Those who were with Amer noticed how full of love and patience he now was: how the enemy, Irritability, which had so often given him a blow on his lips, was silent: how he never judged unkindly or spoke ill of people, but like his Master and King was filled with a consuming pity for them.
But if his friends had had eyes to see, they would have been aware of a crowd of evil spirits on the watch for him, who would surely have worked him ill had he not been in such constant communion with his King. As it was they could never get near him, for the Presence of his King was around him like a wall of fire, and a shadow of a Cross enveloped him.
Amer remembered at times his question to the Ambassador when he had started on his journey, as to whether it was the lot of every soldier to be harried at the end, as was Heman the Brave; and every now and then, when for a moment he lost sight of his King, Fear crept up, hoping to gain possession of him; but so used was he now to confide his thoughts to his King, that Fear could get no more than a sudden look at the man he hoped to conquer. Indeed, the enemies that had crowded so hopefully around him when they were aware of how near Amer was to crossing the River, had to be content with looking at him from a distance, and gradually, as they noticed that the nearer he drew to the River, the brighter and more peaceful grew the expression of his face, they lost hope.
Then it was, that while in the act of cheering a fellow pilgrim, Amer heard his name called, and, with the light of the Radiant City on his brow and his King's name on his lips, he plunged without fear into the cold waters to fall at the feet of his King.
Then Chisleu and Iddo, who had seen his passing, burst into a triumphant song:
"The saints of God, their conflict past,
And life's long battle won at last,
No more they need the shield or sword,
They cast them down before their Lord:
Oh happy saints, for ever blessed,