myself about to die I called out to my Father, who answered my call at
once, bringing Joseph of Arimathea to the foot of the cross to ask the
centurion for my body for burial. But the centurion could not deliver me
unto him without Pilate's order, and both went to Pilate, and he gave me
to Joseph for burial.

Nor did our Father allow the swoon to be lifted till Joseph entered the
tomb to kiss me for the last time. It was then he opened my eyes and I
saw Joseph standing by me, a lantern in his hand, looking at me ... for
the last time before closing the tomb.

He lifted me on to his shoulder and carried me up a little twisting path
to his house, and an old woman, named Esora, attended to my wounds with
balsam, and when they were cured Joseph began to tell me that my stay in
his house was dangerous to him and to me, and he vaunted to me in turn
Caesarea and Antioch as cities in which I should be safe from the Jews.
But my mind was so weak and shaken that his reasons faded from my mind
and I sat smiling at the sunlight like one bereft of sense. Strive as he
might, he could not awaken me from the lethargy in which I was sunken,
and every day and every week increased his danger and mine; and it was
not till the news came that my old comrades had come to live in the
Brook Kerith that my mind began to awaken and to move towards a
resolution; an outline began to appear, when I said, I have led my sheep
over the hills yonder many a time, and tempted me to speak of you till
the desire arose in me to see you again. You remember our arrival one
morning at daybreak and my eagerness to see the flock.

Brother Amos was glad to see me back again, and in talking of the flock
Joseph was almost forgotten, which shows how wandering my mind was at
the time.... He left without seeing me, but not without warning Hazael
not to question me else my mind might yield to the strain, saying that
it hung on a thread, which was true, and I remember how for many a year
every cliff's edge tempted me to jump over. Joseph was gone for ever,
and the memory of my sins were as tongues of flame that leaped by turns
out of the ashes. But the fiercest ashes grow cold in time; we turn them
over without fear of flame, and last night I said to Hazael as we sat
together, there is a sin in my life that none knows of, it is buried
fathoms deep out of all sight of men, and Hazael having said there was
little of the world's time in front of him, I felt suddenly I co