alls. When he
turned them up towards the heaven, if they could not yet discern that,
they could get a glimpse of the earth! So he said within himself,
"Surely we are in the right way; we shall yet come to the Beautiful
Gate, and I shall have my sight again. Then will I hasten to my
father's house, and when all is forgiven me, I will say to my mother,
Receive this child I bring thee for a daughter, for she has been my
guide through a weary way; and I know that my mother will love my little
sister Grace."

"And what then?" asked a voice in Tiny's soul, "_What_ then wilt thou
do?"

"Labour till I die!" exclaimed Tiny aloud, with flashing eyes.

"But for what, Poet, wilt thou labour?"

"FOR THE POOR WORLD THAT NEEDS ME," bravely cried he with a mighty
voice.

"Ah," whispered something faintly in his ear, with a taunting voice that
pierced his heart like a sharp sword--"Ah, you said that once before;
and fine work you made of it!"

Tiny made no answer to this taunt, with words, but with all the strength
of his great poet mind he cried again, "For the poor world that needs
me!" and the vow was registered in Heaven, and angels were sent to
strengthen him in that determination--him who was to sing the New Song
to the Lord.

A long way further Grace and Tiny walked together on their journey; they
walked in silence, thinking so fast that, without knowing it, they were
almost on a run in the attempt their feet were making to keep pace with
their thoughts. At length Grace broke the silence with a sudden cry--

"Oh, Tiny! what is this?"

Tiny looked up at the sound of her voice, and then he stood stock still
as if he were turned to stone.

"Oh, Tiny! can you see?" again exclaimed Grace, who was watching her
companion's face in a great wonder; it became so changed all at once.
"Oh, Tiny, Tiny, can you see?" she cried again, in terror, for he did
not answer her, but grew paler and paler, swaying to and fro like a reed
in the wind, until he fell like one dead upon the ground, saying--"My
home! my home! and the Beautiful Gate is here!"

Just then an old man came slowly from the forest, near to which they had
come in their journey. His head was bent, he moved slowly like one in
troubled thought, and as he walked he said to himself, "Long have I
toiled, bringing these forest trees into this shape; and people know
what I have done--of their own free will they call it a Beautiful Gate.
But oh, if I could only find the bl