In Thy beauty, all resplendent,
In Thy glory, all-transcendent;
Well may we rejoice and sing;
Coming:—In the opening East,
Herald brightness slowly swells;
Coming:—O my glorious Priest,
Hear we not Thy golden bells?"
One day in the midst of her singing, Iddo felt her mother, with whom she was walking hand in hand, step forward alone, towards a river running at the foot of the hill, which the girl had not noticed. A sudden panic of apprehension seized her.
"Mother, Mother," she cried: but even as she spoke, her mother turned round with a radiant smile on her face, and, waving farewell to her child stepped into the waters with a song on her lips.
Iddo sank on to the ground, her song silenced.