Now God did not put His entire trust in Satan, and in the evening of the day He set to prove him: "It is over."
"My Lord, so be it," answered Satan.
"How now?" asked God.
"The scale of wickedness sways like a kite in the wind," cried Satan. "Give me my robes and I will transgress against you no more."
"In the Book of Heaven and Hell," said God, "there is no writing of the last of the Welsh."
Satan spoke up: "My Lord, your pledge concerned those judged on the Day of Judgment. Day is outing. The windows of the Mansion are lit; hark the angels tuning their golden strings for the cheer of the Resurrection Supper. Give me my robes that I may sing your praises."
"Can I not lengthen the day with a wink of my eye?"
"All things you can do, my Lord, but observe your pledge to me. Allow these people to rest a while longer. Their number together with the number of their sins is fewer than the hairs on Elisha's head."
God laughed in His heart as He replied to Satan: "Tell the Trumpeter to take his horn and the laborers their spades and bring to me the Welsh."
The laborers digged, and at the sound of the horn the dead breathed and heaved. Those whose wit was sharp hurried into neighboring chapels and stole Bibles and hymn-books, with which in their pockets and under their arms they joined the host in Heaven's Courtyard, whence they went into the Waiting Chamber that is without the Judgment Hall.