Covers, and for the girdle of his loins About them belted fast forevermore!'" Stephen felt blindly that the eager ire With which he entered, flaming, on that strain Of awful imprecation from the psalm, Faltered within his heart as he went on-- Insensibly but insupportably Dispirited toward sinking by the lack Of buoying and sustaining sympathy Supplied it from without; as if the lark, Upspringing, on exultant pinion borne, Should, midway in his soaring for the sun, Meet a great gulf of space wherein the air Was spun out thinner than could bear his weight. He ended, halting; and there followed pause, Which ponderable seemed to Stephen, so Did his heart feel the pressure of that pause. At length Paul said, with sweetest irony, That almost earnest seemed, it was so sweet: "Yea, nephew, hast thou, then, already grown Perfect in love, that thou darest hate like that?" It was not asked for answer, Stephen knew, And answer had he none he could have given, No answer, save of silence, much-ashamed. Paul let the searching of himself, begun And busy in the spirit of the youth, Go on in silence for a while; and then In gravest sweet sincerity he spoke: "Hating is sweet and wholesome, for the heart That can hate purely, out of utter love. But who for these things is sufficient--save God only? God is love, and He can hate. But for me, Stephen, mine own proper self, I dare not hate until I better love. When, as I hope, hereafter I shall be Perfect in love, then I may safely hate; Till then, I task myself to love alone." There was such reverence in Paul's gravity, Reverence implied toward him as toward a peer, Not peer in age, but peer in human worth-- Toward him, so young, so heady, and so fond-- That Stephen, in the sting of the rebuke Itself, shaming him, though so gracious, felt A tonic touch that made him more a man. Uplifted, while abashed, he dared to say: "Perhaps I trespassed in my vehemence; But, uncle, did not God inspire the psalm?" "Doubtless, my Stephen," Paul replied; "but not, Not therefore, thee inspire to use the psalm. Sound thine own heart now, nephew, and tell me, Which was it in thy heart that prayed the prayer-- True vehemence in sympathy with God, Or vehemence against thy brother man? A sentiment of sympathy with me Thou canst not say, for I have no such wish As that thou breathedst, touching any man." "Though not in sympathy with thee, at least For thy sake," Stephen said, "mine anger burned."