"'And there was a light once; men set it on high within a lighthouse, that
it might yield light to all souls at sea; that afar off they might see its
steady light and find harbour, and escape the rocks.

"'And that light flickered and flared, as it listed. It went this way and
it went that; it burnt blue, and green, and red; now it disappeared
altogether, and then it burnt up again. And men, far out at sea, kept
their eyes fixed where they knew the light should be: saying, 'We are
safe; the great light will lead us when we near the rocks.' And on dark
nights men drifted nearer and nearer; and in the stillness of the midnight
they struck on the lighthouse rocks and went down at its feet.

"'What now shall be done to that light, in that it was not a rushlight; in
that it was set on high by the hands of men, and in that men trusted it?
Shall it not be put out?'

"And if he shall answer, saying, 'What are men to me? they are fools, all
fools! Let them die!'--tell him again this story: 'There was a streamlet
once: it burst forth from beneath the snow on a mountain's crown; and the
snow made a cove over it. It ran on pure and blue and clear as the sky
above it, and the banks of snow made its cradle. Then it came to a spot
where the snow ended; and two ways lay before it by which it might journey;
one, on the mountain ridges, past rocks and stones, and down long sunlit
slopes to the sea; and the other, down a chasm. And the stream hesitated:
it twirled and purled, and went this way and went that. It MIGHT have
been, that it would have forced its way past rocks and ridges and along
mountain slopes, and made a path for itself where no path had been; the
banks would have grown green, and the mountain daisy would have grown
beside it; and all night the stars would have looked at their faces in it;
and down the long sunny slopes the sun would have played on it by day; and