There was before me a gate.  Between the pillars a shadowy indistinct figure stood.

            “Come,” he said and smiled.  I knew who spoke.

            “I am Eve, Lord, and within me is the knowledge from

            "The apple  that I ate.  With me must this enter if I come.”

Then came a mighty clang as though a great iron door had slammed.  Before the gateway I could now see a tall cross standing.

            “Where are you, Lord?  Why have you forsaken me?”

            “I am here” came the voice, close and warm.

            “Here is the Tree from which your apple came. 

            "At its root the entrance lies. 

            "The road of sacrifice must be your way.”

            “Lord, what must I sacrifice?” I cried. 

            “Not Adam.  He is my breath.  He is my bone. 

            "Nor the children, my flesh and blood. 

            "Lord, I cannot give them up. 

            "Nor can I leave my brothers and sisters.  Never a one. 

            "Nor the dog by the hearth.  The robin in the tree.

            "These I cannot give up."

Then in the stillness, as I clung to his feet, the quiet words came:

            “Only your Self must you leave behind.”

                                                                                                January 1963