“But you said that there is a prophecy of the second Advent also,” cried Io. “If you can remember it, pray repeat it.”
“The ancient prophet bursts into a triumphant song which has a true Advent ring about it,” said the chaplain; and with animation he repeated a translation of the Karen poem:—
“God comes down, comes down,
God descends, descends;
He comes—blowing a trumpet:
Blowing He gathers men, like the flowers of the areca,
Sounding He gathers people, like the flowers of the areca;
The glittering, the angels of Heaven,
The dazzling, the angels of Heaven,
The great trumpet that God comes blowing,