"Give also light," he said, "that I may see beyond the portal!"
But the sound of his own voice was strange in the land of dreams, and with that he awoke. It was evening, and he arose and looked at the silent and frowning cliff, and even passed his hand over its face to convince himself that he was still awake. A significance attached itself to his dream, and he pondered it long and wisely. The teachings of the founder of his Faith came into his mind, and the lesson of his vision seemed plain. He resolved to trust the conduct of his steps to an unseen Guidance, and reverently owned that a Benign Presence had watched his slumbers. As he reflected, a belief grew that this massive rock marked not only a halting place in his journey, but a chief interval in his life.
"The way," he said, "is very long. Of what use but to mislead in that course is my bodily sight, which bids me doubt the reality of all the higher truths which my inner consciousness affirms?"
The stars were coming out, and looking upward he remembered his childhood's hope that beyond their radiant ranks was the Home of Spirits, and thus he prayed:
"Father of Lights, these lesser beacons hide,
My way is long, this desert plain is wide,
Darken mine eyes so I behold my guide.
The way is long, it leads among the stars.
How should I roam that shimmering vault of night?
How halt where yon bright orb his lamp uprears