Then 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, ‘Oh, 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 spoke once more; but it was as if he spoke to others, to some one at a distance; 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 according to the wisdom that has been given them.  And there are some who think that our dear Lord might have found another way, and that wait, sometimes with trembling, lest He should fail; but not among us who have lived on earth, for we know.  And it is our work to show to all the worlds that His way never fails, and how wonderful it is, and beautiful above all that heart has conceived.  And thus we justify the ways of God, who is our Father.  But in the other worlds there are many who will continue to fear until the history of the earth is all ended and the chronicles are made complete.”