I could
never do it by day with so much earnestness, conviction and eloquence.
In the daytime I am not eloquent, but bashful and embarrassed, even
when alone. I cannot pray by day for fear of feeling ridiculous, for
g?ne. But at night this g?ne is gone and I abandon myself to prayer
with a true passion, sometimes - even as all passions in the immaterial
life - going beyond my control. At times my devout passion during
prayer, even at the very moment, seems exaggerated and affected to me,
but I am unable to restrain it.
But now the remarkable fact about it is that I never, absolutely never,
have perceived anything in my visions that at my passionate and ardent
invocation appeared as a divine image, as an angel or as Christ. Human
beings, dead or living, came almost always when at all strongly urged;
Emmy I saw many times in various shapes and circumstances. But at my
invocations and prayers to these higher beings, whose existence man has
always had to conclude from the signs of the world perceptible to the
senses or from inner consciousness, I have never seen anything but what
we call natural beauties - sunlight; blue heavens; flaming evening
skies; radiant horizons, brightening or clouding with promising or
warning significance.
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