hen they both smiled upon her and said, "It is more beautiful than the
most beautiful thing here to see how, under the low skies and in the
short days, a soul will turn to our Father. And sometimes," said Ama,
"when I am watching, one will wander and stray, and be led into the
dark till my heart is sick; then come back and make me glad. Sometimes I
cry out within myself to the Father, and say, 'O my Father, it is
enough!' and it will seem to me that it is not possible to stand by and
see his destruction. And then while you are gazing, while you are
crying, he will recover and return, and go on again. And to the angels it
is more wonderful than to us, for they have never lived there. And all
the other worlds are eager to hear what we can tell them. For no one
knows except the Father how the battle will turn, or when it will all be
accomplished; and there are some who tremble for our little brethren. For
to look down and see how little light there is, and how no one knows what
may happen to him next, makes them afraid who never were there."

The little Pilgrim listened with an intent face, clasping her hands, and
said,--

"But it never could be that our Father should be overcome by evil. Is not
that known in all the worlds?"

Then the lady turned and kissed her; and the poet broke forth in singing,
and said, "Faith is more heavenly than heaven; it is more beautiful than
the angels. It is the only voice that can answer to our Father. We praise
him, we glorify him, we love his name; but there is but one response to
him through all the worlds, and that is the cry of the little brothers,
who see nothing and know nothing, but believe that he will never fail."

At this the little Pilgrim wept, for her heart was touched; but she
said,--

"We are not so ignorant; for we have our Lord who is our Brother, and he
teaches us all that we require to know."

Upon this the poet rose and lifted up his hands and sang again a great
song; it was in the other language which the little Pilgrim still did not
understand, but she could make out that it sounded like a great
proclamation that He was wise as he was good, and called upon all to see
that the Lord had chosen the only way: and the sound of the poet's voice
was like a great trumpet sounding bold and sweet, as if to tell this to
those who were far away.

"For you must know," said the Lady Ama, who all the time held the
Pilgrim's hand, "that it is permitted to all to judge accordin