Time was as nothing to these heavenly watchers: but they knew how long and terrible were the moments to those upon the way. Sometimes there would be silence like the silence of long years: and fear came upon them that the wayfarer had turned back, or that he had fallen and lay suffering at the bottom of some gulf, or had been swept by the wind upon some icy peak and dashed against the rocks. Then anon, while they listened and held their breath, a little sound would strike again into the silence, bringing back hope. And again and again all would be still. The little pilgrim held her companion’s hand, and the thought went through her mind that were she watching for one whom she loved above the rest, her heart would fail. But the watcher answered her as if she had spoken, and said, ‘Oh no, oh no; for if it is not he, it is a brother: and the Lord give them joy!’ But they sang no more, their hearts being faint with suspense and with eagerness to hear every sound. Then in the great chill of the silence, suddenly, and not far off, came the sound of one who spoke. He murmured to himself, and said, ‘Who can continue on this terrible way? The night is black like hell, and there comes no morning. It was better in the land of darkness, for still we could see the face of man, though not God.’ The muffled voice shook at that word and then was still suddenly, as though it had been a flame and the wind had blown it out. And for a moment there was silence: until suddenly it broke forth once more-- ‘What is this that has come to me that I can say the name of God? It tortures no longer, it is as balm. But He is far off and hears nothing. He called us and we answered not. Now it is we who call and He will not hear. I will lie down and die. It cannot be that a man must live and live for ever, in pain and anguish. Here will I lie and it will end. Oh Thou whose face I have seen in the night, make it possible for a man to die.’