"Patience, dear son. Have I not pleaded with My Father, 'Lord, Lord, I came not to earth, that these great cathedrals be reared, nor that superbly robed priests genuflect before My image'?
"Nevertheless, I have faith that surely the time will come when the hearts of the people are ripe for the knowledge of Me. If the Lord hath seen to it that the seeds of the flowers are blown by the winds of heaven at the appointed time and scattered into the fields that await their coming, surely He will see that My words yet fall on fertile soil."
Annys sprang to his feet, and gazing into the face of the Christ, cried ecstatically:—
"But is the appointed time now come? Am I the one to scatter the seed and cause it to fall upon the right soil? Oh, vouchsafe me a sign, a sign, dear Lord, to show me the way."
For answer, softly there crept into the shadowed apse the faint sound of voices, as of many men chanting a hymn, but far, far away. Slowly it gathered in strength until it touched the walls of the great church and made them speak, ever growing stronger and stronger until at last the words could be distinguished, and the whole vast interior rang with the refrain:—
"Jack Miller asketh help to turn his mill aright.
He hath grounded small, small, small:
The King's Son of Heaven He shall pay for all.
Look thy mill go aright with the four sails,
And the post stand with steadfastness."