Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1924-06-10
OUR STAR
BY DR.. Frank Cane

II ROM the most remote antiquity there
II has been belief, or call it a suspicion
or a fancy, that stars have relations
to and influence upon souls.
When Wordsworth made the phrase "The
soul that rises in us, our LIES star" he
struck chord full of the overtones Of the
centuries.
The scholars of a thousand years studies,
classified, and applied the laws of star inf1u-
ence as if it were fact. Every king had
his astroogers.
The fancy grew that those myriad points
of light in the sky were but each a twin
with some human creature, that every souls
fate and future lay somewhere bound up
with some one Of those twinkling indces
upon the page of night.
Reduced to plain English, the idea under
lying all this is that some will or powers in
the unknown around about me moves me as
a pawn upon the chessboard and determines
the events of my life.
1t is an instructive attempt to find reason
and order in the apparent haphazard Of
earthly happenings; it is the effort of the
mind to rationalze the universe.
We shall probably never be able to master
the secret of why things happen but to the
last day of time humanity will refuse to be-
lieve that things happen for reason at all.
Intelligence simply cannot conceive of
world whose god is chance.
like to think Of my star, though I know
it to be only a pretty fancy. l like it, first,
because l love to taste the creed of the past,
of other times and men; it seems to make
ME brother to them.
Somewhere there in the lovely clusters
that hang like grapes of light in the ardor
of infinite night somewhere is my star,
little pulsng soul there in that nebulous
number even as [ am here among the nebulae
Of earths millions.
1t moves me, has my program. Being near
er God (who stitch in the circle of the
heavens) than /, it better understands His
plans; so it is leading me, in its way
of angel wisdom, up to God, up to the divine
stature to be mine. To this end He writes
each day what is to happen to me, now
surprise Of pleasure, now grief, now
thrill of success, now the dull pain Of failure.
It's mind is not to make me happy. Souls
that must understand that they would
starve upon a diet Of nothing but happiness.
It's mind is to make me starlike, to work
some stellar majesty into this fretful earthi-
ness
No one can prove any Of this. It is
matter that lies too deep in the secrets of
life for intellect to handle
Perhaps it is but the inertia Of centuries
of superstition. Very well; I am content to
feel in the spiritual inheritance of my
race. Perhaps it is truer than the intel
lectual stuff bequeathed me.
But | believe it is a matter of instinct,
pure, primal instinct, that bears the soul Of
men in its highest moods, to the feeling that
in some way it is led.
l do not want to be negligible dust grain
blown by the winds of chance, either here
among men or hereafter among stars
Is not every religion the attempt OF the
souls instinct to establish rider out of ap-
parent chaos; to realize that the destiny
about it, as well as the thought life within
it, is purposeful intelligent, reasonable?
We mean all that We say-God
Copyright, 1924