in death with his _Aurora_ and his _Holy Week_ and his _Divine Vision_
all lying still unfinished at his bedside. 'Open the door and let in
more of that music,' the dying man said to his weeping son. Behmen was
already hearing the harpers harping with their harps. He was already
taking his part in the song they sing in heaven to Him who loved them,
and washed them from their sins in His own blood. 'And now,' said the
prodigal son, the blessed Behmen, 'I go to-day to be with my Redeemer and
my King in Paradise,' and so died.