"And all men are sinners," continued the angel. "The highest and holiest of human works are but as the shrivelling leaves worn by the father of mankind; and they have the slime of the serpent upon them. The sins of mortals are numerous as the hairs of their heads. How then can man stand justified before a pure and holy God?"
"We offer sacrifices, burnt offerings, and oblations," said David, his eyes still fixed on the visionary form on the Cross; for even the angel's presence and words could not draw his rapt attention from the pale face, crowned with thorns, from which slowly trickled the blood-drops.
"All your sacrifices are shadows—types—pictures," said the white-winged messenger of God. "Not the blood of thousands of bullocks, nor that of all the lambs in Judea, could wash out the stain of a single sin. It needs something infinitely more precious to redeem one guilty soul."
"Wouldst thou bid me despair?" cried the king; cold drops of agony starting from his brow—whilst still, he gazed on One on the Cross.
"There is but one means of salvation," said the angel. "The price of a world's redemption must be the blood—the sacrifice of One body, perfect, divine. He of whom thou hast wonderingly written, 'The Lord hath said unto Me, Thou art My Son!' He who sitteth at God's right hand—He alone can offer that sacrifice; be that Sacrifice; and become the Saviour of the world. Down on thy knees, O David; lay thy brow in the dust: implore the Son of God to leave His throne in Heaven; to be born a feeble baby; to consent to be scourged and crucified; to become a Victim for thy sake—even as the Form before thee now. Weep and pray; and if the Lord grant thy prayer, thou mayest be justified and accepted."
"Never could lip crave, nor heart desire such a Sacrifice!" exclaimed David with vehemence. "Shall a worm ask thee, O child of light, to exchange thy radiant form for his, and be trampled under foot for his sake? Thou biddest me offer a presumptuous prayer, such as no mortal dare utter, and to which no immortal would listen."
"If the Holy One die not, thou diest—and for ever!" said the pitying angel.
"Oh, is it so? Is there no redemption for me and my people, save by this!" cried David, raising his clasped hands towards the visionary Cross. "Are we then doomed to perdition? Is there no mercy in Heaven? Have I then cried in blind ignorance?—'The Lord is my Shepherd: I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me!'"
For an instant the eyes of Him who was dying on the Cross met those of David with a look of ineffable love; and the lips of the divine Victim in the vision uttered the words: "The Good Shepherd giveth His life for the sheep."
The prophet-king heard no more, saw no more. He lay prostrate and senseless on the marble floor of his palace. There David remained till the shadows of night enwrapped him, and the silvery moon arose. Startled at his absence at the hour when the board was spread for the evening repast; and at the utter silence in the chamber from which the sound of the harp and the song of praise were wont to be heard—the king's attendants ventured at last to intrude on solitude so prolonged. They were alarmed to find their lord in a swoon.