The prophet cried against the mountain; come thou hither, that I may speak with thee!
The mountain stirred not. Therefore went the prophet unto the mountain, and spake unto it. But the feet of the prophet were weary, and the mountain heard not his voice.
But I have called unto Thee, and I have journeyed unto Thee, and it availed me not.
I waited patiently, and Thou wast with me from the beginning.
This now I know, O my beloved, and we are stretched at our ease among the vines.
But these thy prophets; they must cry aloud and scourge themselves; they must cross trackless wastes and unfathomed oceans; to await Thee is the end, not the beginning.
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