ringing to Matins; and he rose and went down with the rest. But
when the Brethren left the choir Brother Ambrose stayed fast in his
place, hearing and seeing nothing because of the Vision of God; and
at Lauds they found him and told the Prior.

He questioned Brother Ambrose of the matter, and when he heard the
Vision bade him limn the Holy City even as he had seen it; and the
Precentor gave him uterine vellum and much fine gold and what
colours he asked for the work. Then Brother Ambrose limned a
wondrous fair city of gold with turrets and spires; and he inlaid
blue for the sapphire, and green for the emerald, and vermilion
where the city seemed aflame with the glory of God; but the angels
he could not limn, nor could he set the rest of the colours as he
saw them, nor the wall of stars on either hand; and Brother Ambrose
fell sick because of the exceeding great longing he had to limn the
Holy City, and was very sad; but the Prior bade him thank God, and
remember the infirmity of the flesh, which, like the little grey
cloud, veiled Jerusalem to his sight.


As I write the monastery bell hard by rings out across the lark's
song. They still have time for visions behind those guarding
walls, but for most of us it is not so. We let slip the ideal for
what we call the real, and the golden dreams vanish while we clutch
at phantoms: we speed along life's pathway, counting to the full
the sixty minutes of every hour, yet the race is not to the swift
nor the battle to the strong. Lying here in this quiet backwater
it is hard to believe that the world without is turbulent with
storm and stress and the ebb and flow of uncertain tides. The
little yellow cat rolling on its back among the daisies, the staid