AND THE MAN. 187

 

to do good to thy fellow-man? Is the bird
on the tree, the beast in his lair, the worm
that crawls upon the earth, thy fellow?
Not by prayer, not by meditation, not by
penance, is man purified; not for these are
his iniquities washed out. ‘Well done,
good and faithful servant.’ These are the
divine words thou hast not yet learned.
Thou callest thyself God’s servant; but
where is thy work? I see it not. Where
are the hungry thou hast fed ?—the naked
thou hast clothed ?—the sick and the pri-
soner who have been visited by thee?
They are not here in the wilderness!”
' The angel departed, and the hermit
awoke. It was midnight. From the bend-
ing heavens beamed down myriads of
beautiful stars. The dark and solemn
woods were still as death, and there was
no sound on the air save the clear music
of the singing rill, as it went on happily
with its work, even in the darkness.
“Where is my work?” murmured the
hermit, as he stood with his hot brow un-