zephon looked not on the abodes of man. the hierarch alone stood before him, surrounded by a blaze of glory. ineffable brilliance shone forth from his brow and wings, yet softened into compassionating tenderness was his radiant look, his thrilling voice. a trembling awe spread over the seraph, and involuntarily he bowed before him.
“thy will is accomplished, youthful brother, thou hast glanced on man,” spake the angelic voice; “yet know, that which thou hast seen is but as a single grain amid the spreading sands of the boundless desert; as a single spark of earthly fire amid the countless stars and blazing suns of heaven, compared with the scenes of woe yon world of beauty holds. when sin entered, joy fled trembling up to the heaven whence he came. twined as he was with purity and innocence, without them earth could have for him no stay, no resting;—man reaps the fruit he sows,—for not in a guilty world may the eternal mark the distinction between the righteous and the wicked. in that which thou hast seen there was no guilt, no sin. twin-born in purity, as in their high ethereal essence, yet, from the imperfection of earth, so widely severed their mortal fates, so strangely parted, if such things are, is’t marvel that the hymn of love, of praise, from lips of man should be so faint and weak? zephon, thou hast looked on earth; thou hast marked the dealings of our father with his children. speak then, my brother, oh, speak! will the song of joy, of adoration, still flow from thy lips—still, still canst thou proclaim him love?”
the harps of heaven were stilled. the invisible choirs hushed their full tide of song. darker and darker, for a brief space, became the shadow around the youthful seraph, and his radiant brow was buried in its shrouding folds. deep, awful was that momentary pause, for it seemed as if the hosts of heaven themselves were hushed in sympathy and dread.
a sudden flood of dazzling effulgence burst through the gloomy shade, dispersing it as a thin vapour on either side. beams of living lustre illumined that glorious brow, and in liquid music his voice flowed forth.
“shall i be less than mortal—i, who serve my father amidst his chosen choirs, who knew him, unobstructed by the veil of earth? let the full song burst forth; let the bright seraphim strike the bold harps again; let the rich hymn swell out in deeper glory; hallelujah to our father and our king! his ways are dark, but his will is love! praise him, ye myriads of angels; praise him, ye heaven of heavens; proclaim, proclaim him love! his ways are pleasantness, his paths are peace.—praise him, ye glorious hosts—hallelujah, he is love!”