“Ah, the Prince looks upon us; his Royal Highness has eyes like his father the King,” said the grand courtiers, speaking low, with deep reverence, for one of the little souls had found its home in a peasant’s hut, the other in the palace of a great king.
The little souls never saw one another again until they had spent their time on earth and were flying back to God. Again they were speeding their way through the unmeasured spaces of the stars.
The souls knew each other, remembering the time when they had gone out from God to dwell among men. They gazed with joy at each other, for these returning souls were full of gracious loveliness, such as earthly eyes have not seen.
“Sweet Life, you are no longer a little soul,” said Spirit; “you are strong and beautiful; you must have dwelt in a great house.” “Ay,” replied Life, serenely, “it was a perfect house, for the greatest of builders made it for me.”
“Then it was spacious and lofty and beautiful, and it stood in a high and sunny space?”
“Oh no; it was none of these,” replied Life. “It was narrow and infirm, and it trembled in the blast. No one who saw it desired it. But I loved it because it was the Gift of God, and I was so thankful. It stood in a deep valley, the shadows of the mountains made it dark, and I could not look far away. I could not look down: there was only one way to look, and that was up, and my light came not from this side or that, but straight down from the Father of Lights, and so I was a shining one, though I lived in a dark place.”
“What did you do in your house?”
“Always I toiled and served and suffered and loved, for some needed me who were poorer and weaker than I. Sometimes I was hungry and thirsty and in pain, but oftener I shared my loaf and cup, and helped the pain of others, and I kept the door ajar so that the poor and troubled ones, those who were cast down and ashamed, could come in without knocking and rest in a warm place; and they loved me—the poor, the weak, and the little ones. They are weeping now because my house is empty, and I shall look out of the windows no more: it is cold, the hearth fire can never glow again. But my house was weak and crumbling down upon me. I could stay no longer. So I came away and left it fallen, prone upon the ground—earth to earth.”
“My house,” said the Spirit, “was not like that; it was noble and strong. It stood on high among the kings of the earth, and looked over my broad dominions. My house had towers of strength and halls of bounty and fair gardens with pleasant fruits. Every one who saw it desired it for its beauty and feared it for its strength. It could not be shaken in the rudest blasts, and the shock of war could not make it tremble or force its gates.”