Within my being lives a silent power,
A firm, sound frame of wise and compassionate strength.
How often do I deny this gift,
This blessing from my Source?
Perhaps as the outward power of the sun recedes
in winter,
I will learn to own the strength within.
The worship of the Great Mystery was silent, solitary, free from all self-seeking. It was silent because all speech is of necessity feeble and imperfect ... it was solitary, because the people believed that the Great Spirit is nearer to us in solitude, and that no one was authorized to come between an individual and the Creator. Among us, all were conscious of their divinity.