When in the eyes of thy beloved riches count not, gold and dust are as one to thee. Thou sayest that she dwelleth in thine eyes—if they be closed, she is in thy mind. If she demand thy life, thou dost place it in her hand; if she place a sword upon thy head, thou holdest it forward. When earthly love produces such confusion and such obedience demands, dost thou wonder if travellers of the road of God remain engulfed in the Ocean of Reality? In the remembrance of their Friend they have turned their backs upon the world; they are so fascinated by the Cup-bearer that they have spilled the wine. No medicine can cure them, for no one has knowledge of their pains. With their cries of longing do they root up a mountain; with their sighs they dismember a kingdom. Such is their weeping at dawn that the tears wash the collyrium of sleep from their eyes. Night and day are they immersed in the sea of love; so distracted are they that they know not night from day. So enamoured are they of the beauty of the Painter that they care not for the beauty of His designs. He drinks of the pure wine of Unity who is forgetful of both this world and the next. STORY OF A DANCER I have heard that, at the singing of a musician, one of fairy-face began to dance. Surrounded by distracted hearts, the flame of a candle caught her skirt. She was distressed and angered. One of her lovers said, “Why agitate thyself? The fire has burned thy skirts—it[19] has entirely consumed the harvest of my life.” STORY ILLUSTRATING THE REALITY OF LOVE One who loved God set his face towards the desert. His father, being grieved at his absence, neither ate nor slept. Some one admonished the son, who said: “Since my Friend has claimed me as His own, no other friendship do I own. When He revealed to me His beauty, all else that I saw appeared unreal.” They that love Him care for no one else; their senses are confused and their ears are deaf to the words of them that reproach. They wander through the desert of Divine Knowledge without a caravan. They have no hope of approbation from their fellow-men, for they are the chosen of the elect of God. STORY ILLUSTRATIVE OF PATIENCE An old man begged at the door of a mosque. Some one said to him: “This is not the place to beg; stand not here with impudence.” “What house is this,” the man inquired, “from which no pity comes upon the condition of the poor?” “Silence!” was the reply. “What foolish words are these? This is the house of our Master!” The beggar raised a cry: “Alas,” he said, “that I should be disappointed at this door. I have not gone hopeless from any street; why should I go thus from the door of God? Here will I stretch forth my hand of want, for I know that I shall not depart empty-handed.”