summer's dawn, rippled towards me, and then gently retiring, left a
single rose, crimson and fragrant, close within my reach. I stooped
and caught it quickly--surely it was a real rose from some dewy
garden of the earth, and no dream!

"One rose from all the roses in Heaven!" said the mystic Voice, in
tones of enthralling sweetness--"One--fadeless and immortal!--only
one, but sufficient for all! One love from all the million loves of
men and women--one, but enough for Eternity! How long the rose has
awaited its flowering,--how long the love has awaited its
fulfilment--only the recording angels know! Such roses bloom but
once in the wilderness of space and time; such love comes but once
in a Universe of worlds!"

I listened, trembling; I held the rose against my breast between my
clasped hands.

"O Sorrowful Star!" went on the Voice--"What shall become of thee if
thou forsakest the way of Love! O little Sphere of beauty and
delight, why are thy people so blind! O that their eyes were lifted
unto Heaven!--their hearts to joy!--their souls to love! Who is it
that darkens life with sorrow?--who is it that creates the delusion
of death?"

I found my speech suddenly.

"Nay, surely,"--I said, half whispering--"We must all die!"

"Not so!" and the mystic Voice rang out imperatively--"There is no
death! For God is alive!--and from Him Life only can emanate!"