thou lovest is not thine own; it is given thee for the present,
not irrevocably nor for ever, but even as a fig or a bunch of
grapes at the appointed season of the year. . . .
"But these are words of evil omen.". . .
What, callest thou aught of evil omen save that which
signifies some evil thing? Cowardice is a word of evil omen, if
thou wilt, and meanness of spirit, and lamentation and mourning,
and shamelessness. . . .
But do not, I pray thee, call of evil omen a word that is
significant of any natural thing:--as well call of evil omen the
reaping of the corn; for that means the destruction of the ears,
though not of the World!--as well say that the fall of the leaf
is of evil omen; that the dried fig should take the place of the
green; that raisins should be made from grapes. All these are
changes from a former state into another; not destruction, but an
ordered economy, a fixed administration. Such is leaving home, a
change of small account; such is Death, a greater change, from
what now is, not to what is not, but to ehat is not now.
"Shall I then no longer be?"
Not so; thou wilt be; but something different, of which the
World now hath need. For thou too wert born not when thou
chosest, but when the World had need of thee.
CXXXI

Wherefore a good man and true, bearing in mind who he is and
whence he came and from whom he sprang, cares only how he may
fill his post with due discipline and obedience to God.
Wilt thou that I continue to live? Then will I live, as one
that is free and noble, as Thou wouldst have me. For Thow hast
made me free from hindrance in what appertaineth unto me. But
hast Thou no further need of me? I thank Thee! Up to this hour
have I stayed for Thy sake and none other's: and now in obedience
to Thee I depart.
"How dost thou depart?"
Again I say, as Thoun wouldst have me; as one that is free,
as Thy servant, as one whose ear is open unto what Thou dost
enjoin, what Thou dost forbid.

CXXXII

Whatsoever place or post Thou assignest me, sooner will I
die a thousand deaths, as Socrates said, then depart it. And
where wilt Thou have be me? At Rome of Athens? At Thebes or on a
desert island? Only remember me there! Shouldst Thou send me
where man cannot live as Nature would have him, I will depart,
not in disobedience to Thee, but as though Thou wert sounding the
signal for my retreat: I am not deserting Thee--far be that from
me! I only perceive that thou needest me no longer.

CXXXIII