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with his gray head resting on the young girl's shoulder； and the
blood trickling from the wound。 As she bent over him； fearing
that he was dead； there came a voice through the twilight； very
small and still； like music sounding from a distance； in which
the notes are clear but the words are lost。 The girl turned to
see if some one had spoken from the window above them； but she
saw no one。
Then the old man's lips began to move； as if in answer；
and she heard him say in the Parthian tongue：
〃Not so； my Lord！ For when saw I thee an hungered and fed
thee？ Or thirsty； and gave thee drink？ When saw I thee a
stranger； and took thee in？ Or naked； and clothed thee？ When
saw I thee sick or in prison； and came unto thee？ Three…and
thirty years have I looked for thee； but I have never seen thy
face； nor ministered to thee； my King。〃
He ceased； and the sweet voice came again。 And
again the maid heard it； very faint and far away。 But now it
seemed as though she understood the words：
〃Verily I say unto thee； Inasmuch as thou hast done it
unto one of the least of these my brethren； thou hast done it
unto me。〃
A calm radiance of wonder and joy lighted the pale face of
Artaban like the first ray of dawn； on a snowy mountain…peak。
A long breath of relief exhaled gently from his lips。
His journey was ended。 His treasures were accepted。 The
Other Wise Man had found the King。
A HANDFUL OF CLAY
There was a handful of clay in the bank of a river。 It was
only common clay； coarse and heavy； but it had high thoughts
of its own value； and wonderful dreams of the great place
which it was to fill in the world when the time came for its
virtues to be discovered。
Overhead； in the spring sunshine； the trees whispered
together of the glory which descended upon them when the
delicate blossoms and leaves began to expand； and the forest
glowed with fair； clear colours； as if the dust of thousands
of rubies and emeralds were hanging； in soft clouds； above the
earth。
The flowers； surprised with the joy of beauty； bent their
heads to one another； as the wind caressed them； and said：
〃Sisters； how lovely you have become。 You make the day
bright。〃
The river； glad of new strength and rejoicing in the
unison of all its waters； murmured to the shores in music；
telling of its release from icy fetters； its swift flight from
the snow…clad mountains； and the mighty work to which it was
hurryingthe wheels of many mills to be turned； and great ships
to be floated to the sea。
Waiting blindly in its bed； the clay comforted itself with
lofty hopes。 〃My time will come；〃 it said。 〃I was not made
to be hidden forever。 Glory and beauty and honour are coming
to me in due season。〃
One day the clay felt itself taken from the place where it
had waited so long。 A flat blade of iron passed beneath it；
and lifted it； and tossed it into a cart with other lumps of
clay； and it was carried far away； as it seemed； over a rough
and stony road。 But it was not afraid； nor discouraged； for
it said to itself： 〃This is necessary。 The path to glory is
always rugged。 Now I am on my way to play a great part in the
world。〃
But the hard journey was nothing compared with the
tribulation and distress that came after it。 The clay was put
into a trough and mixed and beaten and stirred and trampled。
It seemed almost unbearable。 But there was consolation in the
thought that something very fine and noble was certainly
coming out of all this trouble。 The clay felt sure that； if
it could only wait long enough； a wonderful reward was in
store for it。
Then it was put upon a swiftly turning wheel； and whirled
around until it seemed as if it must fly into a thousand
pieces。 A strange power pressed it and moulded it； as it
revolved； and through all the dizziness and pain it felt that
it was taking a new form。
Then an unknown hand put it into an oven； and fires were
kindled about itfierce and penetratinghotter than all the
heats of summer that had ever brooded upon the bank of the
river。 But through all； the clay held itself together and
endured its trials； in the confidence of a great future。
〃Surely；〃 it thought； 〃I am intended for something very
splendid； since such pains are taken with me。 Perhaps I am
fashioned for the ornament of a temple； or a precious vase for
the table of a king。〃
At last the baking was finished。 The clay was taken from
the furnace and set down upon a board； in the cool air； under the
blue sky。 The tribulation was passed。 The reward was at hand。
Close beside the board there was a pool of water； not very
deep； nor very clear； but calm enough to reflect； with
impartial truth； every image that fell upon it。 There； for
the first time； as it was lifted from the board； the clay saw
its new shape； the reward of all its patience and pain； the
consummation of its hopesa common flower…pot； straight and
stiff； red and ugly。 And then it felt that it was not
destined for a king's house； nor for a palace of art； because
it was made without glory or beauty or honour； and it murmured
against the unknown maker； saying； 〃Why hast thou made me
thus？〃
Many days it passed in sullen discontent。 Then it was
filled with earth； and somethingit knew not whatbut
something rough and brown and dead…looking； was thrust into
the middle of the earth and covered over。 The clay rebelled
at this new disgrace。 〃This is the worst of all that has
happened to me； to be filled with dirt and rubbish。 Surely I
am a failure。〃
But presently it was set in a greenhouse； where the
sunlight fell warm upon it； and water was sprinkled over it；
and day by day as it waited； a change began to come to it。
Something was stirring within ita new hope。 Still it was
ignorant； and knew not what the new hope meant。
One day the clay was lifted again from its place； and
carried into a great church。 Its dream was coming true after
all。 It had a fine part to play in the world。 Glorious music
flowed over it。 It was surrounded with flowers。 Still it
could not understand。 So it whispered to another vessel of
clay； like itself； close beside it； 〃Why have they set me
here？ Why do all the people look toward us？〃 And the other
vessel answered； 〃Do you not know？ You are carrying a royal
sceptre of lilies。 Their petals are white as snow； and the
heart of them is like pure gold。 The people look this way
because the flower is the most wonderful in the world。 And
the root of it is in your heart。〃
Then the clay was content； and silently thanked its maker；
because； though an earthen vessel； it held so great a
treasure。
THE LOST WORD
〃Come down； Hermas； come down！ The night is past。 It is time
to be stirring。 Christ is born today。 Peace be with you in
His name。 Make haste and come down！〃
A little group of young men were standing in a street of
Antioch； in the dusk of early morning； fifteen hundred years
agoa class of candidates who had nearly finished their years
of training for the Christian church。 They had come to call
their fellow…student Hermas from his lodging。
Their voices rang out cheerily through the cool air。 They
were full of that glad sense of life which the young feel when
they have risen early and come to rouse one who is still
sleeping。 There was a note of friendly triumph in their call；
as if they were exulting unconsciously in having begun the
adventure of the new day before their comrade。
But Hermas was not asleep。 He had been waking for hours；
and the walls of his narrow lodging had been a prison to his
heart。 A nameless sorrow and discontent had fallen upon him； and
he could find no escape from the heaviness of his own thoughts。
There is a sadness of youth into which the old cannot
enter。 It seems unreal and causeless。 But it is even more
bitter and burdensome than the sadness of age。 There is a
sting of resentment in it； a fever of angry surprise that the
world should so soon be a disappointment； and life so early
take on the look of a failure。 It has little reason in it；
perhaps； but it has all the more weariness and gloom； because
the man who is oppressed by it feels dimly that it is an
unnatural thing that he should be tired of living before he
has fairly begun to live。
Hermas had fallen into the very depths of this strange
self…pity。 He was out of tune with everything around him。 He
had been thinking； through the dead night； of all that he had
given up when he left the house of his father； the wealthy
pagan Demetrius； to join the company of the Christians。 Only
two years ago he had been one of the richest young men in
Antioch。 Now he was one of the poorest。 The worst of it was
that； though he had made the choice willingly and with a kind of
enthusiasm； he was already dissatisfied with it。
The new life was no happier than the old。 He was weary of
vigils and fasts； weary of studies and penances； weary of
prayers and sermons。 He felt like a slave in a treadmill。 He
knew that he must go on。 His honour； his conscience； his
sense of duty； bound him。 He could not go back to the old
careless pagan life again； for something had happened within
him which made