11. XI.
He saw the pefect face, and never did the vision
of his dreams, or the imaginings of his hopes,
seem half so divine or beautiful. The face looked
forth from a cloud, the edges of which were transparent
with a golden light; and as the lips opened
to speak, the words came forth in visible rays,
and the sounds fell upon his heart in melody, and
the air blossomed with odor. And the light from
her lips fell upon his own, and his soul was lifted
into the highest hope, when he heard the tones of
his own voice, and felt that they were like hers.
And he gave praises aloud to the divine spirit that
looked down upon him, and he spake in song,
even in the holy song of the prophets who had
perished for the truth. And the voice told him
that his song was sweet in her ears, and worthy of
her altars. Till the night cloud settled down upon
the pale groves where he worshipped, did Ipsistos
linger in the place which became so holy to his
heart; and wings lifted his feet that night when
he returned to the humble dwelling of his father.
Wings lifted his feet, for he had a divine purpose
in his heart.
