“要不是你留下来，我准是逃走了!”这就是异象所说的。独自一人在房间里，跪在石头地板上，为自己优柔寡断的罪过祈祷，祈祷在诱惑和考验中更大的自我克制;此时是正午，和尚孤身一人。突然间，仿佛放光了，一种不同寻常的光辉照亮了他体内和体外的一切，在那狭窄的石头牢房里;他看见了我们主的祝福异象，那极乐之光像一件外衣裹在他身上，像一件外衣披在他身上。没有被钉死在十字架上，没有痛苦的折磨，没有流血的手和脚，他的师父看见了;耶稣在加利利行走的时候、就像在乡村的街上、在房屋里、在收割的田里、医治了瘸腿瞎眼的人一样。以一种恳求的姿态，双手交叉在胸前，好奇，崇拜，崇拜，和尚欣喜若狂地跪着。主啊，他想，在天上掌权，我是谁，你竟如此屈尊向我显现? Who am I, that from the centre Of thy glory thou shouldst enter This poor cell, my guest to be? Then amid his exaltation, Loud the convent bell appalling, From its belfry calling, calling, Rang through court and corridor With persistent iteration He had never heard before. It was now the appointed hour When alike in shine or shower, Winter's cold or summer's heat, To the convent portals came All the blind and halt and lame, All the beggars of the street, For their daily dole of food Dealt them by the brotherhood; And their almoner was he Who upon his bended knee, Rapt in silent ecstasy Of divinest self-surrender, Saw the Vision and the Splendor. Deep distress and hesitation Mingled with his adoration;_ Should he go, or should he stay? Should he leave the poor to wait Hungry at the convent gate, Till the Vision passed away? Should he slight his radiant guest, Slight this visitant celestial, For a crowd of ragged, bestial Beggars at the convent gate? Would the Vision there remain? Would the Vision come again? Then a voice within his breast Whispered, audible and clear As if to the outward ear: 'Do thy duty; that is best; Leave unto thy Lord the rest!' Straightway to his feet he started, And with longing look intent On the Blessed Vision bent, Slowly from his cell departed, Slowly on his errand went. At the gate the poor were waiting, Looking through the iron grating,_ With that terror in the eye That is only seen in those Who amid their wants and woes Hear the sound of doors that close, And of feet that pass them by; Grown familiar with disfavor, Grown familiar with the savor Of the bread by which men die! But to-day, they knew not why, Like the gate of Paradise Seemed the convent sate to rise, Like a sacrament divine Seemed to them the bread and wine. In his heart the Monk was praying, Thinking of the homeless poor, What they suffer and endure; What we see not, what we see; And the inward voice was saying: 'Whatsoever thing thou doest To the least of mine and lowest, That thou doest unto me!' Unto me! but had the Vision Come to him in beggar's clothing, Come a mendicant imploring, Would he then have knelt adoring, Or have listened with derision, And have turned away with loathing. Thus his conscience put the question, Full of troublesome suggestion, As at length, with hurried pace, Towards his cell he turned his face, And beheld the convent bright With a supernatural light, Like a luminous cloud expanding Over floor and wall and ceiling. But he paused with awe-struck feeling At the threshold of his door, For the Vision still was standing As he left it there before, When the convent bell appalling, From its belfry calling, calling, Summoned him to feed the poor. Through the long hour intervening It had waited his return, And he felt his bosom burn, Comprehending all the meaning, When the Blessed Vision said, 'Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled!'