It is Passion, Gideon, that carries man to God,
and passion is a balky beast.
Few men ever let it out of the stable.
It brooks no bridle;
indeed it bridles you;
it rides the rider.
Yet, it inspirits man’s sensile soul
above his own inadequate world
and makes real such things as beauty, fancy, love, and God
and all those other things that are not quite molecular but are.
is the very
fact of God
that makes him other than a brute.
I must own, Gideon, yours was an old and settled soul and I huffed and puffed quite a bit before I found the least flame of passion in you.
GIDEON: What is it you love in me, my Lord? These other men were all saints or prophets, but I am an ordinary sort. I am as all men are.
THE ANGEL: Well perhaps that is your special attraction your ordinariness. I would have plain men love me, not just saints.