You question me concerning the miracles of Jesus.
Every thousand thousand years the sun and the moon and this earth and all her sister planets meet in a straight line, and they confer for a moment together.
Then they slowly disperse and await the passing of another thousand thousand years.
There are no miracles beyond the seasons, yet you and I do not know all the seasons. And what if a season shall be made manifest in the shape of a man?
In Jesus the elements of our bodies and our dreams came together according to law. All that was timeless before Him became timeful in Him.
They say He gave sight to the blind and walking to the paralysed, and that He drove devils out of madmen.
Perchance blindness is but a dark thought that can be overcome by a burning thought. Perchance a withered limb is but idleness that can be quickened by energy. And perhaps the devils, these restless elements in our life, are driven out by the angels of peace and serenity.
They say He raised the dead to life. If you can tell me what is death, then I will tell you what is life.
In a field I have watched an acorn, a thing so still and seemingly useless. And in the spring I have seen that acorn take roots and rise, the beginning of an oak tree, towards the sun.
Surely you would deem this a miracle, yet that miracle is wrought a thousand thousand times in the drowsiness of every autumn and the passion of every spring.
Why shall it not be wrought in the heart of man? Shall not the seasons meet in the hand or upon the lips of a Man Anointed?
If our God hsa given to earth the art to nestle seed whilst the seed is seemingly dead, why shall He not give to the heart of man to breathe life into another heart, even a heart seemingly dead?
I have spoken of these miracles which I deem but little beside the greater miracle, which is the man Himself, the Wayfarer, the man who turned my dross into gold, who taught me how to love those who hate me, and in so doing brought me comfort and gave sweet dreams to my sleep.
This is the miracle in my own life.
My soul was blind, my soul was lame. I was possessed by restless spirits, and I was dead.
But now I see clearly, and I walk erect. I am at peace, and I live to witmess and proclaim my own being every hour of the day.
And I am not one of His followers. I am but an old astronomer who visits the fields of space once a season, and who would be heedful of the law and the miracles thereof.
And I am at the twilight of my time, but whenever I would seek its dawning, I seek the youth of Jesus.
And for ever shall age seek youth. In me now it is knowledge that is seeking vision.