Then the Earth grows cold and the Heavens are dismayed;
They tremble, and the sound thereof is the sound of thunder:
They weep, and their tears are outpoured in the rain;
They sigh, and the wild winds are the voice of their sighing.
The flowers die, the fruitful fields languish and turn pale;
The old men and the little children go unto their appointed place
When Thou withdrawest thy light, oh Sun!
Say, what art Thou, oh Thou matchless Splendour --
Who set Thee on high, oh Thou flaming Terror?
When didst Thou begin, and when is the day of Thy ending?
Thou art the raiment of the living Spirit. {Endnote 16}
None did place Thee on high, for Thou was the Beginning.
Thou shalt not be ended when thy children are forgotten;
Nay, Thou shalt never end, for thy hours are eternal.
Thou sittest on high within thy golden house and
measurest out the centuries.
Oh Father of Life! oh dark-dispelling Sun!
He ceased this solemn chant, which, though it seems a poor enough
thing after going through my mill, is really beautiful and impressive
in the original; and then, after a moment's pause, he glanced up
towards the funnel-sloped opening in the dome and added --
Oh Sun, descend upon thine Altar!
As he spoke a wonderful and a beautiful thing happened.
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