First be sure of the call and of thy soulís answer. For if the call is not true, not the touch of Godís powers or the voice of his messengers, but the lure of thy ego, the end of thy endeavour will be a poor spiritual fiasco or else a deep disaster.

And if not the soulís fervour, but only the mindís assent or interest replies to the divine summons or only the lower lifeís desires cluthes at some side attraction of the fruits of Yoga-power or Yoga-pleasure or only a transcient emotion leaps like an unsteady flame moved by the intensity of the Voice or its sweetness or grandeur, then too there can be little surety for thee in the difficult path of Yoga.

The outer instruments of mortal man have no force to carry him through the severe ardours of this spiritual journey and Titanic inner battle or to meet its terrible or subtle and formidable dangers. Only his spiritís august and steadfast will and the quenchless fire of his soulís invincible ardour are sufficient for this difficult transformation and this high improbable endeavour.

A call was on him from intangible heights;
Indifferent to the little outpost Mind,
He dwelt in the wideness of the Eternal's reign.
His being now exceeded thinkable Space,
His boundless thought was neighbour to cosmic sight:
A universal light was in his eyes,
A golden influx flowed through heart and brain;
A force came down into his mortal limbs,
A current from eternal seas of Bliss;

He felt the invasion and the nameless joy.