And wait for hearts untaught to learn my way. 
  But thou shalt go to Lupon, to the three
  Who serve me there, and take this word from me: 
  Tell each of them his Master bids him go
  Alone to Spiran’s huts, across the snow;
  There he shall find a certain task for me: 
  But what, I do not tell to them nor thee. 
  Give thou the message, make my word the test,
  And crown for me the one who loves me best.” 
  Silent the angel stood, with folded hands,
  To take the imprint of his Lord’s commands;
  Then drew one breath, obedient and elate,
  And passed the self-same hour, through Lupon’s gate.

* * * * *

  First to the Temple door he made his way;
  And there, because it was a holy-day,
  He saw the folk in thousands thronging, stirred
  By ardent thirst to hear the preacher’s word. 
  Then, while the people whispered Bernol’s name,
  Through aisles that hushed behind him Bernol came;
  Strung to the keenest pitch of conscious might,
  With lips prepared and firm, and eyes alight. 
  One moment at the pulpit step he knelt
  In silent prayer, and on his shoulder felt
  The angel’s hand:—­“The Master bids thee go
  Alone to Spiran’s huts, across the snow,
  To serve Him there.”  Then Bernol’s hidden face
  Went white as death, and for about the space
  Of ten slow heart-beats there was no reply;
  Till Bernol looked around and whispered, “Why?”
  But answer to his question came there none;
  The angel sighed, and with a sigh was gone.

* * * * *

  Within the humble house where Malvin spent
  His studious years, on holy things intent,
  Sweet stillness reigned; and there the angel found
  The saintly sage immersed in thought profound,
  Weaving with patient toil and willing care
  A web of wisdom, wonderful and fair: 
  A seamless robe for Truth’s great bridal meet,
  And needing but one thread to be complete. 
  Then Asmiel touched his hand, and broke the thread
  Of fine-spun thought, and very gently said,
  “The One of whom thou thinkest bids thee go
  Alone to Spiran’s huts, across the snow,
  To serve Him there.”  With sorrow and surprise
  Malvin looked up, reluctance in his eyes. 
  The broken thought, the strangeness of the call,
  The perilous passage of the mountain-wall,
  The solitary journey, and the length
  Of ways unknown, too great for his frail strength,
  Appalled him.  With a doubtful brow
  He scanned the doubtful task, and muttered “How?”
  But Asmiel answered, as he turned to go,
  With cold, disheartened voice, “I do not know.”

* * * * *