On their top I could dimly discern what seemed three or four great steps of a stair, disappearing in a cloud white as snow; and above the steps I saw, but with my mind's eye only, as it were a grand old chair, the throne of the Ancient of Days.

Over and under and between those steps issued, plenteously, unceasingly new-born, the river of the water of life.
The great angel could guide us no farther: those rocks we must ascend alone! My heart beating with hope and desire, I held faster the hand of my Lona, and we began to climb; but soon we let each other go, to use hands as well as feet in the toilsome ascent of the huge stones.

At length we drew near the cloud, which hung down the steps like the borders of a garment, passed through the fringe, and entered the deep folds.

A hand, warm and strong, laid hold of mine, and drew me to a little door with a golden lock.

The door opened; the hand let mine go, and pushed me gently through.