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skies; the purple of distant hills; yet their souls voyage through this

enchanted world with a barren stare。

The calamity of the blind is immense; irreparable。 But it does not take

away our share of the things that count……service; friendship; humour;

imagination; wisdom。 It is the secret inner will that controls one's

fate。 We are capable of willing to be good; of loving and being loved;

of thinking to the end that we may be wiser。 We possess these

spirit…born forces equally with all God's children。 Therefore we; too;

see the lightnings and hear the thunders of Sinai。 We; too; march

through the wilderness and the solitary place that shall be glad for us;

and as we pass; God maketh the desert to blossom like the rose。 We; too;

go in unto the Promised Land to possess the treasures of the spirit; the

unseen permanence of life and nature。

The blind man of spirit faces the unknown and grapples with it; and what

else does the world of seeing men do? He has imagination; sympathy;

humanity; and these ineradicable existences pel him to share by a

sort of proxy in a sense he has not。 When he meets terms of colour;

light; physiognomy; he guesses; divines; puzzles out their meaning by

analogies drawn from the senses he has。 I naturally tend to think;

reason; draw inferences as if I had five senses instead of three。 This

tendency is beyond my cont

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