‘Zophiel!’ continued the pitying angel, ’the lips of Sibyl shall repeat thy songs, for they are all graven upon her heart!  But you are now to chant in heaven, and the canticle is to be for His praise who made all; and when you exalt Him, put forth all your strength, and be not weary; for you can never go far enough!

’Angelo! the Hosanna is for heaven.  The Rose lingers not here to chant alone the Miserere.’

Alas! the wild human dread and sorrow overpowered all else in the breasts of the brothers as they gazed upon the women of their love.  A strange smile played over the heavenly face of the Angel as he murmured:  ’Are they not safe in the bosom of the everlasting Love?’

* * * * *

Slowly through the Valley of the Shadow—­and then more rapid than the flight of thought, moved the brothers, on—­on—­through myriads upon myriads of blazing suns, of starry universes; on—­on—­until they reached the limits of space, the boundary of material worlds.  The angels left them as they entered the primeval night of chaos, the shoreless ocean between the sensuous and spiritual life.  For alone with God through chaos do we arrive at the sensuous body; alone with God in chaos do we leave this body of corruption, from which is evolved the Body of the Spirit, ‘glorious and unchangeable.’  And again is clasped the thread of Identity, on which are strung the pearls of memory, and the Past and Future of Time become the Eternal Present!

* * * * *

Clothed in immortal vesture, the brothers now stand before that Great White Throne, which has no shadow, but is built of Light inaccessible, and full of Glory.

Summoned by the Holy Lawgiver, the meek Anselm knelt before Him, blinded with splendor, dazzled with fathomless majesty.

’Behold thy creature before thee for judgment, O Thou in whose sight the angels are not pure!  We are born to evil, and who may endure thy justice?  Look not into my weak and sinful heart, O God, but upon the face of Thy Anointed, in whom is all my trust!  Have mercy upon me!’

Tears of mingled gratitude and penitence welled up, as in the days of exile, from his self-accusing breast.

Wonderful condescension the Father Himself wiped them from the downcast eyes!

And the Saviour of men clothed him in a garment of fine linen, white and pure, and ’to him was given the hidden manna, and a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth but he that receiveth it.’

Then the words over whose mystic meaning he had so often pondered, came, like the sound of many waters, upon his ear: 

’And he that shall overcome, and keep my works unto the end, to him I will give power over the nations; and he shall rule them with a rod of iron, and as the vessel of a potter they shall be broken.

‘And I will give him the morning star.’