The Prophet was aware of this egregious sin. The wrath of God descended from high heaven’s welkin. The scribe renounced his office, and his faith at once. Religion’s fiercest foe he stood now, for the nonce. The Prophet questioned him: “Benighted, wretched man! If light there be in thee, whence this thy darkest plan? Hadst thou a fountain of God’s truth been, verily, This turbid stream had never flowed thence, heavily.” Not caring to expose his scribe to all his friends, The Prophet held his peace, to watch th’ adventure’s ends. 10 The scribe’s heart hardened more and more as time rolled on. Repentance he felt not; his pride grew thereupon. He sighed. His sighs were not the signs of contrite heart; But tokens sure that justice made him feel its smart. God caused his pride to weigh more heavy than a chain. How many thus are fettered; none can heal their pain. His blasphemy and pride held him in iron grip; His very sighs he felt constrained to stifle on his lip. He cried: “‘The iron collars they’re compelled to wear;’[353] There’s naught but iron collars; these are all we bear! 15 ‘Behind them is a barrier; but We’ve bound their eyes.’[354] So that they see not what’s before, behind those ties.” The barrier so upreared appears a level plain; He knows not ’tis a bourn that checks him like a chain. Thy witness is a barrier, bars sight of the Lord; Thy teacher is a veil, shuts out God’s holy word. How many infidels, oh! long faith to possess! Their pride, their honour, stands between them and success. That barrier, unseen, ’s than iron firmer still. An axe can hew through iron; not through stubborn will. 20 A bond of iron may be broken by due means; A moral bond is what holds firmest, where it leans. A bee, a wasp, may sting one to the very quick; Yet may the same be warded by precaution’s trick. But what’s to do when sting is in our very selves? The pain is then most biting, deeper far it delves. Unwillingly has leaped this subject from my mind. I fear ’twill leave despair in many, deep behind. Despair thou not; take consolation to thy soul; And cry to that Deliverer who can make thee whole: 25 “Thou Lover of forgiveness! Pardon to me grant! Physician of the soul! Relieve my direful want!”