And they shall say, “Praise belongs to God, who has put away sorrow from us.” O chevalier! The worth of the antidote is known by the snake-bitten, the worth of burning fire is known by the moth, the worth of Joseph's shirt is known by grieving Jacob. When someone is de- luded by his own safety and is given the antidote, how will he know its worth? If you want some- one to know the worth and gravity of the antidote, you need him whose spirit has reached his lips. A poor man is needed, broken-hearted, suffering pain, and burdened with grief to know the worth of this caress and the exaltedness of this address: “Praise belongs to God, who has put away sorrow from us.” Wait until tomorrow when that wounded-hearted poor man is placed on the throne of joy in the palisade of holiness while the serving boys and servants act like his slaves to spread the carpet before the seat of his good fortune. The night of tribulation will have come to an end, the sun of felicity will have risen from the horizon of generous giving, and the Exalted Pres- ence will set forth for him the gentle favors of generosity. With the tongue of joy and coquetry he will say, “Praise belongs to God, who has put away sorrow from us.” O indigent man! This world is the world of metaphor. It is clear what realities can be unveiled in the world of metaphor. It is obvious what can be painted on a gnat's wing. This world is a pris- on. What marks of prisoners can be given but sorrow, grief, and longing? For these grief-stricken ones the day of the bazaar and the time of access will be tomorrow, when the concealed gentle- nesses and treasuries stored in the Unseen will come out from the covering of jealousy unscathed by hands and untouched by minds. A vast capacity will be given to the poor ones so that they may drink the wine of vision cup by cup, or rather, ocean by ocean. They will be shouting out, “Is there any more?” [50:30]. And praise belongs to God alone.