God sent his messenger of faith,
And whispered in the maiden’s heart,
“Rise up and look from where thou art,
And scatter with unselfish hands
Thy freshness on the barren sands
And solitudes of Death.”

O beauty of holiness,
Of self-forgetfulness, of lowliness! 
O power of meekness,
Whose very gentleness and weakness
Are like the yielding, but irresistible air! 
Upon the pages
Of the sealed volume that I bear,
The deed divine
Is written in characters of gold,
That never shall grow old,
But through all ages
Burn and shine,
With soft effulgence! 
O God! it is thy indulgence
That fills the world with the bliss
Of a good deed like this!

THE ANGEL OF EVIL DEEDS, with open book. 
Not yet, not yet
Is the red sun wholly set,
But evermore recedes,
While open still I bear
The Book of Evil Deeds,
To let the breathings of the upper air
Visit its pages and erase
The records from its face! 
Fainter and fainter as I gaze
In the broad blaze
The glimmering landscape shines,
And below me the black river
Is hidden by wreaths of vapor! 
Fainter and fainter the black lines
Begin to quiver
Along the whitening surface of the paper;
Shade after shade
The terrible words grow faint and fade,
And in their place
Runs a white space!

Down goes the sun! 
But the soul of one,
Who by repentance
hath escaped the dreadful sentence,
Shines bright below me as I look. 
It is the end! 
With closed Book
To God do I ascend. 
Lo! over the mountain steeps
A dark, gigantic shadow sweeps
Beneath my feet;
A blackness inwardly brightening
With sullen heat,
As a storm-cloud lurid with lightning. 
And a cry of lamentation,
Repeated and again repeated,
Deep and loud
As the reverberation
Of cloud answering unto cloud,
Swells and rolls away in the distance,
As if the sheeted
Lightning retreated. 
Baffled and thwarted by the wind’s resistance.

It is Lucifer,
The son of mystery;
And since God suffers him to be,
He, too, is God’s minister. 
And labors for some good
By us not understood!

SECOND INTERLUDE

MARTIN LUTHER

A CHAMBER IN THE WARTBURG.  MORNING.  MARTIN LUTHER WRITING.

MARTIN LUTHER. 
  Our God, a Tower of Strength is He,
  A goodly wall and weapon;
  From all our need He helps us free,
  That now to us doth happen. 
    The old evil foe
    Doth in earnest grow,
    In grim armor dight,
    Much guile and great might;
  On earth there is none like him.

Oh yes; a tower of strength indeed,
A present help in all our need,
A sword and buckler is our God. 
Innocent men have walked unshod
O’er burning ploughshares, and have trod
Unharmed on serpents in their path,
And laughed to scorn the Devil’s wrath!