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“ From Thy distant throne in glory, flash upon

my inward sight, Fill the midnight of my spirit with the splen

dour of Thy light.

“ All Thine other gifts and blessings, common

mercies, I disown; Separated from my brothers, I would see Thy

face alone.

“Let them toil and pray together, let them win

earth's best reward, This shall be my only glory - I alone have

seen the Lord.

I have watched and I have waited as one

watcheth for the morn: Still Thou hidest in the heavens, still Thou

leavest me forlorn.

“Now I seek Thee in the desert, where the

holy hermits dwell; There, beside the saint Serapion, I will find a

lonely cell.

“There at last Thou wilt be gracious; there

Thy presence, long-concealed, In the solitude and silence to my heart shall

stand revealed.

Thou shalt come, at morn or even, o'er the

rolling waves of sand; I shall see Thee close beside me, I shall touch

Thy pierced hand.

“ Lo, Thy pilgrim kneels before Thee; bless

my journey with a word ; Tell me now that, if I follow, I shall find Thee,

O my Lord ! "

Felix listened: through the darkness, like the

whispering of the wind, Came a secret voice in answer : “ Seek aright,

and thou shalt find."

Long and toilsome was his pathway through

the heavy land of heat, Egypt's blazing sun above him, blistering sands

beneath his feet.

Still he plodded slowly onward, step by step

and mile by mile, Till he reached the rugged mountain, beetling

high above the Nile,

Where the birds of air assemble, once a year,

their noisy flocks, Then, departing, leave their sentinel perched

among the barren rocks.

Far away, on wings of gladness, over land and

sea they fly; But the watcher on the summit lonely stands

against the sky.

There the eremite Serapion in a cave had made

his bed; There the bands of wandering pilgrims sought

his blessing, brought him bread.

Month by month, in deep seclusion, hidden in

the rocky cleft, Dwelt the hermit, fasting, praying ; once a year

the cave he left.

On that day, one happy pilgrim, chosen out of

all the land, Won a special sign of favour from the holy

hermit's hand.

Underneath the narrow window, at the door

way closely sealed, While the afterglow of sunset deepened round

him, Felix kneeled.

“ Man of God, of men most holy - thou whose

gifts cannot be priced !. Grant me thy most precious guerdon; tell me

how to find the Christ.”

Breathless, Felix bowed and listened, but no

answering voice he heard ; Darkness folded, dumb and deathlike, round the

Mountain of the Bird.

Then he said, “The saint is silent - he would

teach my soul to wait; I will tarry here in patience, like a beggar at

nis gate.”

So the companies of pilgrims, clambering up

the rocky stair, Found the lonely, voiceless stranger by the

window, lost in prayer,

Never moving from his station, watching there

without complaint, Soon they came to call him holy, fed him as

they fed the saint.

Day by day he saw the sunrise flood the distant

plain with gold, While the River Nile beneath him, silvery

coiling, seaward rolled.

Night by night he saw the planets range their

glittering court on high, Saw the moon, with regal motion, mount her

throne and rule the sky.

Morn advanced and midnight fled, in visionary

pomp attired; Never morn and never midnight brought the

vision long-desired.

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