Page 171 - a-portrait-of-the-artist-as-a-young-man
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TO US OF THE ETERNAL NOT LIKE EARTHLY BEAU-
         TY,  DANGEROUS  TO  LOOK  UPON,  BUT  LIKE  THE
         MORNING STAR WHICH IS THY EMBLEM, BRIGHT
         AND  MUSICAL,  BREATHING  PURITY,  TELLING  OF
         HEAVEN AND INFUSING PEACE. O HARBINGER OF
         DAY! O LIGHT OF THE PILGRIM! LEAD US STILL AS
         THOU HAST LED. IN THE DARK NIGHT, ACROSS THE
         BLEAK  WILDERNESS  GUIDE  US  ON  TO  OUR  LORD
         JESUS, GUIDE US HOME.
            His eyes were dimmed with tears and, looking humbly
         up to heaven, he wept for the innocence he had lost.
            When evening had fallen he left the house, and the first
         touch of the damp dark air and the noise of the door as it
         closed behind him made ache again his conscience, lulled
         by prayer and tears. Confess! Confess! It was not enough
         to lull the conscience with a tear and a prayer. He had to
         kneel before the minister of the Holy Ghost and tell over
         his hidden sins truly and repentantly. Before he heard again
         the footboard of the housedoor trail over the threshold as
         it opened to let him in, before he saw again the table in the
         kitchen set for supper he would have knelt and confessed. It
         was quite simple.
            The  ache  of  conscience  ceased  and  he  walked  onward
         swiftly through the dark streets. There were so many flag-
         stones on the footpath of that street and so many streets in
         that city and so many cities in the world. Yet eternity had
         no end. He was in mortal sin. Even once was a mortal sin.
         It could happen in an instant. But how so quickly? By see-
         ing or by thinking of seeing. The eyes see the thing, without

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