And to the Presence in the room he said,
“What writest thou?”—The vision raised its head,
And, with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answer’d—“The names of those who love the Lord.”
“And is mine one?” said Abou; “Nay, not so,”
Replied the angel.—Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, “I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.”
The angel wrote, and vanish’d. The next night
It came again, with a great wakening light,