Hermas lifted the child in his arms, and turned with Athenais into
the depth of the garden. There was a dismantled shrine of some
forgotten fashion of worship half hidden among the luxuriant
flowers. A fallen image lay beside it, face downward in the grass.
They stood there, hand in hand, the boy drowsily resting on his
father's shoulder--a threefold harmony of strength and beauty and
innocence.

Silently the roseate light caressed the tall spires of the
cypress-trees; silently the shadows gathered at their feet; silently
the crystal stars looked out from the deepening arch of heaven. The
very breath of being paused. It was the hour of culmination, the
supreme moment of felicity waiting for its crown. The tones of
Hermas were clear and low as he began, half speaking and half
chanting, in the rhythm of an ancient song:

"Fair is the world, the sea, the sky, the double kingdom of day and
night, in the glow of morning, in the shadow of evening, and under
the dripping light of stars.

"Fairer still is life in our breasts, with its manifold music and
meaning, with its wonder of seeing and hearing and feeling and
knowing and being.

"Fairer and still more fair is love, that draws us together, mingles
our lives in its flow, and bears them along like a river, strong and
clear and swift, rejecting the stars in its bosom.

"Wide is our world; we are rich; we have all things. Life is
abundant within us--a measureless deep. Deepest of all is our