Breathes there the man with soul so dead who never to himself hath said, "I feel the Bern!"

Breathes there the man with soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.

from "The Lay of the Last Minstrel" by Sir Walter Scott




"Spirit Triumphant! Flame through the weakness of faltering, fainthearted souls! Burn up egoism, kindle compassion, so that selflessness, the lifestream of humanity, may flow as the wellspring of spiritual rebirth!" — Rudolf Steiner

Rudolf Steiner, "Verse for America"

May we be centered in the feeling

of compassionate love in our hearts

as we seek to unite with human beings who share our goals

and with spirit beings who, full of grace,

look downward on our earnest, heartfelt striving,

strengthening us from realms of light

and illuminating our love.