Who serve Him wear His armour day and night: The maiden, nay, the child, must wield the sword; Yet none may hate his neighbour. Thus he spake, That Prophet from far regions: "Wherefore wreck Thy brother man? upon his innocent babes Drag down the ruinous roof? Seek manlier tasks! The death in battle is the easiest death: Be yours the daily dying; lifelong death; Death of the body that the soul may live:-- War on the Spirits unnumbered and accurst Which, rulers of the darkness of this world, Drive, hour by hour, their lances through man's soul That wits not of the wounding!"' Heida turned A keen eye on the King: 'Whence came your guest? Not from those sun-bright southern shores, I ween?' He answered, 'Nay, from western isle remote That Prophet came.' Then Heida's countenance fell: 'The West! the West! it should have been the East! Conclude your tale: what saith your guest of God?' The King replied: 'His God so loved mankind That, God remaining, he became a man; So hated sin that, sin to slay, He died. One tear of His had paid the dreadful debt:-- Not so He willed it: thus He willed, to wake In man, His lost one, quenchless hate of sin, Proportioned to the death-pang of a God; Nor chose He lonely majesty of death: 'Twixt sinners paired He died.' In Heida's eye Trembled a tear. 'A dream was mine in youth, When first the rose of girlhood warmed my cheek, A dream of some great Sacrifice that claimed Not praise--not praise--it only yearned to die Helping the Loved. A maid alone, I thought, Such sacrifice could offer.' As she spake, She pressed upon the pale cheek, warmed once more, Her cold, thin hand a moment. 'Maiden-born Was He, my guest revealed,' the King replied: 'Then from that Angel's "Hail," and her response, "So be it unto me," when sinless doubt Vanished in world-renewing, free consent, He told the tale;--the Infant in the crib; The shepherds o'er him bowed;' (with widening eyes Heida, bent forward, saw like them that Child) 'The Star that led the Magians from the East----' 'The East, the East! It should have been the East!' Once more she cried; 'our race is from the East: The Persian worshipped t'ward the rising sun: You said, but now, the West.' The King resumed: 'God's priest was from the West; but in the East The great Deliverer sprang.' Next, step by step, Like herald panting forth in leaguered town Tidings unhoped for of deliverance strange Through victory on some battle field remote, The King rehearsed his theme, from that first Word, 'The Woman's Seed shall bruise the Serpent's head,' Prime Gospel, ne'er forgotten in the East, To Calvary's Cross, the Resurrection morn,