were deceived. And when at last the real Saviour, the real, mighty
Saviour appeared, they did not recognise Him. For He was different
from what they had imagined.

Shall I try to tell how it happened, just as my mother used to tell me,
her little boy, the story on winter evenings? Shall I recite it to
myself like one who desires to wake himself at midnight before the Lord
comes? Shall I, who am without learning, search in my poor confused
head for the fragments that have remained in it? So much has been lost
in the wear and tear of the world, and yet since it has grown so dark
with me something flashes out, and shines forth on high, like some
starry crown in the night! Shall I invoke the holy figures that they
may stand by me through the anguish of my last days, that they may
surround me with their glad eternal light, and let no spirit of despair
come near me?--The path between the walls of this cruel fortress is
narrow, and through it only a feeble light penetrates to me.

As God wills. I am grateful for and content with the pale reflection
of the sky that comes to me from the holy east through the cracks in
the wall. Oh, God, my Father, let glad tidings come to me from distant
lands and far-off times, so that my simple heart can hold and
understand them. I am thirsty for God's truth, and whatever shall
strengthen, comfort, and save me, will be for me God's truth. Oh, thou
pale light! Art thou my mother's heritage and blessing? Oh, my
mother! From out the eternal dwelling speak to thy unhappy son--oh,
speak!

Did I not always see you in the woman who, during the cold winter
season, was compelled to go across the mountains far from home? And so
I will begin.