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Page 11
'It is the Mother of our Lord!' said the astonished brothers, as they
gazed upon the finished work.
'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.'
Thus the humble and self-abnegating Anselm, who had kept the
commandments and loved his Maker, passed in glory to the Saints of
Power. The morn of the Eternal Present dawned upon him, and the sublime
'_vision in God_' was open before him.
* * * * *
Then were the artists summoned before the Throne. Awed yet enchanted,
they bowed before their Maker, with raised hands clasped in gratitude
for the happiness they had known on earth. Then spoke Angelo, the
musician:
'Behold thy grateful children at thy feet, O Father of earth and heaven!
We truly repent of all we may have done amiss in Thy lower world. Thy
heritage was very fair, and the exceeding Beauty thereof covered the
Evil, and in all things were planted the germs of Good. 'Our prayer was
in our work,' and all things spake to us of Thee, for the hand of a
Father made all. Forgive us if we have loved life too well; we have
always felt that the rhythmed pulse of our own hearts throbbed but in
obedience to Thy tuneful laws! Loving our fellow men, we have labored to
awake them to a sense of Thy tenderness, O Creator of Love and of
Beauty, so unsparingly casting the ever-new glories around them! Father,
we have loved Thee in thy glorious creation.
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