I felt the materialistic, twentieth-century world slipping from me; was I back in the ancient days when Jesus appeared before Peter on the sea? As Sri Yukteswar, a modern Yogi-Christ, reached the spot where Dijen and I were speechlessly rooted, Master smiled at my friend and remarked: "I sent you a message too, but you were unable to grasp it." Dijen was silent, but glared at me suspiciously.

I have helped an artist to draw a true picture of the great Yogi-Christ of modern India; it appears in this book. The eve of my departure for the United States found me in Sri Yukteswar's holy presence. "Forget you were born a Hindu, and don't be an American. Take the best of them both," Master said in his calm way of wisdom. "Be your true self, a child of God.

He is my incomparable guru, the celestial Babaji! "'Babaji! I repeated, awestruck. 'The Yogi-Christ Babaji! The invisible-visible savior Babaji! Oh, if I could just recall the past and be once more in his presence, to show my devotion at his lotus feet! "'Never mind, Lahiri Mahasaya said consolingly. 'He has promised to see you again.