Chapter 54

UTE _and the Chaplain come forward_.

CHAPLAIN.

There is no image of it in this world! You strive to liken it and comprehend, Yet here all signs and measures too must fail. But kneel before the Lord in fervent prayer, And when contrition and humility Have made you lose yourself, you may be drawn, A moment only, as the lightning flash Does tarry upon earth, to heavenly heights.

UTE.

And can that happen?

CHAPLAIN.

Stephen, blessed saint, Saw, when the furious horde of angry Jews Were stoning him, the gates of paradise Standing ajar, and he rejoiced and sang. His suffering body only they destroyed, But 'twas to him as if the murderous band That thought to kill him in their fury blind Could only rend the garment he had doffed.

UTE (_to_ KRIEMHILD _who has joined them_).

Take heed, Kriemhild!

KRIEMHILD.

I do.

CHAPLAIN.

That was the power Of faith; And ye must also learn the curse Of unbelief. Saint Peter, who has charge Of sword and keys of our most holy church, Loved and instructed in the faith a youth, And brought him up. One day upon a rock The youth was standing, and the stormy sea Around him surged in fury. Then he thought Of how his Lord and Master left the ship, And trustingly obeyed the slightest sign The Saviour gave, and walked upon the deep That tossed and threatened him with certain death. A dizziness came o'er him at the thought Of such a trial, for the wonder seemed Beyond the bounds of reason, then he caught A corner of the rock and clung to it, Crying aloud: All, all, yet spare me this! Then breathed the Lord, and suddenly the stone Began to melt away. He sank and sank, And lost all hope, until for very fear He sprang from off the rock into the flood. The breath of the Eternal stilled the sea, And made it solid and it bore him up, As kindly earth bears up both ye and me. Repentantly he said: Thy will be done!

UTE.

In all eternity!

KRIEMHILD.

My Father, pray That He who changes water and firm rock, Will shield my Siegfried. For each sep'rate year Of happy life vouchsafed me by his side An altar will I build unto a saint.

[_Exit_ KRIEMHILD.]

CHAPLAIN.

The miracle astounds thee. Let me tell The tale of how I won my friar's cowl. The Angles are my kin, a heathen folk, And as a heathen was I born and reared, And turbulent I was; at fifteen years The sword was girded on me. Then appeared The Lord's first messenger among my tribe. They scorned him and despised him, and at last They slew him. Queen, I stood and saw it all, And, driven by the others, gave to him With this right hand I nevermore shall use, Although the arm's not helpless as you think, The final blow. But then I heard him pray. He prayed for me, and his pure soul expired With the Amen. The heart within my breast Was changed from that time forth. I threw my sword Upon the ground, and put his garment on And went to preach the Gospel of the Cross.

UTE.

Here comes my son! Oh, couldst thou bring again To this distracted land the peace we've lost So utterly!

[_Exeunt_.]