midnight before
And when at last the real Saviour , the real , mighty Saviour appeared , they did not recognise Him . For He was different from what they had imagined . Shall I try to tell how it happened , just as my mother used to tell me , her little boy , the story on winter evenings ? Shall I recite it to myself like one who desires to wake himself at midnight before the Lord comes ? Shall I , who am without learning , search in my poor confused head for the fragments that have remained in it ? So much has been lost in the wear and tear of the world , and yet since it has grown so dark with me something flashes out , and shines forth on high , like some starry crown in the night ! Shall I invoke the holy figures that they may stand by me through the anguish of my last days , that they may surround me with their glad eternal light , and let no spirit of despair come near me ?