in response, and so in his act of devotion he has truly blessed himself, even though at the same time he has also blessed many others as well, and in addition to that, if his thought runs along Christian lines, he has had the honour of contributing to the special reservoir which the Christ sets apart for the work of His Church. Anyone who possessed the book Thought-Forms may see in it an attempt to represent the splendid blue spire made by devotion of this type as it rushes upwards, and he will readily understand how it opens a way for a definite outpouring of the divine force.

God is pouring forth His wonderful vital energy on every level, in every world, and naturally the outpouring belonging to a higher world is stronger and fuller and less restricted than that upon the world below. Normally, each wave of this great force acts in its own world alone, and cannot (or at least does not) move transversely from one world or plane to another; but it is precisely by means of unselfish thought and feeling, whether it be of devotion or of affection, that a temporary channel is provided through which the force normally belonging to a higher world may descend to a lower, and may produce there results which, without it, could never have come to pass.

Every man who is truly unselfish frequently makes himself such a channel, though of course on a comparatively small scale; but the mighty act of devotion of a whole vast congregation, when it is really united, and utterly without thought of self, produces the same result on an enormously greater scale. Sometimes, though rarely, this hidden side of religious Services may be seen in full activity, and no one who has even once had the privilege of seeing such a splendid manifestation as this can for a moment doubt that the hidden side of a Church Service is of an importance infinitely greater than anything purely physical.

Such an one would see the dazzling blue spire or dome of the highest type of astral matter rushing upwards into the sky, for above the image of it in stone which sometimes crowns the physical edifice in which the worshippers are gathered; he would see the blinding glory which pours down through it and spreads out like a great flood of living light over all the surrounding region. Naturally, the diameter and height of the spire of devotion determine the opening made for the descent of the higher life, while the force which expresses itself in the rate at which the devotional energy rushes upwards has its relation to the rate at which the corresponding down-pouring can take place. The sight is indeed wonderful, and he who sees it can never doubt again that the unseen influences are more than the seen, nor can he fail to realize that the world which goes on its way heedless of the devotional man, or perhaps even scornful of him, owes to him all the time far more than it knows.

No other Service has an effect at all comparable to that of the celebration of the Eucharist, though great musical forms may of course appear at any Service where music is used. In all the other Services (except indeed the Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament) the thought-forms developed and the general good which is done depend to a still greater extent upon the devotion of the people. When it happens that a number of students of this inner aspect of Christianity belong to such an assembly, they can be of great use to their fellow-worshippers by consciously gathering together the scattered streams of devotion and welding them into one harmonious and mighty current.

In our liturgy, as in that of the Church of Rome, and Angel is invoked to superintend this welding and to direct the construction of the edifice. For example, in the rare case above described, he would seize upon that splendid outburst of devotion, and instead of allowing it to flash upward in that glorious blue spire, he would deftly fashion it into a structure which would presently become the vehicle for a down-pouring perhaps ten times or even a hundred times greater than the response which it would have earned in its original form. The Angel can and will supply what is wanting, and rectify our shortcomings, but it is obviously desirable that we should facilitate his work as far as possible.

The consideration of the co-operation of the congregation should outweigh all others in determining the selection of the music used at the various Services. Elaborate music indeed produces far-reaching results on higher levels, and has a wonderful effect in stirring and uplifting those who fully understand and appreciate its beauties; but at this stage of the evolution of humanity those must always be the few rather than the many; and even those few should realize that it is not principally for their personal consolation and upliftment that they come to church, but to work in God's Service for the helping of their fellow-men. They should learn to forget themselves and their individual wishes, to sink the personality and work as part of a whole, as a boy does when he joins a cricket eleven, a football fifteen, or a crew of a racing boat. He must act not for his own honour and glory, but for the good of the club; he may be called upon absolutely to set aside his own wishes and to sacrifice opportunities of brilliant display or enjoyment. So must we learn to efface the lower self, and to work as a congregation in real brotherhood and co-operation.

There can be no question as to the comparative effectiveness of the two methods. A simple musical Service in which a hundred people join heartily and with intention is of far greater use to the world than a display of the most magnificent music to which thousands are listening, even though they listen with delight and profit to themselves. Careful and repeated investigation into the result in the inner worlds has made it abundantly clear that though occasional sacred concerts have an important place in individual evolution, the Service of the church should be so arranged that all can co-operate heartily and intelligently in the work which it is intended to do.

A simple form of musical Service should be adopted, and its principal features should remain unchanged, so that every one may become thoroughly familiar with them. The congregation should be well instructed as to the meaning and effect of the different parts of the ceremony, and the intention which they are to hold in mind at each part. In this way even a small body of people may do efficient and useful work, and become a real centre of blessing to a large district; and they themselves may be helped to an almost incalculable extent if they can be induced to join heartily in stirring and well-chosen hymns and chants.

Not all simple music is equally suitable. That will obviously give least trouble to the Angel which of itself produces a form approximating to that which he desires. It must, of course, vary in expression with the words, yet it must always be joyous and uplifting. Lugubrious, droning, indeterminate passages should be avoided at all costs. None of the existing settings exactly fit our words, but some can be adapted without much difficulty. No doubt Liberal Catholic composers will presently arise who will produce precisely what is wanted; meantime a tentative Service[1] has been published which, although far from perfect musically, has been used for several years with exceedingly good practical results.

The earnest Priest must endeavour to secure for his church the performance of such a musical Service as will economically but efficiently furnish a sufficient amount of the best available material for the use of the Angel of the Eucharist; but he must be constantly on his guard against the well-intentioned but selfish efforts of his choir to introduce ambitious music in which the congregation cannot join. I do not mean that there is any objection to the insertion (on a Festival, for example) of a shorter and appropriate anthem, to be sung by the choir alone; but the music of the Liturgy itself should always be so arranged that the people can take their full part in it. If an anthem be used, great care should be exercised in its selection, as so many contain words which are opposed to the whole spirit of our Service—references to the alleged wrath of God, appeals for mercy, and expressions of fear or sickening servility. If such an addition be made, the best place for it seems to be after the gospel, either before or in place of the sermon.

The singers of our Church should realize that they have a singularly fine opportunity of working in the Service of God for the helping of their less talented brethren; and they must devote themselves to that work, seeking neither vainglorious display of their powers, nor a titillation of the ears and an upliftment of the heart for themselves, but acting with absolute unselfishness, and thereby following in the footsteps of their Master the Christ. The Priest will do well to encourage the study of music among his congregation, so that he may be degrees strengthen that part of his Service; he may give as many educative concerts of more elaborate music as he chooses, but he must never lose the priceless co-operation of his flock in the actual Services of his church.

It will be understood that a church which has been consecrated, and is in constant use for the various Divine Services, is already a haven of refuge from the ceaseless whirl of ordinary thought outside, and that its atmosphere is highly charged with devotion. Nevertheless the people who come into it day by day bring with them a certain proportion of their private worries and troubles; their minds are full of all sorts of thoughts and ideas connected with the outer world—not at all necessarily bad thoughts, but thoughts which are not especially religious in their nature. Some may even be weighed down by the consciousness of failure, or of actual wrong-doing. It is therefore desirable to make a special effort to purify the church before beginning the Service.

For this reason it is always useful to commence with a procession. The clergy and choir must obviously enter in an orderly way and take their places, and when it is possible, it is well to extend that necessary procession of entrance into a perambulation of the church, because in that way the preliminary purification is greatly assisted. and the congregation is helped to self-recollectedness, steadiness of thought, and concentration upon the work in hand.

One of the most valuable factors in this effort is the incense; it has already been blessed by the Priest or the Bishop, and consequently its smoke carries with it purifying and uplifting influences wherever its fragrance penetrates. If a Bishop be present, he pours his blessing upon the people (using the sign of the cross) as the procession passes among them; and although that duty is not laid upon the Priest, he will nevertheless be able greatly to help his people if, as he walks in the procession, he holds in mind a strong sense of peace, and an earnest wish that his congregation may share that feeling with him.

The effect of a processional hymn upon the people is good in others ways, too, for it tends to bring all into harmonious vibration and to turn their thoughts into similar channels. It is somewhat equivalent to the tuning of the strings of a violin, as the singing has a decided effect in keying up their emotions and thoughts. Of course it is impossible to bring a mixed congregation absolutely into unison so far as their thoughts and feelings are concerned, but they should at least be brought into tune with one another, so that they blend into a harmonious whole, even as do the varied instruments of a large orchestra.

The strong swinging vibrations of the hymn suppress such thought-undulations as do not agree with them, and the passing of the choir so closely among the people stimulates the latter to take a heartier and more vigorous part in the Service, and so in this way congregational singing is an excellent preparation for the work which is to follow. The hymn builds in higher matter a series of rectangular forms drawn with mathematical precision, following one another in definite order like the links of some mighty chain; and this steady repetition acts like the repeated blows of a hammer on the head of a nail, and drives home the lesson which it is intended to inculcate. Again, the splendid appearance of a well-organized procession, the colour and lights, the rich banners and gorgeous vestments, all combine to fire the imagination, to raise the people’s thoughts above the prosaic level of ordinary life, and to help their devotion and enthusiasm.

Versicles

The Priest then sings the versicle; "O Lord, open Thou our lips," and the choir responds: "And our mouth shall shew forth Thy praise." This versicle has been used from an early period in Church history at the beginning of one of the morning Services, though not in the Mass. Its underlying idea is that it is only by the help of the divine power in ourselves that we can hope to praise or worship at all worthily. When we speak of the help of the Lord we should try to understand that we can draw upon the divine power without—upon what is commonly called the Power of God—only because we ourselves are God also, because we are fundamentally part of Him.

The intention of this versicle is that the Divine within man may aroused to come into harmony with the Divine without, while the response tells us that after our lips are unsealed, the first use we should make of speech is to offer praise unto the Lord. It is important to notice that not prayer for benefits, but praise, is the first thing we should offer. The celebrant then sings: "Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord?" meaning by this: Who can usefully and suitably ascent the steps leading to the Altar? Immediately the answer comes: "Even he that hath clean hands and a pure heart." Now, with this conviction firmly implanted within himself, the celebrant turns to the people and for the first time in the Service gives the Minor Benediction.

Dominus Vobiscum

Anyone who watches attentively the Roman Service of the Mass can hardly fail to notice the frequency with which the celebrant turns round to the congregation and utters the words:
Dominus vobiscum ("The Lord be with you.")

The people reply:
Et com spiritu tuo ("And with thy spirit,")
a sentence which seems to need revision, since the Spirit is the sole possessor, and can never by any possibility be the thing possessed. A more accurate expression would be : "And with thee as a spirit," The early Church, however, did not speak with such careful precision, but adopted rather the phrasing of the Hebrew Psalmist, who not infrequently adjures his soul to bless the Lord, apparently identifying himself with his body.

St. Paul was better instructed, for he writes of body, soul and spirit as the threefold division of man, though even he still puts them as possessions of the man.

A more scientific statement is that the Spirit (sometimes called the Monad) is the divine Spark in each of us which is the cause of all the rest, and consequently the true man; that this Spirit puts down into levels lower than his own a partial manifestation of himself which we call the soul or the ego; that this soul unfolds its latent divine qualities by many successive lives in still lower world, in the course of which it clothes itself in vehicles suitable to that world, to which we give the name of body. So at any given moment of physical life man, the Spirit possesses a soul and body—indeed, several bodies, for St. Paul furthers explains: "There is a natural body and there is a spiritual body." These words are not well translated; but the context makes it clear that by the "natural body" he means this garment of flesh with which we are all well acquainted, and that by the term "spiritual body"—divided by later investigators into the astral and the mental vehicles.

However much the idea may have been obscured in the course of the ages, it is certain that the Service of the Holy Eucharist is intended to be a coherent ceremony, moving steadily onward to a climax, and skillfully calculated to produce certain magnificent effects. Regarding the ritual scientifically from that point of view, one might perhaps wonder a little at the frequent repetition of a remark which, though beautiful in itself, seems at first sight to have no obvious connection with the splendid purpose of the great spiritual act of which it forms a part.

The phrase occurs no less than nine (in the shorter form, three) times in the course of the Liturgy, with a slight but important addition in one case—the salutation of peace—to which I shall refer when we come to it. The Service as a whole centres round the tremendous outpouring of power which comes at the Consecration. All that is said and done before that moment is intended in various ways to lead up to it. and all that happens afterwards is concerned with the conservation of distribution of the power. the idea of preparing the Priest to perform the great act is undoubtedly present, but also, and more prominently that of preparing the congregation to receive it and to profit by it. This preparation of the people is achieved largely by drawing them more and more closely into magnetic harmony with the Priest—by bringing them mentally and emotionally into sympathy with him in the mighty work which he is doing. To assist in the steady augmentation of power all the time, and to promote the ever-increasing harmony of vibration between Priest and people, are the objects of this constantly repeated Minor Benediction.

To one possessing clairvoyant vision its value is clearly apparent, for when the celebrant turns to the people and sings or speaks the prescribed words, a powerful current of force rushes down over the congregation and then a moment later surges back towards the Altar, greatly increased in volume, because it sweeps up and bears with it all the little jets of force which individual worshippers have generated, which would otherwise float upward and be dissipated. It all converges upon the Priest with the words: "And with thy spirit": and the rush is sometimes so strong that, if he be at all sensitive, he is almost staggered by it, but his duty is to receive it into himself and hold it for the use of the Angel whom he is about to invoke.

This interaction is most effective in welding celebrant, assistants and congregation into one harmonious whole—a veritable living instrument to be used in the magic of the Eucharist. These words are repeated throughout the Service whenever the Priest has performed some act or uttered some prayer which will exalt his emotions or fill him with some particular force, the idea being that he is able through the Minor Benediction to share this exaltation or force with the people, and thereby lift them nearer to God. In this case it is the idea and realization of purity and concentration which is to be shared: the comprehension of the necessity of those virtues, and the determination to attain them.

Note The celebrant begins by blowing the asperges bubble, and the psalm which is meanwhile being sung, and the versicles following it, establish a rapport between him and the congregation. This condition is used to enable the celebrant, at the Minor Benediction which immediately follows, to throw out a net over his people, which he can hold them as a driver holds his horses with the reins. This net is of very great use in the Service, and it is along its lines of communication that the celebrant sends out the power at every subsequent repetition of this sentence—"The Lord be with you""—which is so effective in preserving the harmony between himself and his congregation, and, at the same time in keeping the pressures of force, at the Altar and in the body of the church, more or less equalized. This net is constantly being revivified, and is made to glow strongly by each repetition of the Dominus Vobiscum, until the Offertorium, when it is no longer needed. When a Bishop says Mass, he seems to include the people on a higher level with his net than a Priest does. And when a Bishop is present at a Priest's Mass, he is not altogether included—as it were, not quite submerged—by this outpouring. From this, his more lofty vantage-ground, he is able to do much to help. In the shorter form of the asperges, the sentence "Brethren, let us now lay the foundation of our temple" makes this net.

The Angel Of The Eucharist

The Priest now turns to another part of the reparation and says:

Collect

The phrase "Let us pray" is a signal given by the celebrant to the people when he is about to say a prayer, and it is therefore time for them to kneel. Such a sign was even more necessary in the primitive Church when the people were not supplied with copies of the liturgy (nor, in most cases, able to read them if thy had had them), and were therefore obliged to rely entirely upon the Priest for directions as to the position which they should assume. Indeed for a considerable time there was no written liturgy, and each celebrant filled in extemporaneously the outline of the ceremony as given by the Christ.

That Christ did give such an outline is certain from clairvoyant investigation. The account of the institution of this Sacrament given in the various gospels is probably substantially accurate, though we must remember that the writers were compiling a wonderful and beautiful mystery-drama, in which they were far more concerned to convey successfully the mighty truths which lay behind their symbolism than to observe exactly the unities of the story-form in which they had decided to cast their narrative. But the words spoken at that first Eucharist on the evening of Maundy Thursday (or as seems more probable, immediately after midnight, and so very early on Good Friday morning¹) were merely the formal institution of the great ceremony.

The Jews began their day at sunset, so in either case it would already be Friday according to their reckoning.

Detailed information as to its method and intention were given by the Lord after His resurrection among the many things "pertaining to the Kingdom of God" which He then taught to His disciples. But while it is certain that He gave them clear directions as to the main points of the eucharistic Service, and explained what effect each was meant to produce, it is also clear that He left this framework of the ceremony to be filled in by His apostles as they found it convenient under the constantly varying conditions of their early evangelistic work. The follows of each apostle would naturally try to remember and to reproduce his improvizations; and so a number of rituals would grow up, all built upon the same skeleton, but clothing it differently. It was only as centuries rolled on that the Church evolved by experience and by compilation the various liturgies which we now possess; though again we must not forget that He Himself stood ever behind her efforts, always ready to inspire and direct those of her leaders who laid themselves open to spiritual influence.

Having effected a preliminary purification, and so provided a field (inside the huge bubble blown by the Priest's effort) in which an Angel will feel it possible to work, the celebrant now invokes the aid of one of these beneficent helpers. There are many orders and races of these radiant non-human spirits, and most of them have at the present stage of human evolution but little connection with mankind. Certain types, however, are ever ready to take part in religious ceremonies, not only for the pleasure of doing a good action, but because such work offers them the best possible opportunity for progress.

Four times in the course of the eucharistic Service does the Priest call upon the holy Angels for their help, and we may be well assured that he never calls in vain, for a link with these celestial hosts is one of the advantages which are conferred upon him at his Ordination. On this occasion he invokes what is commonly called the Angel of the Eucharist, whose special work in connection with it is to assist in the building of the edifice of which I have already spoken. He determines the size of the form which can be erected upon any given occasion, taking into account the number of people present, the intensity of their devotion, the amount of their knowledge, their willingness to cooperate, and so on. A large congregation working intelligently can give much more material for the building of the form than a small congregation; again, far more material is available at a High Celebration than at a Low one.

It lies within the work of the Angel to see that our material is wisely used in the building of the edifice. If too large a pavement were built at the singing of the canticle, the eucharistic edifice, when complete might be so attenuated as scarcely to hold together. The form is moulded and directed by this Angel, although its outline can to a certain extent be changed by the will of the celebrant, if he knows of the existence of the form and the purpose for which it is being built. The first act of the Angel upon his arrival is to expand the bubble formed by the will of the Priest at the asperges. (Plate 4.) He pushes it beyond the Altar until it has cleared a space as far to the east of the Altar as the original had cleared to the west. To make this expansion possible without the bubble becoming too tenuous, the Priest, at the time when he asperses the Altar, should mentally picture the film of the bubble as being much thicker in the neighbourhood of the Altar and sanctuary than elsewhere.

 

It will be seen that the Roman form of the asperges prayer makes no direct reference to the Angel's work in the erection of the edifice, though it is by means of that construction that he guards, protects and defends the congregation to a large extent from the intrusion of evil or wandering thoughts, even while by his powerful yet most restful magnetism he truly visits and nourishes those who are willing to receive his influence. I do not mean that if a man allows his mind to be filled with private worries the Angel will specially interfere to drive them out; but he does exclude from his building the vast swarms of vague thought-forms which in ordinary life are constantly pressing upon us and drifting through our minds whenever for a moment we leave them blank. His very presence is a blessing, for a calming and uplifting radiance is ever streaming forth from him; so his visit clearly offers a valuable opportunity to those who are prepared to take advantage of it. In the shorter Service we compress the entire action of the asperges into one collect. Making the sign of the cross over himself with the aspergill, the Priest says:

May the Lord purify me that I may worthily perform his service.

He asperses the Altar and chancel.

In the strength of the Lord do I repel all evil from this His holy altar and sanctuary,

He asperses the people.

and from this House, wherein we worship Him;

He faces the Altar.

and I pray our heavenly Father that He will send His holy Angel to build for us a spiritual Temple through which His strength and blessing may be poured forth upon His people. Through Christ our Lord.

R.   Amen.

This is in every way as effective as the longer form, but it requires alert and concentrated thought on the part of the Priest. He will probably find it advisable to recite the collect somewhat slowly, throwing the whole strength of his will into each clause. The invocation which immediately follows the asperges in the longer form is in the shorter made to precede it, thus making the purification definitely part of the eucharistic Service instead of a preparation for it.

It has been our endeavour in the shortened form to suit the wording more exactly to the effect which is being produced, so that it may be easier for the congregation to follow the inner side of the Service. All the manual actions of the Priest are precisely the same; there is no perceptible difference between the edifices erected by the two forms, or in the amount of force outpoured. When the Epistle and gospel are not read, we lose the amount of useful material generated by the Gradual; and such members of the congregation as need a good deal of steady pressure to work up their enthusiasm have time to contribute somewhat more during the longer prayers. But in practice this slight lack is generally compensated by increased alertness and by the clearer comprehension of what is being done. In the shorter form the important actions of the ritual succeed one another more rapidly because all that is not actually necessary to the inner work has been eliminated. Many beautiful passages have to be omitted; but nevertheless the abbreviated form will be found convenient on many occasions when it would be impossible to perform the full ceremony.

Note The celebrant now calls the Angel of the Eucharist, who is to build our form for us. One does not seen to see him approaching from afar off, but he is suddenly appears in such a manner as to suggest that there is a thick veil of mist at the back of the altar, and that, when called, he just steps forward through this and is with us. I do not know what is the cause of this effect; it may be due to the speed with which he travels, so that the moment at which he is seen in the distance is so nearly simultaneous with his arrival in the church that it seems to us to be actually so, and thus, by the time we have first seen him he has already arrived. A more likely explanation is that he comes to us on some high plane—possibly where space does not exist—and then materialized lower bodies for himself.

We noticed that in a few cases which we examined, where the celebrant was himself an evolved person—an Initiate of the Great White Lodge—the colours of the Angel corresponded with certain colours in the upper part of the officiant's aura. this suggests that, in cases where the Priest is sufficiently evolved for his character to have a definite effect on things, other considerations being equal, the Angel who comes to work with him is likely to be of the same type as himself. Of course, there are churches which have definite Angels attached to them who habitually patronize them but similarly there seem to be celebrants who have their own Angels, who have these colour similarities.

With regard to the position of the Angel during the various parts of the Service, I give the results of a number of observations in one particular church.

He seems to move about a good deal within a limited area round the Altar, but is mostly near the officiating Priest. When he first shows himself, he is in front of the celebrant, but rather to the Epistle side—among the candles on that side of the Altar. This is the more masculine side of the church, as the rays represented by the candles, the jewels and crosses on this side—the South—are more positive than those to the North. In this connection it is tempting to speculate as to possible reasons for this being found in the fact that certain great earth currents are received at the North Pole and given off at the South Pole. Be that as it may, the fact remains that the South of the church is more masculine, and as the ecclesiastical power is meant to flow through male channels, it is probably easier for the Angel to work on this side.

He remains here, almost in the centre, during the Canticle and Introit; except that during the latter, he stands a little further to the side of the Altar so as to handle the swirls of power going from the celebrant, deacon and subdeacon, up to the central line (made by the tabernacle, cross and picture) and back again. During the Kyrie, he is just over the head of the officiant; for the Gloria in Excelsis, he floats up somewhat higher and moves towards the people, so that he is over the sanctuary gates, gathering from and drawing strongly on the people for his building material.

During the Collects he is mostly in his original place, in line with the three officiants, and is there receiving the power sent up through this line. While the Epistle is being read, the Angel is near the centre of the Altar, so that, as well as the more mental power which he is pouring down through the celebrant and deacon into the subdeacon, he may be in a convenient position to draw from the candles on the North and also pour down emotionally uplifting power which stimulates and raises the level of the subdeacon's emotions, and consequently, of his thought as well. As the power flows out through him on to the people, it has the same effect on them. Except for a few moments when he comes out just to the left of the subdeacon—who is standing in the centre line of the Altar on the lowest step—and when he goes behind the Altar for a moment in connection with making the pillars and ornaments during the Gradual, the Angel keeps his central position till the end of the Gospel. He seems to be busy at this part of the Service in equilibrating and transmuting emotional and thought power, of which there is a swirl going round and round the church. The row of candles acts as a useful sieve for this purpose, and strains of much dirt, while greatly intensifying (and at the same time being intensified by ) the power from the people. This activity reacts on and further stimulates the people, and so the swirl is worked up.

During most of the Creed, the Angel is over the head of the celebrant, but towards the end, he floats high up above the Altar cross. After this, he is more at his leisure, and is receiving the reward for his work. Still, he continues to be very useful as a source of power, and busies himself in beautifying things. Although it is the directing Angel who is in charge when the whole edifice is enlarged at the Tersanctus, the building Angel is still very helpful even in this act, as he contributes so much power himself, which helps in swelling out the dome.

 

The Holy Eucharist—Preparation

Invocation

 

 

Now that the actual Service is about to begin the cope is removed from the shoulders of the celebrant and he is endued with the chasuble, the sacrificial vestment which has, from the earliest days of the Church, been reserved for the celebration of the Holy Eucharist. The meaning and use of this garment will be described in part III, "The Instruments of the Sacraments."

The Eucharist begins, as do all Services of the Church, with a Word and Sign of Power. Fully to understand the use and force of such words and signs we must study an aspect of nature which is almost wholly forgotten in modern days. We must learn that we live not in an empty and unresponsive material world, but in the midst of a vast ocean of teeming life—that we are always surrounded by a great clout of witnesses, a mighty host of beings unseen by our physical eyes. This huge army includes superhuman beings (angels of all degrees and types), the innumerable hosts of the dead (who are of course still at the human level) and incalculable millions of sub-human entities—nature-spirits, ensouled thought-forms and the like.

All these are continually influencing us, some for good and some for ill, even as we in turn are continually influencing them. Most people are entirely unconscious or derisively incredulous of all this, and so they stumble on through life unhelped; though perhaps it is also true that the barrier of their blind unbelief to some extent protects them from possible dangers. But assuredly God intends that His whole creation shall work together in His service, and that we shall avail ourselves of the many aids which He has put ready to our hands as soon as we are wise enough to understand them. In this, as in all other directions, knowledge is power, and he who will intelligently use the forces of nature may gain great advantage thereby.

Those who have studied comparative religion are aware of the vast importance attached to names; they know that according to all ancient belief the name of a thing has a direct connection with it and can invoke it anywhere. It will be remembered that in the Egyptian Book of the Dead the candidate journeying through the Hall of Amenti is met by all kinds of entities, some of them terrible in character, who bar his way and demand to be identified. If properly instructed he promptly recognizes them and says to each: "I know thee; so-and-so is thy name." Whereupon the obstructing dragon instantly subsides, and the candidate passes triumphantly on his way.

In this ancient system it is clear that to know the name of anything implied knowledge of its inmost nature, its powers and qualities. To the men of old, therefore, to command in the Name or by the Name of any manifestation of God was to draw upon the power of that manifestation. There is a good deal of truth in this idea, especially when the invocation is uttered by one who, having been linked with the source of the power, has received authority to use it. So to announce that we begin our Service in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost is, in the case of the Priest, to call upon and bring into activity the special link made at his ordination, and in response there is a tremendous down-rush of force.

When a Bishop is present, these words of power are always spoken by him because of the additional layer of power which he is able to invoke. When this invocation is used by a layman, it calls upon the equivalent or representative of the Holy Trinity within himself—the Spirit, intuition and intelligence. As in the solar system everything begins and ends with the Trinity, so in the symbolism of the Eucharist we commence with an invocation addressed to the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, and end with a benediction in the Name of the same Three Aspects of the Deity.

The sign of power which accompanies this invocation, the sign of the holy cross, has various aspects as a symbol. The Greek cross with equal arms signifies the Logos in activity—the arm of the Lord out-stretched to help or to bless. The Latin cross with the with the longer stem typifies the Second Aspect of the Logos, the Second Person of the blessed Trinity, God the Son descended into matter. In all benedictions and exorcisms it is used to impress the will of the Priest upon the person or object with which he is dealing. It is a sign through which power flows, sometimes from the Priest to another; sometimes from on high into the Priest himself, as at certain points of the Service. When a man makes it over himself it is designed to promote self-recollectedness; to remind him of the Name which it symbolizes, and to help him to realize that where that Name is invoked we trust no evil shall ensue.

It is a kind of miniature creed expressed in action instead of in words, for as we touch first the forehead and then the solar plexus it reminds us how "for us men and for our salvation" Christ came down from the Father, who is Head over all, to this earth, to the physical plane, the lower part of His creation; while as we touch first the left shoulder and then the right, we remember that He passed from earth into the lower astral world, call hell, and typified as on the left hand of God (though even so it is higher than the earth) and proceeded thence to sit in glory for ever on the right hand of the Father.

A man whose thoughts and feelings are always on the highest possible level may not need a reminder of this sort; but most of us are not yet perfect, and therefore it is not wise to reject anything that can give us assistance. Most of us are well-intentioned but forgetful, and anything that helps us to recollect the ideal, and aids in driving away unwholesome thoughts and influences, is beneficial. We are not yet saints; we are still liable to be affected by waves of irritation or selfishness or by undesirable thoughts. The sign of the cross made over ourselves will draw round us unseen influences which will tend to drive away all that is unpleasant and at the same time make it easier to retain what is good.

To understand this power of the sign of the cross we must realize that, as I have said, we are living in the midst of a vast host of other beings. Among these, the sub-human creatures (or nature-spirits, as they are sometimes called) are peculiarly susceptible to the influence of the signs of power, of which the cross is one. Wherever that sign is made it at once attracts the attention of all such creatures in the neighbourhood, and they immediately gather round the person making the sign in the expectation that he will send out thoughts and vibrations of the type that they enjoy.

We must not confuse these nature-spirits with the Angels. If a great Angel who happened to be passing saw the sign of the cross and the good thoughts which accompanied it, he would certainly cast upon the man who made it a radiant smile which would carry a helpful influence, but he would not be likely to turn aside from his work. Nature-spirits evolve largely by means of the vibrations in which they bathe themselves, and therefore the instinct implanted in them leads them to be always watching for those which are useful to them. There are some at the stage of evolution which needs the coarser types of vibrations, which for us (but not for them) express evil or passionate thoughts or feelings.

Such creatures surge round us when we show irritability or sensuality, and their pressure encourages and strengthens whatever undesirable tendency may be manifesting itself—not in the least because these creatures are in themselves evil or wish us harm, for they are but following their instinct and gathering round a source of emanations which are pleasant to them, as flies gather round a honey-pot or men round a fire in cold weather. Others are at a stage which needs the higher vibrations which with us express good thoughts and feelings, and the sign of the cross attracts this type, just as it drives away the other. It is not so much that the latter fear it, as is generally supposed (you know how the hymn puts it: "At the sign of triumph Satan's host doth flee") the truth is rather that its radiance is distasteful to them, and they at once recognize that where that sign is made there is nothing for them; so they promptly depart in search of more hopeful pastures.

We shall be more likely to understand how these forces act if we can completely divest ourselves of childish superstitions about the devil and wicked angels and look at the whole matter from a commonsense and scientific point of view. Ethical ideas of good and evil have nothing to do with the question. The kingdom of the nature-spirits contains as much variety as the animal kingdom. Some nature-spirits, like some animals, are useful to us, while others members of both kingdoms are noxious to us, and just as we discourage, drive away or destroy rats, snakes, scorpions and parasitic vermin, so should we discourage, or drive away undesirable astral or etheric entities.

So many people are not sensible about these matters; either they are stupidly superstitious, or equally stupidly incredulous, because they cannot see the world of subtler matter which surrounds them. They cannot see the microbes of disease; yet these unseen creatures frequently influence their lives to a serious extent, and so also may the unseen astral creatures. Nature-spirits, whether helpful or harmful, respond eagerly to the oscillations which appeal to them; they reproduce them in themselves and intensify them, and so in their turn react upon us, and tend to perpetuate the conditions in us which attract them. For this reason, although ignorant people sometimes regard it as a mere superstition, the making of the sign of the cross is of definite practical value.

Note The Invocation to the Trinity, accompanied by the sign of power, causes the people to open themselves at the highest point at which they are conscious. This is the place into which power is poured when a person is to be used as a channel, and we may therefore call it "the point of entry". The three aspects of consciousness-will, wisdom and activity, at this point look like three glowing lights in the form of a triangle. The lights are of three colours—white, blue and red. The white represents will, the Power of the Father; the blue, wisdom, the Power of the Son; and the red represents activity, the Power of Holy Spirit. These glow strongly as the Three Persons of the Trinity are mentioned, and power is poured through these three principles down into the personalities of the clergy and the members of the congregation. This inflow of power of the same sort through all present tends to unify and it makes a fine show of bright light throughout the church.

Canticle

This invocation is immediately followed by the opening canticle, throughout which the attitude the people are supposed to adopt is clearly indicated; it speaks everywhere of gladness, of rejoicing and thankfulness. In the prayer: "O send out Thy light and Thy truth, that they may lead me, and bring me to Thy holy hill and to Thy dwelling," is expressed the thought that we can acceptably approach the Altar of God only if we do so in full light of truth, shrinking from none of the facts that truth may bring, and filled with such high courage and resolve that we are utterly free from fear, from cowardice, from distrust. We can never appreciate the full meaning of the Eucharist and share largely in its benefits if we are filled with fear of God who loves us.

Then we try to realize the glory and holiness of God, and that from Him comes strength and calm. So we say: "The Lord shall give strength unto His people; the Lord shall give His people the blessing of peace." The whole of the canticle is intended to lay the foundation of what is to be done later, by bringing the people into the attitude of joy, gladness, trust and peace which is necessary if they are usefully to take part in the Service; and, as usual, the antiphon gives us the keynote—the thought which we are to hold before us as we sing. The importance of adopting this correct frame of mind at the beginning of the Service cannot be exaggerated. It is probable that in the early Church the preparatory canticle was sung in procession as the clergy and choir entered the sacred building.

The canticle recited here by the celebrant and his ministers in the Roman Church contains verses which seem inappropriate and useless, so we substituted for them others which better carry out the idea. We have followed this plan in all our Service, selecting for our psalms only verses which bear some intelligible meaning, and avoiding all those which complain, grovel or curse.

While the words which we sing bear their part in the preparation of our minds, the Angel of the Eucharist is working busily, yet with graceful ease, utilizing both the forms made by the music of the canticle, and the outrush caused by our feelings of love and devotion as we sing it. With this material he lays the floor or foundation of his edifice, following first the lower part of the tenuous bubble blown by the asperges, and then turning to the east and extending his floor away behind the Altar, till he has produced a pavement double the size of that upon which the congregation stand. (See Plate 5.) His work is conditioned by the number of the people present, and the amount and type of vivified matter with which their enthusiasm supplies him.

 

If the church be full, he usually follows its ground-plan as an outline for his pavement; if it be only half-full, he does not necessarily include the whole space, but may very likely bring his flooring to an end just behind the rearmost member of his congregation. Whatever may be its extension westward from the Altar, he always carries it equally far in the opposite direction behind the Altar, which invariably marks the central point of the completed form. If sufficient material is supplied, he often broadens his edifice northward and southward, in which case it occasionally becomes cruciform, though more often square, and approximating c