The voice, descending, reached Earth.
"Eva!"
"Lord," she cried, "behold thine handmaid!"
She had her religion—all tribes held some creed.
"I come—a Comforter!"
"Lord, come quickly!"
The Evening flushed full of hope; the Air panted; the Moon—rising before—ascended large, but her light showed no shape.
"Lean towards me, Eva. Enter my arms; repose thus."
"Thus I lean, O Invisible but felt! And what art thou?"
"Eva, I have brought a living draught from heaven. Daughter of Man, drink of my cup!"