Sun.
The young children stretch out their hands and grow in thy brightness;
The old men creep forth and seeing remember their strength.
Only the dead forget Thee, oh Sun!

When Thou art wroth then Thou dost hide Thy face;
Thou drawest around Thee a thick curtain of shadows.
Then the Earth grows cold and the Heavens are dismayed;
They tremble, and the sound thereof is the sound of thunder:
They weep, and their tears are outpoured in the rain;
They sigh, and the wild winds are the voice of their sighing.
The flowers die, the fruitful fields languish and turn pale;
The old men and the little children go unto their appointed place
When Thou withdrawest thy light, oh Sun!

Say, what art Thou, oh Thou matchless Splendour --
Who set Thee on high, oh Thou flaming Terror?
When didst Thou begin, and when is the day of Thy ending?
Thou art the raiment of the living Spirit. {Endnote 16}
None did place Thee on high, for Thou was the Beginning.
Thou shalt not be ended when thy children are forgotten;
Nay, Thou shalt never end, for thy hours are eternal.
Thou sittest on high within thy golden house and
measurest out the centuries.
Oh Father of Life! oh dark-dispelling Sun!

He ceased this solemn chant, which, though it seems a poor enough
thing after going through my mill, is really beautiful and impressive
in the original; and then, after a moment's pause, he glanced up
towards the funnel-sloped opening in the dome and added --

Oh Sun, descend upon thine Altar!

As he spoke a wonderful and a beautiful thing happened. Down
from on high flashed a splendid living ray of light, cleaving
the twilight like a sword of fire. Full upon the closed petals
it fell and ran shimmering down their golden sides, and then
the glorious flower opened as though beneath the bright influence.
Slowly it opened, and as the great petals fell wide and revealed
the golden altar on which the fire ever burns, the priests blew
a blast upon the trumpets, and from all the people there rose
a shout of praise that beat against the domed roof and came echoing
down the marble walls. And now the flower altar was open, and
the sunlight fell full upon the tongue of sacred flame and beat
it down, so that it wavered, sank, and vanished into the hollow
recesses whence it rose. As it vanished, the mellow notes of
the trumpets rolled out once more. Again the old priest flung
up his hands and called aloud --