e people bow before
the stricken king.

Day dawns. A tucket sounds. Jeremiah, from the perron of the temple,
summons Israel to set out. Let the people fill their eyes with their
fatherland, for the last time! "Drink your fill of the walls, drink your
fill of the towers, drink your fill of Jerusalem!"--They prostrate
themselves, kissing the earth, and lifting a handful to take with them.
Addressing the "wandering people" (Wandervolk), Jeremiah tells them to
arise, to leave the dead who have found peace, to look not backward but
forward, to look out into the distance, to the highways of the world.
These highways are theirs. An impassioned dialogue ensues between the
prophet and his people.

THE PEOPLE. Shall we ever see Jerusalem again?

JEREMIAH. He who believes, looks always on Jerusalem.

THE PEOPLE. Who shall rebuild the city?

JEREMIAH. The ardour of desire, the night of prison, and the suffering
which brings counsel.

THE PEOPLE. Will it endure?

JEREMIAH. Yes. Stones fall, but that which the soul builds in suffering,
endureth for ever.

The trumpet sounds once more. The people are now eager to depart. The
huge procession ranges itself in silence. At the head is the king, borne
in a litter. The tribes follow, singing as they march, with the solemn
joy of sacrifice. There is neither haste nor lagging. An infinite on the
march. As they pass, the Chaldeans gaze at them with astonishment.
Strange folk, whom no one can understand, whether in their dejection or
their exultation!

CHORUS OF JEWS. We move among the nations, we move athwart the ages, by
the unending roads of suffering. For ever and for ever. Eternally we are
vanquished.... But cities fall, nations vanish, oppressors go down into
shame. We move onward, through the eternities, towards our country,
towards God.

THE CHALDEANS. Their God? Have we not conquered him?... Who can conquer
the invisible? Men we can slay, but the God who lives in them we cannot
slay. A nation can be controlled by force; its spirit, never.

For the third time the tucket sounds. The sun, breaking forth, shines on
the procession of God's people, beginning their march athwart the ages.

* * * * *

Thus does a great artist exemplify the supreme liberty of the spirit.
Others have made a frontal attack upon the follies and crimes of to-day.
At grips with the force which wounds them, their bitter words of revolt
bruise themselves against the obst