178. Blow Thy Music Through My Shattered Reed

Thou Master Piper, blow Thy music through the broken reed of all religions, and bring forth Thy one theme of truth. Dress that divine theme with many golden robes of the richness of Thy Spirit.

And O, Master Piper, gather together, from the highways and byways of expression, all incomplete songs of hearts that seek attunement with Thee, and let them flow into the joy of completeness, through the love-played flute of life!

For those familiar shrill-soft notes of Thine, I listened every day in this silence-tuned radio-mind of mine. I tried to tune in for Thee, from so far, far away, and at first many noises of restlessness shot through my silence, but, after a few fine, careful touches of concentration, Thou didst fly on the wings of space — and suddenly I heard Thee singing a silent chorus of all earth’s goodness and the nobility of all hearts.


179. Heal My Nerves and Install in Me a New Set of Telephonic Nerves