O true servant of God! Gird up thy loins, set firm thy steps, exert a mighty effort, and enter the plane of sacrifice. Be swift in the path of God and seek an abode loftier than the heavens. The fleet-footed charger is at the ready, the vast arena is beckoning, the ball of good fortune is in play, and the mallet of divine confirmation is at hand. It is time to spur on thy steed and carry away the prize from the field of play. “I do as bidden and bring the message.”1 Make haste, make haste, for time is short and the minstrel’s melody is nearing its end. If, at this feast, thou dost not clap thy hands, beat the drum, lift up thy voice, and sing out the songs of joy, when wilt thou then know blissful rapture and heavenly intoxication?