'Return, Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold!
Return to them that worship thee of old!'"
The chorus ceased, and once again she sang:
"Within the court divine The Sevenfold sacred shrine We pass, while echoes of the Temple walls Repeat the long lament The sound of sorrow sent Far up within the imperishable halls, Where, each in the other's arms, the Sisters weep, Isis and Nephthys, o'er His unawaking sleep."
And then again rolled forth the solemn chorus of a thousand voices:
"Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold;
Soft on the Dead that liveth are we calling:
'Return, Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold!
Return to them that worship thee of old!'"
It ceased, and sweetly she took up the song:
"O dweller in the West, Lover and Lordliest, Thy love, thy Sister Isis, calls thee home!
Come from thy chamber dun Thou Master of the Sun, Thy shadowy chamber far below the foam!
With weary wings and spent Through all the firmament, Through all the horror-haunted ways of Hell, I seek thee near and far, From star to wandering star, Free with the dead that in Amenti dwell.
I search the height, the deep, the lands, the skies, Rise from the dead and live, our Lord Osiris, rise!"
"Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold;
Soft on the Dead that liveth are we calling:
'Return, Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold!
Return to them that worship thee of old!'"
Now in a strain more high and glad the singer sang:
"He wakes--from forth the prison We sing Osiris risen, We sing the child that Nout conceived and bare.
Thine own love, Isis, waits The Warden of the Gates, She breathes the breath of Life on breast and hair, And in her breast and breath Behold! he waketh, Behold! at length he riseth out of rest;
Touched with her holy hands, The Lord of all the Lands, He stirs, he rises from her breath, her breast!
But thou, fell Typhon, fly, The judgment day drawn nigh, Fleet on thy track as flame speeds Horus from the sky."
"Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold;
Soft on the Dead that liveth are we calling:
'Return, Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold!
Return to them that worship thee of old!'"
Once more, as we bowed before the Holy, she sang, and sent the full breath of her glad music ringing up the everlasting walls till the silence quivered with her round notes of melody, and the hearts of those who hearkened stirred strangely in the breast. And thus, as we walked, she sang the song of Osiris risen, the song of Hope, the song of Victory:
"Sing we the Trinity, Sing we the Holy Three, Sing we, and praise we and worship the Throne, Throne that our Lord hath set--There peace and truth are met There in the Halls of the Holy alone!
There in the shadowings Faint of the folded wings, There shall we dwell and rejoice in our rest, We that thy servants are!
Horus drive ill afar!
Far in the folds of the dark of the West!"
Again, as her notes died away, thundered forth the chorus of all the voices:
"Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold;
Soft on the Dead that liveth are we calling:
'Return, Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold!
Return to them that worship thee of old!'"
The chanting ceased, and as the sun sank the High Priest raised the statue of the living God and held it before the multitude that was now gathered in the court of the temple. Then, with a mighty and joyful shout of: