who have returned from the hills to strangers, for all are strangers to me but thou.  I shall be sorry to leave thee, Jesus, for our lives have been twisted together, strands of the same rope.  But it must be plain to thee that I am growing weaker; month by month, week by week, my strength is ebbing.  I am going out; but for what reason should I lament that God has not chosen to retain me a few months longer, since my life cannot be prolonged for more than a few months?  My eighty odd years have left me with barely strength enough to sit in the doorway looking back on the way I have come.  Every day the things of this world grow fainter, and life becomes to me an unreal thing, and myself becomes unreal to those around me; only to thee do I retain anything of my vanished self.  So why should I remain?  For thy sake, lest thou be lonely here?  Well, that is reason enough, and I will bear the burden of life as well as I can for thy sake.  A burden it is, and for a reason that thou mayest not divine, for thou art still a young man in my eyes, and, moreover, hast not lived under a roof for many years listening to learned interpretations of Scripture.  Thou hast not guessed, nor wilt thou ever guess, till age reveals it to thee, that as we grow old we no longer concern ourselves to love God as we used to love him.  No one would have thought, not even thou, whose mind is always occupied with God, and who is more conscious of him perhaps than any one I have known, no one, I say, not even thou, would have thought that as we approach death our love of God should grow weaker, but this is so.  In great age nothing seems to matter, and it is this indifference that I wish to escape from.  Thou goest forth in the morning to lead thy flock in search of pasture, if need be many hours, and God is nearer to us in the wilderness than he is among men.  This meaning, Jesus said, that under this roof I, too, may cease to love God?  Not cease to love God:  one doesn’t cease to love God, Hazael answered.  But, Hazael, this night I’ve yielded up the flocks to a new shepherd, for my limbs have grown weary, and what thou tellest me of old age frightens me.  Thou wouldst warn me that God is only loved on the hills under the sky——­ I am too weak to choose my thoughts or my words, and many things pass out of my mind, Hazael answered.  Had I remembered I shouldn’t have spoken.  But why not speak, Father?  Jesus asked, so that I may be prepared in a measure for the new life that awaits me.  Life never comes twice in the same way, Hazael replied; nor do the same things befall any two men.  I know not what may befall thee:  but the sky, Jesus, will always be before thine eyes and the green fields under thy feet, even while listening to Mathias.  But thou didst live once under the sky, Jesus said.  Not long enough, Hazael murmured, but the love of God was ardent in me when I walked by day and night, sleeping under the stars, seeking young men who could give up their lives to the love