He found it there. And again, he lifted up his voice, this time in a shout of triumph:
"Many a house of life hath held me,
Ever seeking him who wrought this
prison of the senses
Sorrow-fraught, sore was my strife.
But now thou builder of this tabernacle— thou,
I know thee. Never shalt thou build again
these walls of pain.
Nor raise the ridge-pole of deceit,
Nor lay fresh rafters on the beams.
Delusion fashioned thee.
Safe pass I thence, deliverance to obtain."
To be continued.... (Memoirs of Sister Christine)