"Neither do you comprehend God!" I retorted on one occasion. "When
a saint is clear to you, you will be one." Among the trillion
mysteries, breathing every second the inexplicable air, who may
venture to ask that the fathomless nature of a master be instantly
grasped?

Students came, and generally went. Those who craved a path of
oily sympathy and comfortable recognitions did not find it at the
hermitage. Master offered shelter and shepherding for the aeons,
but many disciples miserly demanded ego-balm as well. They departed,
preferring life's countless humiliations before any humility.
Master's blazing rays, the open penetrating sunshine of his wisdom,
were too powerful for their spiritual sickness. They sought some
lesser teacher who, shading them with flattery, permitted the fitful
sleep of ignorance.

During my early months with Master, I had experienced a sensitive
fear of his reprimands. These were reserved, I soon saw, for disciples
who had asked for his verbal vivisection. If any writhing student
made a protest, Sri Yukteswar would become unoffendedly silent.
His words were never wrathful, but impersonal with wisdom.

Master's insight was not for the unprepared ears of casual visitors; he
seldom remarked on their defects, even if conspicuous. But toward
students who sought his counsel, Sri Yukteswar felt a serious
responsibility. Brave indeed is the guru who undertakes to transform
the crude ore of ego-permeated humanity! A saint's courage roots
in his compassion for the stumbling eyeless of this world.