I, too, stood on the sacred image. For a moment this foot was on his face. It was on the face of the man who has been ever in my thoughts, on the face that was before me on the mountains, in my wanderings, in prison, on the best and most beautiful face that any man can ever know, on the face of him whom I have always longed to love. Even now that face is looking at me with eyes of pity from the plaque rubbed flat by many feet. « Trample ! » said those compassionate eyes. « Trample ! Your foot suffers in pain ; it must suffer like all the feet that have stepped on this plaque. But that pain alone is enough. I understand your pain and your suffering. It is for that reason that I am here. »« Lord, I resented your silence. »« I was not silent. I suffered beside you. »

« My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast ! I will sing and make melody ! Awake my soul ! Awake, O harp and lyre ! I will awake the dawn. » In childhood these words had always risen in his mind when he watched the wind blow over the blue sky and through the trees ; but that was a time when God was not as now an object of fear and perplexity but one who was near to the earth, giving harmony and living joy.