"Extinguishing the fire, we laid on our hands and asked, “Whither shall we go further?” Came the answer, “Nearer than the nearest. Lower than the lowest. Higher than the highest.” Not understanding the meaning we besought a Command, but we were told, “Let the ears hearken.” And we sat in the darkness in silence. And we heard how somewhere beyond the wall a child had begun to cry. We began to mark the direction of the cry and we heard the Mother’s song so often heard in the homes of husbandmen: “Let people count thee a plower, but I know, my son, thou art a king. Who, save thee, shall raise the best seed, the most fruitful. The Lord shall call my little one and say, ‘Thy seed alone hast glorified My feast. Sit with Me, king of the worthiest seeds.’ ”"