I went back. I saw that the affected part had swollen up to the size of an apple; it was hard as stone, in constant motion, twisting, and coiling about itself like a snake. I placed my hand upon it; I turned toward God and, humbly beseeching Him, I repeated the words, “O Thou the Healer!” Instantly the sick man rose up. The ileus vanished; the swelling was carried off.

This personified spirit lived contentedly in ‘Iráq until the day when Bahá’u’lláh’s convoy wended its way out of Baghdád. As bidden, Ṣádiq remained behind in that city. But his longing beat so passionately within him that after the arrival of Bahá’u’lláh at Mosul, he could endure the separation no more. Shoeless, hatless, he ran out alongside the courier going to Mosul; ran and ran until, on that barren plain, with mercy all about him, he fell to his rest.

May God give him to drink from “a wine cup tempered at the camphor fountain,”2 and send down crystal waters on his grave; may God perfume his dust in that desert place with musk, and cause to descend there range on range of light.