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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"Allan and the Holy Flower"

And now from the pulsing heart
of the Glory, which somehow reminded me of moving lips, fell countless
flakes of snow, each of which followed an appointed path till it lit
upon the forehead of one of the tiny, imploring figures hidden within
those savage breasts, and made it white and clean.
Then the Glory shrank and faded till there remained of it only the
similitude of two transparent hands stretched out as though in
blessing--and I woke up wondering how on earth I found the fancy to
invent such a vision, and whether it meant anything or nothing.
Afterwards I repeated it to Brother John, who was a very spiritually
minded as well as a good man--the two things are often quite different
--and asked him to be kind enough to explain. At the time he shook his
head, but some days later he said to me:
"I think I have read your riddle, Allan; the answer came to me quite
of a sudden. In all those sin-stained hearts there is a seed of good
and an aspiration towards the right. For every one of them also there
is at last mercy and forgiveness, since how could they learn who never
had a teacher? Your dream, Allan, was one of the ultimate redemption
of even the most evil of mankind, by gift of the Grace that shall one
day glow through the blackness of the night in which they wander.


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