Widens around thee in an aureole;
From lifted eyes, loose hair, and hands unlocked,
Gushes the even glory! While I look,
So bright, thou seraph of the golden blood,
Rains that pure fire on me, that now I know
Of what clear essence thou, not less am I;
Yea, I with thee, and all my thoughts with thine,
Run up before our God in one straight flame.
Child, I am here to help thee: Didymus,
A Cappadocian.