the self can no longer use it as an instrument; but the self is not injured. If I break the lens of my binoculars, I cannot see through them; but I am still a "seer." And that the self still exists after an injury to the brain, with its hearing and seeing consciousness intact, is shown by the fact that often the brain and cell life learn to use other agencies than the eye and ear to do the work that "I," the conscious self, wants done. Take, for illustration, the finer sense of touch which the blind man develops. It enables him to read, to get messages through his fingers from your lips, and to find his way about. He did not lose his seeing consciousness. He merely lost one of its instruments; his consciousness immediately set to work to find another.

The fact is that we are safe in saying that, if we cannot prove just what the consciousness is in its essence, we can say that it is, and how it works. And the greatest of the scientists today are assisting us in showing a pre-existent self or consciousness.

We find, too, that the search for the self or consciousness is not to be ended by concluding that it has taken up a temporary habitation in the body any more than we can say that a man is inseparable from his house merely because he is at home. To find what the nature of the self is, we must look beyond the body; and our study will necessarily lead us into an investigation of the universe in which consciousness finds one of its fields of expression. What is the nature of the world in which we live? Are we related to it organically only or in some higher way? Is there a consciousness back of it? If so, what is its nature? In short, what is the Cosmic Consciousness?