The fifth number, added, as we have said, after the work was first finished, and not essential to its conception as a whole, may have been conceded to some need of contrast felt by the composer on hearing the completed six movements consecutively. It consists of a very beautiful soprano solo with chorus, of rather mystic character, to the words '_And ye now are sorrowful. As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you._' The sixth chorus opens with a dirge--'_For we have no abiding city, but we seek one to come_'--soon to be interrupted by the baritone solo: '_Behold, I shew you a mystery: we shall not all sleep, but we shall be changed._' The words are repeated by the chorus with a heightening agitation of mysterious expectancy, that leaps suddenly at the clarion call to tumultuous exultation: '_In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed._' The wild agitation is stayed by the quiet message of the solo, '_Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written_,' and a prolonged half-cadence leads to the re-entry of the chorus in a magnificently-sustained inspiration of triumphant joy: '_Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?_' The glorious movement, after mounting from height to height of power and splendour, suddenly, with an unexpected change of time and key, reaches its climax in a brilliant fugue, that seems, with its passion of never-ending praise, to reopen the door of heaven and to transport the soul of the hearer to the dazzling scene of the throne that is filled with the ineffable presence of God: '_Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive honour and power, for thou hast created all things, and for thy good pleasure they are and were created._' The great work has now reached its final climax. The imagination of the modern seer, soaring beyond sorrow, doubt, death, has pierced for a moment through the mystery of things and shown us the unspeakable. But the vision is not yet at an end. As in the writing of the Revelation of St. John, so in the inspired music of the German Requiem. After the lightnings and thunders and all the manifold glory of the throne, the voice of the spirit: '_Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord henceforth; Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours, and their works do follow them._' Confident, tender, majestic, the message floats through the seventh movement, a veritable requiem, a true song of peace, and, heard at length in the tones of the benediction with which the work opens, sinks into silence with reiteration of blessing.