j'SUNDAY STORIES!
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 OF
 
 
 The rest jeered and laughed at the brave man.
 
 AGATHOS, 
 
 OTHER SUNDAY STORIES 
 
 BY 
 
 SAMUEL WILBERFORCE, D.D., 
 
 Lit! BI8BOP OF WI5CHE8TIE. 
 
 " My speech shall dUtil u the dew, aa the small rain npoa the tender 
 herb." Diur. xxxii. 2. 
 
 " Even a child ia known by hia doings." POT. n. 11. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED EDITIOX. 
 
 8EELEY, JACKSON, AND HALLIDAY, FLEET STREET, 
 LONDON. MDCCCLXXIII.
 
 453 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 MM 
 
 AGATH08, OK THE WHOLE ARMOC R OF GOD 1 
 
 THE HAVENS IN THE FAMINE 17 
 
 THE MAX IX THE DUNGEON 23 
 
 THE CHILDREN AXD THE LION 31 
 
 THE STORM AT SEA o 38 
 
 THE TWO ROADS 50 
 
 THE SPRING MORNING 68 
 
 THE RUNNERS 107 
 
 THE YOUNG SHEPHERD 129 
 
 THB TBST ON THE PLAIN HOLT BAPTISM.. . 136 
 
 7376G1
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE following allegories and stories have been 
 actually related by the Author to his children 
 on successive Sunday evenings. He began 
 the practice with the earnest desire of com- 
 bining some sort of occupation suitable to 
 the Lord's-day, with something which might 
 amuse his little ones. Few parents can, he 
 thinks, have failed to feel the want which he 
 would here hope in some measure to supply. 
 
 On the one hand, if the conversations and 
 employments of Sunday are not ea^y marked 
 as different from those of Goner days, how is
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 it possible that our children can grow up 
 with a deeply-rooted reverence for its holi- 
 ness ? On the other hand, if the day is one 
 which they remember only for its dulness, 
 how can children grow up in the love of this 
 blessed season? 'Everlasting droopings,'* 
 their young hearts least of all will 'bear.' 
 And if on other days they are used to amus- 
 ing employments, if they love (and all chil- 
 dren should be made to love them) the times 
 of relaxation in which they see their parents 
 as friends, and in some sort companions, what 
 else can happen, if on this day all amusement 
 be banished, and all interest removed, but 
 that they will grow insensibly to feel the 
 Lord's-day a weariness. But if the week- 
 day's tale is changed for the Sunday story, 
 and if the child is really interested in it, he 
 learns even unawares, to separate in his own 
 mind the first day of the week from its 
 
 * Herbert's Country Pastor, cxxvii.
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 common days, and that by a pleasurable 
 separation. 
 
 Such has been, to a remarkable degree, 
 the effect of the first telling of these stories 
 in the Author's family, and such he cannot 
 help hoping may be more widely their effect 
 when they are given to the public. The 
 questions at the close of each are designed 
 as tracks, not as grooves, and they may 
 easily be multiplied or reduced in number, 
 according to the judgment of the parent, or 
 the age and intelligence of the child. Some 
 of them are the very answers he received 
 from his children. 
 
 One word more should be said about the 
 plan of these narratives. The Author's 
 greatest care has been, while interweaving 
 in them as much instruction as he could 
 about the Holy Scriptures, its allegories, 
 and some of its most striking narratives, to 
 keep as far as possible from all lowering
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 down of holy things, or making the mysteries 
 of the faith common and cheap to childish 
 imaginations. Against this most dangerous 
 evil, which appears to him to infest and 
 poison many of the current religious books 
 for children, he begs here most earnestly to 
 protest, as against that which is laying un- 
 awares the foundation of untold evils, in 
 accustoming the mind to look curiously, and 
 with levity, on things which man must never 
 approach but with humiliation and adoration. 
 * Put off thy shoes from off thy feet ; for the 
 place whereon thou standest is holy ground.' 
 This should be from the first the temper 
 carefully wrought into our children's minds, 
 if we would have them approach God with 
 acceptance. 
 
 To teach them to think boldly of mys- 
 teries, in the vain hope of explaining to their 
 childish minds what, in the fulness of their 
 highest understanding, they can never truly
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 comprehend, may make them shrewd and 
 forward questioners, but cannot make them 
 meek and teachable disciples. 
 
 It only remains further to say, for what 
 a^e these stories are intended. The Author's 
 
 o 
 
 children reach from five to nine years old, 
 and are of ordinary powers of comprehension. 
 Of these, the eldest has been fully interested 
 by the simplest narratives, and the youngest 
 has understood the most difficult. All the 
 applications of the allegorical tales, they of 
 course will not understand at first ; but in 
 the Author's judgment, this is the very ex- 
 cellence of allegorical instruction. The minds 
 of children may be fatally dwarfed, by never 
 having presented to them anything but that 
 which they can understand without effort; 
 whilst it is exceedingly difficult to devise 
 anything which shall at the same time attract 
 their attention and stretch their faculties. 
 It is exactly this want which allegory sup-
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 plies ; the story catches the attention of the 
 youngest; glimpses of the under-meaning 
 continually flash into their minds ; and whilst 
 it is difficult to say exactly how much they 
 have fully understood, it is clear that it has 
 been enough to give them interest, and arouse 
 their faculties. 
 
 May God hereby bless some of the tender 
 lambs of his fold-
 
 ADYEETISEMENT 
 
 TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 THE rapid sale of a numerous edition of this 
 little work not only proves the existence of 
 the want which it is intended to supply, but 
 it is also a gratifying mark of the kindness 
 with which the attempt has been received. 
 
 On one point the Author has been re- 
 quested to say a single word in explanation 
 of his plan. Some of the stories are gathered 
 from Holy Scripture, and yet do not adhere 
 in every particular to the letter of the- Bible 
 narrative ; and he has been requested to ex- 
 plain the principle of such variations. They 
 consist, then, he would say, in every case, of
 
 Xll ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 the mere marking out of lines which the 
 general sketch of Scripture appeared to him 
 to contain : the filling up for his young 
 readers of the picture, which is set before 
 them there in outline merely. Thus, for in- 
 stance, in the ninth story, David is represented 
 as slaying the lion and the bear in a time of 
 snow, though this is not mentioned in the 
 passage which records the fact. But in 
 another chapter we find the slaying of a lion 
 especially recorded, with the addition that it 
 was ' in the time of snow' (2 Sam. xxiii. 20) ; 
 and this seeming to point out the season of 
 the year at which such beasts were wont to 
 leave their more retired haunts, it is intro- 
 duced to perfect the picture which the brief 
 narrative of Scripture sketches only in outline. 
 No further liberty has been taken with 
 the letter of God's word ; and this does not, 
 the Author trusts, exceed the just and neces- 
 sary limits of exposition.
 
 SUNDAY STORIES. 
 I. 
 
 AGATHOS, OB THE WHOLE ARMOUE OF GOD. 
 
 THERE was once a brave King whose country 
 was visited by a very fierce and deadly 
 Dragon. The King chose out therefore some 
 of his best soldiers, and sent them into that 
 part of the land where this Dragon was doing 
 so much mischief. Before they went, he said 
 to them ' You all know that I IKIVO 
 fought with this Dragon and conquered and 
 smote him, though he put forth all his rage 
 and power against me. All my faithful 
 
 1
 
 2 AGATHOS, OE 
 
 followers must tread in my footsteps ; they 
 must overcome as I overcame, and then they 
 shall sit upon the steps of my throne. There- 
 fore I send you out to fight with this monster, 
 and my strength shall go forth with you in 
 the battle. Be therefore upon your guard. 
 If you remember my words, and call upon 
 my name in the time of danger ; and above 
 all, if you take and use boldly all the armour 
 I have provided for you ; then the Dragon 
 can never hurt you. But if he finds you un- 
 prepared if he comes upon you without 
 your armour, then he will certainly set upon 
 you and slay you.' 
 
 The soldiers promised to be upon their 
 guard, and set off in high spirits into the land 
 where the evil beast lay. When first they 
 came there, they kept their guard very dili- 
 gently, and always wore their armour. They 
 never all slept at once ; but some always 
 watched whilst the others rested. It was a 
 fine sight to see these brave men in their
 
 THE WHOLE AEMOUE OF GOD. 3 
 
 shining armour, marching up and down the 
 land, and all the people safe and happy because 
 the King's army was keeping guard. It was 
 a fine sight to see them early in the morning, 
 when some one or two had long been watch- 
 ing whilst the others slept, and they were now 
 about to change turns ; it was a fine sight to 
 see how the brave men would wake up re- 
 freshed by sleep, and put on carefully their 
 armour, and try their swords to see that they 
 were keen and sharp ; and then kneel down 
 and pray, and call upon the name of their 
 Prince, and then go out to keep their guard 
 against the evil Dragon. 
 
 This was a noble sight to see ; but, alas, 
 it did not last : all the time they watched, 
 they never saw the Dragon. All went on 
 quietly round them. The farmers ploughed 
 their lands, and the reapers were soon about to 
 reap in the harvest; there were marriages, 
 and feasts, and pleasures, and business ; and 
 the soldiers began to think that perhaps after
 
 4 AGATHOS, OB 
 
 all it was but an empty tale that had been 
 spoken of the Dragon, and to forget their 
 master's word about watching and standing 
 fast. The weather, too, grew very hot and 
 sultry, and their arms seemed heavier than 
 they had ever done before. ' What,' said one, 
 ' can be the use of always wearing this heavy 
 lumbering helmet ? The sun heats it till it 
 scorches me up ; and no one ever sees this 
 terrible Dragon. I shall leave my helmet in 
 the tent ; it will be time enough to run and 
 fetch it when I see the Dragon coming.' So 
 said another of his breastplate ; and another 
 found his shield so troublesome and, cumbrous, 
 that he laid it up in the tent ; and the ground 
 had grown so hot and sandy that they found 
 their brazen sandals tire and burn their feet, 
 so they cast them too away, and sauntered 
 about, some here and some there ; to this feast, 
 and to that wedding ; some without this part 
 of their armour, and some without that, until 
 you could scarcely have known them, unless
 
 THE WHOLE AEMOUE OF GOD. 5 
 
 you looked very close to find the King's mark, 
 to be the soldiers of the King, who had looked 
 so bright and terrible, when their Prince sent 
 them out with their armour and his warnings 
 into the far battle-field. 
 
 One indeed there was of the troop, who 
 would not give into their ways ; Agathos was 
 his name, and sorely was he grieved by the 
 sight of his careless comrades. Often and 
 often did he remind them of their Prince's 
 caution, and tell them that the enemy was 
 surely near, although as yet they saw him 
 not ; that their Prince could not be mistaken, 
 for that he himself had fought with the 
 Dragon, and knew how terrible he was. The 
 rest also laughed and jeered at the brave 
 man, and called him coward, and many other 
 hard names, because he would not do as they 
 did. But he meekly put up with it all ; and 
 neither their hard words, nor the hot sun by 
 day, making him often faint, nor the weary 
 sands over which he had to march, nor the
 
 6 AGATHOS, OR 
 
 cold wet dews of the night, could make 
 Agathos lay aside the armour which his Prince 
 had bid him wear, or to take off the brazen 
 sandals from his swollen feet, or cease watch- 
 ing carefully all the night through. 
 
 All this went on for some time longer, 
 and the hard words of the idle soldiers grew 
 harder and harder, as they became more and 
 more sure that they should never see their 
 enemy. But just when they thought them- 
 selves most safe the danger was at hand ; for 
 now there were fearful sights to be seen, if 
 one could have been by to witness them. One 
 of the soldiers was coming home about this 
 time from a great feast, at which he had been. 
 There had been mirth, and merriment, and 
 songs, and dances, and the soldier had taken 
 off his armour; and now he was walking 
 lightly home to his tent, through the pleasant 
 summer evening air. He was thinking of the 
 merry party which had just broken up, and 
 what a happy life he was leading, and pitying
 
 THE WHOLE ARMOUE OF GOD. 7 
 
 Agathos, whose fears and scruples kept him 
 always pacing about the tent in his heavy 
 armour. But just as these thoughts passed 
 through his mind, he heard a strange rustling 
 noise in a wood upon his right hand ; and in 
 an instant, as quick as lightning, the dreadful 
 form of the fierce Dragon stood before him. 
 His knees knocked together as he felt at his 
 side for the keen sword his Prince had given 
 him : but it was not there. The Dragon was 
 making at him, and in his terror he called 
 upon his King, but something seemed to tell 
 him it was too late now : that he would not 
 bear the burden of his armour, and therefore 
 that there was no one to help him and he 
 turned to fly, but the place seemed all beset 
 with piercing darts which the Dragon had 
 cast upon the ground, and he had thrown 
 away the King's sandals of brass ; so his 
 feet failed him and he fell upon the ground, 
 and the evil beast devoured him. So it was 
 with one and another, and their companions
 
 AGATHOS, OR 
 
 missed them ; and at first they wondered why 
 they came not home ; then they looked sad and 
 grave for awhile, when they spoke of them, 
 but soon they feasted, and ate, and drank just 
 as merrily, and forgot their armour and their 
 Prince's word, and knew not that danger was 
 at hand. 
 
 But the Dragon, who had gained courage 
 by all these victories over the soldiers of the 
 Prince whom he feared, now thought he might 
 attack the camp itself, and.slay all his enemies 
 at once. 
 
 Long time he lay hid in a wood bordering 
 on the camp ; for he saw Agathos walking up 
 and down, and keeping guard as he had done 
 always, and he saw his biting sword hanging 
 at his side, and his huge shield, with a bright 
 red cross upon it, hung over his shoulder, and 
 he remembered his battle with the Prince, and 
 he feared. 
 
 But when the next noon-day was come, 
 and Agathos, who had watched long, had
 
 THE WHOLE ARMOUR OF GOD. *J 
 
 gone into his tent and laid down to get a little 
 needful sleep, whilst his companions were all 
 around the tent, then the Dragon thought 
 that his time was come, and with a mighty 
 yell he rushed forth from the cover of the 
 wood, and fell, tooth and nail, upon the 
 soldiers, tearing some with his cruel claws, 
 fixing his iron teeth in others, and stinging 
 many to death with his poisonous tail. Then 
 was there a great cry all through the camp 
 for the forgotten armour ; and one seized a 
 sword and made against the dragon for a 
 moment ; but because he had no helmet, 
 whilst he was aiming a blow, the Dragon 
 darted his claws upon his head, and he fell 
 down slain ; and by this time another had 
 rushed up with a helmet buckled on, and a 
 sword in his hand, and he fought longer, and 
 gave the Dragon a wound, whereupon he cast 
 forth his burning sting, which reached all 
 around to his loins, and as there was no 
 armour girded on them, he too fell down and
 
 10 AGATHOS, OR 
 
 died. Then started up another, and he 
 seemed well nigh armed, but in his hurry he 
 could not wait to seek for the shield which 
 he had thrown carelessly aside ; and so when 
 he joined in battle with the Dragon and smote 
 at him with his good sword, and had wounded 
 him somewhat, and the Dragon could not 
 seize upon his helmeted head, or sting his 
 well-greaved loins ; suddenly he saw the evil 
 one cast fiery darts out of his wicked talons ; 
 and these his sword could not stop, and he 
 had no shield on which to catch them, and so 
 they lighted upon him and pierced through 
 his armour, and he fell down slain ; and the 
 next was overcome, because in the hot fight, 
 when his shield was knocked aside for a mo- 
 ment, his breast was without its breastplate, 
 and so he was wounded to the death ; and 
 another fell through the broken darts with 
 which the ground was strewn, because he 
 had come forth from his tent without his 
 sandals ; and now the Dragon was triumphing
 
 THE WHOLE AEMOUE OP GOD. 11 
 
 in the greatness of his strength, and thinking 
 soon to swallow up the Prince's army. 
 
 But the noise had woke Agathos from a 
 -sweet holy dream, which had been cheering 
 his sleep. He thought he saw his Prince 
 standing near him just as he had been when 
 he fought himself with the Dragon ; blood 
 dropped from his hands and his feet, but the 
 Dragon was trodden under them ; and he 
 thought his master looked upon him with his 
 own look of strength and kindness, and said, 
 * Good and faithful servant/ ' thou shalt go 
 upon the lion and adder, the young lion and 
 the dragon shalt thou tread under thy feet ; 
 and fear not, for I am with thee.' Even 
 with these words sounding in his ears he was 
 roused by the cry of his companions, and the 
 fierce voice of the Dragon. Then, as he had 
 always expected his attack, Agathos was not 
 startled or hurried ; but springing from the 
 ground .he girded his bright sword upon his 
 thigh, and his breastplate, and his greaves,
 
 12 AGATHOS, OR 
 
 and his sandals were all bound upon him in 
 their places, for even in sleep he would not 
 cast them off, and he fitted his helmet on his 
 head, and drew his arm through the handle 
 of his shield ; and then he knelt down upon 
 the ground, and called upon the Lord, and 
 thought upon his Prince, and rushed out into 
 the battle. When the enemy saw him coming, 
 he left trampling on the slain, and moved on 
 to meet him. Then was there a dreadful 
 battle between that good soldier of his Lord 
 and the fierce enemy. More than once was 
 Agathos beaten on his knees, and could but 
 just keep up the good shield of Faith against 
 the storm of blows and shower of fiery darts 
 which the evil one poured forth ; yet even 
 as he touched the ground it seemed as if new 
 strength came into him, and he lifted up the 
 feeble knees, and smote with a mightier 
 strength against the accursed destroyer. The 
 battle still was raging when the sun went 
 down; and the good soldier was well nigh
 
 Then was Agathos right glad, and he kneeled down 
 
 and prayed, and gave thanks ; and over the battlefield he could sec the 
 
 form of his master coming to him amongst the dews of the 
 
 evening : and he heard his voice, and he 
 
 saw his countenance.
 
 THE WHOLE AEMOUR OF GOD 13 
 
 sinking, when he gathered all his might into 
 one strong blow, and calling out aloud upon 
 the name of his Prince, he smote the Dragon 
 so fiercely that he uttered a piercing cry and 
 fled quite away, and left him to himself. 
 Then was Agathos right glad, and he kneeled 
 down and prayed, and gave thanks ; and over 
 the battle-field he could see the form of his 
 master coming to him amongst the dews of 
 the evening ; and he heard his voice, and he 
 saw his countenance, and his happy dream 
 was more than true, and he dwelled for ever 
 in the presence of his Prince. 
 
 FATHEE. My dear children, can you tell 
 me what passage of God's word this is meant 
 to explain to you ? 
 
 CHILD. Yes; I think it must be those 
 verses which I learned the other day from 
 the sixth chapter of St. Paul's Epistle to the 
 Ephesians. ' Take unto you the whole armour 
 of God, that ye may be able to withstand in 
 the evil day, and, having done all, to stand.
 
 14 AGATHOS, OR 
 
 Stand, therefore, having your loins girt about 
 with truth, and having on the breastplate of 
 righteousness. And your feet shod with the 
 preparation of the gospel of peace. Above 
 all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye 
 shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of 
 the wicked. And take the helmet of salva- 
 tion, and the sword of the Spirit, which is 
 the word of God. Praying always, with all 
 prayer and supplication in the Spirit.' 
 
 F. Yes ; it is meant to explain this : and 
 can you tell me who the Prince is, who had 
 fought himself with the enemy, and now sends 
 out his soldiers to fight ? 
 
 C. Jesus Christ our Saviour, who once 
 fought with Satan for us, and now sends out 
 his people to resist him. 
 
 F. Who are his soldiers ? 
 
 C. All those who are members of his 
 church. 
 
 F. Can you remember what the Baptismal 
 Service says about this ?
 
 THE WHOLE AKMODB OF GOD. 15 
 
 C. When the minister makes the sign of 
 the cross upon the child's forehead, he says 
 that he does it * in token that he shall not be 
 ashamed to confess the faith of Christ cruci- 
 fied, but manfully to fight under his banner 
 against sin, the world, and the devil, and to 
 continue Christ's faithful soldier and servant 
 unto his life's end.' 
 
 F. What does the Catechism call Satan, 
 against whom you are to strive ? 
 
 C. * My ghostly enemy.' 
 
 F. Who are safe against him ? 
 
 C. Those who live in prayer and watch- 
 fulness, and keep on all the Christian armour. 
 
 F. Who are tempted to lay aside these ? 
 
 C. We all are ; for we are all apt to grow 
 weary in watching and prayer. 
 
 F. What will happen to us if we do grow 
 weary, and cease to watch ? 
 
 C. We shall be overtaken by the devil, 
 and become his prey. 
 
 F. If we watch are we safe ? -
 
 16 AGATHOS. 
 
 C. Yes, for Christ our master will then 
 keep us. 
 
 F. "What has He promised us about this 
 in his word ? 
 
 0. ' Resist the devil, and he will flee from 
 you,' James iv. 7.
 
 II. 
 
 THE RAVENS IN THE FAMINE. 
 
 THE spring time was come, and the birds had 
 all built their nests, and sat upon their 
 smooth round eggs till they had hatched 
 them ; and now they were busy flying here 
 and there, and running along the ground, 
 some picking up seeds, and some catching 
 flies, and some seizing every worm which 
 put his head above the damp ground; and 
 all carrying them off as fast as possible to 
 feed their young ones, as they were taught 
 to do by the instinct which God Almighty 
 had given them. It was a busy, happy scene. 
 Cheerful too it was to the ear as well as to 
 the eye; for sometimes they stopped from 
 their labour to sing a song of praise to the 
 good God who has made this happy world.
 
 18 THE RAVENS IN THE FAMINE. 
 
 Amongst these birds there were 
 great black ones called Ravens. These flew 
 to a town a long way off, and there they 
 lighted by a great shop, where a man was 
 busy selling bread and meat to the people 
 who came to buy. The man threw them 
 each a lump of bread and piece of meat for 
 the sport of the people round, and the birds 
 took them in their strong beaks, and flew 
 straight away with them ; and the people 
 clapped their hands and shouted. But they 
 were all surprised when just at night the 
 same birds came again to the same place and 
 seemed to ask for more, and then flew away 
 with what was given them, just as they had 
 done in the morning. The next day they 
 came again as soon as the shop was open, 
 and when they had got what they wanted, 
 away they flew with it, and were seen no 
 more till night, and then again they only 
 stayed till some bread and meat was given 
 them, and then nobody saw more of them.
 
 THE RAVENS IN THE FAMINE. 19 
 
 Many persons tried to watch them ; they 
 must have, it was thought, some great nest 
 near, and they took all this with them to 
 feed their nestlings. 
 
 But perhaps these people were quite 
 wrong; for God, who has taught birds in 
 general to feed their young ones, has before 
 now taught them a different lesson. So it 
 was at that time of which we read in the 
 Bible, when he taught Ravens to feed one of 
 the Prophets. If any one could have flown 
 with them and seen all their doings, it would 
 have been a strange sight. How they got 
 the meat we do not know ; but we know that 
 any one who could have flown with them, 
 would have seen that as soon as they got it 
 they flew straight away with it to another 
 country. Then they passed over a land 
 where everything was dry and burnt up for 
 want of rain. It had not rained for a whole 
 year, and all the brooks were dry. The little 
 streams which had leaped from stone to
 
 20 THE HAVENS IN THE FAMINE. 
 
 stone were drunk in by the thirsty ground, 
 and their murmuring voice was no more 
 heard ; the corn was parched up and would 
 not grow ; the grass was dried and withered ; 
 the cattle had eaten it quite close down to 
 the dusty earth, and then had grown thinner 
 and thinner till they had died. Men's faces 
 had grown thin and sharp, and their eyes 
 looked hungrily out of their sunk cheeks ; 
 and their tongues were dry, and swelled with 
 thirst ; and they walked about, here and 
 there, looking for food and for water, and 
 they could not find any. 
 
 CHILD. There was a great famine in that 
 land 
 
 FATHER. Yes, there was a great famine. 
 The people of the land had sinned against 
 God, and He had bid ' the clouds that' they 
 should rain no rain upon it.' And if you 
 could have flown with those Eavens you 
 would have heard a great voice of sadness, 
 and sighing, and sorrow, rising from all that 
 land as they flew over it.
 
 You might have seen this good man kneeling down.
 
 THE RAVENS IX THE FAMINE. 21 
 
 But where do you think the Ravens were 
 flying to ? They flew over all that land till 
 they came to a cave in the side of a high 
 sandy hill, and if you could have looked into 
 that cave you would have seen, not a nest of 
 young Ravens, but one man sitting, or stand- 
 ing, or kneeling by the side of a little brook 
 that rose high up in the cave, and sunk just 
 below in the thirsty land, so that no one else 
 knew of it. 
 
 Perhaps you might have seen this good 
 man kneeling down and lifting up his hands 
 towards the sky, and saying, * Lord God, 
 who hast kept me hitherto, and ordered the 
 wild ravens to feed me, take Thou care of me 
 this day, for Thou art my God, and I am thy 
 servant.' 
 
 And then the mouth of the cave was 
 darkened for a moment ; it was by the wings 
 of the great Ravens, as they flew in and laid 
 down the meat and the bread before the good 
 man's feet ; and he would rise and gather a
 
 22 THE EAVENS IN THE FAMINE. 
 
 few dry sticks to dress the meat at the cave's 
 mouth, and drink some of the clear spring 
 water, and then kneel down again to thank 
 his God who had taught the Ravens to fly all 
 over the starving country to bring it to him 
 in this lonely cave. 
 
 F. Can you tell me whsre this story comes 
 from ? 
 
 C. Yes, we may read it in the seventeenth 
 chapter of the first book of Kings. 
 
 F. Who was it that was thus fed by Ravens? 
 
 C. The prophet Elijah, by thebrookCherith,. 
 
 F. Why did God thus take care of him ? 
 
 C. Because he was his faithful servant. 
 
 F. Yes, my child, and so it shall always 
 be. He will never leave nor forsake those 
 who trust in Him and serve Him truly. He 
 will feel and care for a child that prays to 
 Him. ' The young lions do lack and suffer 
 hunger ; but they who trust in the Lord shall 
 want no manner of thing that is good.'
 
 III. 
 
 THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 
 
 THERE was a deep dungeon its walls were all 
 green and stained with the damp which had 
 long hung on them ; its floor was made of 
 cold rough stones. It had one small window, 
 across which were thick iron bars, and it was 
 so narrow and so high up, that hardly any 
 light came from it to the floor. It was night, 
 and all was quite still and silent there : even 
 in the day, no cheerful sound came into that 
 sad place ; not even a bird's song was ever 
 heard there ; scarcely even a fly could ever 
 be seen in it ; but now it was night, and dark, 
 and silent, except when now and then the 
 moving of chains was heard on that dungeon's 
 floor. For a man was lying there chained, 
 by chains which went round his wrists. But
 
 24 THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 
 
 his chains made no noise now, for he was 
 lying still : he was asleep ; sleeping as quietly, 
 and breathing as gently as if he were a child. 
 How could he be sleeping so gently ? Did 
 he know where he was ? Yes, he well knew ; 
 and he knew too, that when the sun rose the 
 next morning, and woke so many persons all 
 around him to their daily work, or to their 
 daily pleasures,' that it would see him led out 
 of that prison to be put to a cruel death ; for 
 that the very next morning he was to be 
 killed. Then surely he must have been some 
 very wicked man ; for why else should he be 
 in that dungeon, and why else should he be 
 about to be killed? You would the more 
 have thought so if you could have seen all ; 
 for you would have seen that he was chained 
 to two soldiers, who lay on each side of him, 
 with their weapons ready to slay him if he 
 were to move. Fierce, evil-looking men they 
 were, of dark and savage faces; they were 
 asleep, but even in their sleep they looked
 
 THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 25 
 
 angry and cruel. The gate of the dungeon 
 too was barred and locked, and there were 
 four other soldiers asleep outside it ; and be- 
 yond them again was a great iron gate fast 
 closed, so that surely he must be a very 
 nicked and desperate man whom they arc 
 guarding with this strength and care. And 
 yet, if you could look into his face, you would 
 see him sleeping quietly and calmly. A little 
 child upon the knees of his mother could 
 hardly sleep more gently. And could he 
 sleep so if he were indeed a wicked man ? 
 Could his conscience be asleep when he was 
 thus deep in the dungeon, and death coming 
 so near to him ? No doubt he could not ; no 
 doubt that his sleep could not have been what 
 it was, unless God had been with him there ; 
 for he was a holy man, one who did indeed 
 love God, one who had followed Jesus Christ 
 when He lived upon this earth, and whom 
 with eleven others Jesus Christ had trusted 
 to govern his church, now that He had as-
 
 26 THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 
 
 cended into heaven. He had been thrown 
 into that dungeon, because he loved Jesus 
 Christ, and believed in Him, and would speak 
 about Him among people who hated Him; 
 and so their wicked king had laid hold on 
 him, and cast him into this dungeon, and was 
 about to put him to death the very next day. 
 He seemed now given over, for no one else 
 was to be seen in that dungeon, but the poor 
 man in chains, and the fierce soldiers to whom 
 he was bound. But there was another there ; 
 there was one who watched over him ; who 
 kept him from all harm ; who gave him that 
 sweet sleep ; who heard when he prayed, and 
 was ever ready to help him Jesus Christ was 
 there. 
 
 There was in that town another room, not 
 a very large one, and yet there were many 
 persons in it. It was now late at night, but 
 still they stayed there. There were some 
 men and some women what are they doing ? 
 They are praying to God, calling on the name
 
 He was chained to two soldiers "I"' ''>' "" each 
 
 side of him, with their weapons ready to slay him if he were to 
 
 move. F'icrre. evil-looking men they were, of dark and savage fare. 
 
 Th"V too were asleep.
 
 THE MAN IN THE DCNGEON. 27 
 
 of Jesus Christ, begging Him to save his ser- 
 vant Peter, and not to let him, like St. James, 
 be put to death by Herod. They prayed very 
 earnestly, and no doubt their prayers were 
 heard. Perhaps it is as an answer to their 
 prayers, that the chained prisoner sleeps so 
 peacefully; for he looks as if some happy 
 vision or dream came to him as he slept. 
 Perhaps he is dreaming of the time when he 
 was a boy, and went with his father upon the 
 lake of Genneseret as a fisherman. 
 
 Perhaps he dreams of the first time he 
 went : how pleased he was to go ; how the 
 bright moon shone, and the little waves 
 rippled round the boat, as it shot with its 
 dark shadow through the moonlight, and left 
 a troubled path on the waters where it passed. 
 Is that his father's voice calling him ? Is 
 that the moonlight round him ? See, he starts 
 in his sleep and opens his eyes ; he looks like 
 a man who harldly knows whether he is well 
 awake, or still in a dream. What is the
 
 28 THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 
 
 light around him? there was never moon- 
 light in the .dungeon, and he is there, and 
 not by the sea of Galilee. And what is this 
 light, brighter, and yet softer far than any 
 moonlight ? It is so clear, that he can see 
 every corner of the dungeon, and yet so mild 
 that it does not dazzle his eyes, which had 
 been so long in the darkness. And what is 
 that voice which says to him, ( Arise up, 
 quickly,' as kind as his father's in his dream, 
 and yet a real sounding voice ? The soldiers 
 too beside him, why do they sleep on ? He 
 looks up, and he sees a form he knows not. 
 Is it one of God's angels ? the light seems to 
 beam from him : either he must be a holy 
 angel, or all this is a beautiful dream; But 
 he does as the voice bids him ; he rises up, 
 and the chains fall off from his hands ; they 
 clanked and rung as they fell upon the 
 ground, but the soldiers did not stir : the 
 hands of one of them was upon the hilt of 
 his sword ; in a moment surely it would be
 
 They pass through into the open air.
 
 THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 29 
 
 drawn, and Peter slain : but no, the fierce 
 man slept on, and Peter bound on his sandals, 
 and followed the angel. He passed the first 
 gate, for it opened for them ; the keepers lay 
 around it, but no man stirred, and it shut 
 again behind them. They came to the second; 
 it too is left behind. Surely it must be a 
 dream. But now they stand before the iron 
 gate ; its heavy weight hangs always stiffly 
 on its rusty hinges, and many men can only 
 just slowly and scarcely force it open with a 
 great creaking and noise. It too opens of 
 its own accord, and they pass through it into 
 the open air. It was a very pleasant feeling ; 
 that first breath of the open summer night- 
 breeze upon Peter's forehead, which had 
 grown damp and cold in the dark wet dun- 
 geon. Surely it must be more than a dream. 
 He looked round for the angel who brought 
 him forth, but he was gone. Gone as he 
 came, unseen and unknown by man, save 
 when God would have him seen. Perhaps
 
 30 THE MAN IN THE DUNGEON. 
 
 he stood near him still, though he could be 
 seen no longer. Peter stands doubtful for a 
 moment. Then all the truth comes surely 
 on his mind, and he knew that * the Lord had 
 sent his angel, and delivered him out of the 
 hands of Herod, and from all the expectation 
 of the people of the Jews.' And he went to 
 that room where the servants of the Lord 
 were together praying, and they would 
 scarcely believe when they heard that Peter 
 was there. But he went in and told them 
 what great things the Lord had done for 
 him ; and he and they feared the Lord 
 together, and trusted in Him more and more.
 
 IV. 
 
 THE CHILDREN AND THE LIOW. 
 
 THEBE was once a father -who had two children 
 whom he loved exceedingly. They were a 
 little girl and boy, and they were good and 
 obedient children. For many years, ever 
 since they were born, they had lived in the 
 middle of a great town, and had never seen 
 the open fields and the beautiful flowers, and 
 birds, and woods, except sometimes when 
 their father took them out in a carriage with 
 him for an hour or two ; and those were 
 happy times. One day, when the little girl 
 was seven, and the boy nine years old, their 
 their father called them to him, and said to 
 them, * My dear children, I am going to take 
 you away from this house in which you have 
 been used to live, and to take you into another
 
 32 THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 
 
 house where you will have a beautiful garden, 
 in which you can pUy &bout amongst the 
 flowers, and hear the birds sing all day long, 
 and see the bright butterflies which you have 
 seen when I have taken you out in the car- 
 riage.' 
 
 C. How pleased the little boy and girl 
 must have been to go to such a beautiful 
 house, from the midst of the dark town where 
 they had lived before. 
 
 F. Yes, they were greatly pleased; and 
 when the next day they came to this new 
 house, and looked out of its windows, and 
 saw the green grass looking fresh and bright, 
 and gay butterflies flying over it up and 
 down, and the painted feathers of all sorts of 
 birds which flew in and out of the bushes, or 
 stayed to warble in the thickets, they longed 
 to run straight out of doors and sing too, 
 they were so happy, and thought that th.^r 
 should never tire of gathering the flowers, 
 and playing with the bright yellow gourds
 
 'THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 33 
 
 which they could see growing here and there 
 in the beds, and watching the birds and 
 butterflies. But just as they were running 
 out, their father called them to him with a 
 very grave face, so grave as to be almost sad, 
 and said to them, ' My dearest children, before 
 you go into that beautiful garden, listen well 
 to what I am going to tell you. In that 
 garden there is a fierce and hungry lion, who 
 is always walking up and down it, to find 
 some one to devour. There are reasons, 
 which you cannot understand, why I cannot 
 turn this lion out ; and why, much as I love 
 you, I have yet brought you to live in this 
 irarden, near such a savage beast; but if you 
 will remember my words, he can never hurt 
 you. What you must do is this keep in 
 mind that he is ever near you; that he is 
 waiting to spring on you, and when the sun 
 is the brightest, and the birds the gayest, 
 and all is most beautiful around you, and you 
 are the happiest yourselves, then think that 
 
 3
 
 34 THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 
 
 he is near yon, and watch carefully lest he 
 should spring on you unseen ; for if, when 
 you see him, you call on me to help you, you 
 will find me always near you, and he will fly 
 away from you. Do not stay to think how 
 I can hear you when you do not see me, but 
 call at once on me, and I shall be always by 
 your side, and you will be safe. But if in 
 your play you cease to watch for the lion, and 
 so are not ready to call on me, he will creep 
 close to you when you least expect it, and 
 spring on you and devour you.' 
 
 The children looked very grave and 
 thoughtful ; each took the other's hand, and 
 they walked quite sadly down into the garden, 
 trembling and afraid, as though thinking 
 that at every turn the great lion would spring 
 out upon them. But they saw nothing of 
 him ; and as the birds hopped round them, 
 and the gay butterflies floated up and down 
 in the air, and the sun sparkled in the stream 
 that ran amongst the flowers, they began to
 
 As she looked into the bushes, which were quite white 
 
 with their bright blossoms, she saw something creeping softly toward> 
 
 her, anil in a moment her eye- were fixe.l on the fierce 
 
 fiery eyes of the savage '.ion.
 
 THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 35 
 
 forget that there was such a thing as a lion in 
 the world ; and soon they were playing and 
 laughing as merrily and loud as if they had 
 never heard that he was near them. But just 
 when they were the gayest, they heard their 
 father's voice, saying, sadly and seriously, 
 'Remember /' They started and looked round, 
 but they could not see him : the voice seemed 
 to come from the air; but the little girl 
 thought directly of the lion ; and as she 
 looked into the bushes, which were quite 
 white with their bright blossoms, she saw 
 something creeping softly towards her, and 
 in a moment her eyes were fixed on the fierce 
 fiery eyes of the savage lion. She had hardly 
 breath left to call upon her father, but at the 
 first call he stood by her side, and she could 
 see the lion turn from her, and spring away 
 and hide himself in the thicket. Her father 
 took her in his arms, and told her not to fear, 
 for that she was quite safe in his keeping ; 
 and he bid her remember, that if she had not
 
 36 THE CHILDKEN A.ND THE LION. 
 
 watched, and seen the lion, and called on His 
 name, the evil beast would have sprung upon 
 her, and she would have been his prey. 
 
 Day after day passed away, and the chil- 
 dren became more and more watchful, and 
 even in their sport and play they were sober 
 and mindful of the lion ; and when he was 
 stealing near to them, they called always on 
 their father, and he ever stood beside them, 
 and saved them from his fangs. 
 
 ' Now do you remember anything h'ke this 
 in the Bible ?' 
 
 f Yes, I remember the text which says, 
 " Be sober, be vigilant, because your adver- 
 sary the devil goeth about as a roaring lion, 
 seeking whom he may devour." I suppose 
 that he is the lion.' 
 
 F. Yes, my dear children, he is ; and 
 who is the kind father who is ever near to 
 hear when they call ? 
 
 C. Is not that God, whom we are taught 
 to call our heavenly .Father ?
 
 THE CHILDREN AND THE LION. 37 
 
 F. Yes, it is God, and Jesus Christ our 
 Saviour, who are ever near those who trust 
 in them, and who will hear as soon as 
 ever they call, and who will help and deliver 
 them from the devil and his snares. So that 
 you see, my dear children, how you must 
 watch ; if you would be kept safe from this 
 great enemy. You must ' watch and pray ;' 
 watch that you may pray, and pray that you 
 may be safe.
 
 V. 
 
 THE STORM AT SEA. 
 
 A LARGE ship lay near the shore; she was 
 waiting for the wind, for all her cargo was on 
 board. The sea, which had been long as calm 
 as a great looking-glass, began to be ruffled 
 over here and there as the flaws of wind fell 
 upon it, and little waves began to rise upon 
 it, looking very bright where the sun fell upon 
 their sparkling tops, and quite black and dark 
 where they curled away from his shining ; 
 and as they followed one another on to the 
 pier, they broke against and ran up it, throw- 
 ing up a little salt spray, through which the 
 sun shone in many colours like a rainbow. 
 
 When the wind began to rise, every one 
 was busy on board the ship. The sailors 
 were running about, pulling the ropes, and
 
 He j*ot alongside ju-t a- >Jic hecan tn cm the water.
 
 THE STORM AT SEA. 39 
 
 shaking out the sails, and drawing up the 
 anchor; and the captain was walking here 
 and there, and seeming to think that they 
 could never work hard enough, or get the 
 ship quick enough ready to sail out to sea 
 whilst the pleasant breeze lasted. However, 
 the sailors laboured, and all was just ready, 
 when a man came down to the sea-shore and 
 jumped into a boat which lay there, and called 
 to the sailors near to row him out to the ship, 
 before she should sail away. He had but 
 just time to reach her ; he got alongside just 
 as she began to cut the water with her keel, 
 and be begged the captain to take him on 
 board, and he would pay for his passage. 
 After a few words it was settled between 
 them ; the boat pulled back to the shore, and 
 the stranger was standing on the deck of the 
 vessel, watching the windows and the people 
 and the houses, as they grew less and less 
 every moment, until they could scarcely be 
 seen the one from the other.
 
 40 THE STOEM AT SEA. 
 
 There were many things to do as the ship 
 sailed on, and the captain and the sailors had 
 not much time to look about them, or they 
 would have wondered whom they had got on 
 board. He was dressed in rough hairy 
 clothes, and did not look like a merchant, or 
 a sailor, or a soldier. He did not seem a rich 
 or great man ; and yet if you looked near 
 into his face, there was something in it which 
 made you look again and again. He seemed 
 very full of thoughts ; and these many 
 thoughts had made many deep furrows in 
 his face, and when he was pleased, as he was 
 when he found that he had caught the ship, 
 his face was lighted up with a very great 
 joyfulness. But altogether he seemed very 
 sad now. He / hardly spoke to any one, and 
 he looked often out into the air and the sky, 
 as if he saw strange things there, which were 
 seen by no one beside. When any one spoke 
 suddenly near him, he gave a great start, 
 and seemed half ready to answer, as if he
 
 THE STOEM AT SEA. 41 
 
 were expecting some one to call him. How- 
 ever, he was not much noticed, for every one 
 w;is busy except himself, and had little time 
 for looking at him. The sailors indeed 
 would shrug their shoulders sometimes, and 
 whisper to one another when he was amongst 
 them ; but for the most part he went on his 
 way and they on theirs, and they said little 
 to each other. 
 
 For the first day, the breeze favoured 
 them, and they were getting well on with 
 their voyage. The sun rose clear the next 
 day, and the pleasant breeze held up. The 
 anxious face of the captain grew smoother, 
 and he had a friendly word for the sailors 
 when they came near him. Every one was 
 busy in their work. You might see him 
 walking as sailors do, up and down the deck, 
 talking to the chief of his, crew under him. 
 Perhaps they were talking about the cargo he 
 had got on board, and what would be the 
 state of the market at Tarshish, and how
 
 42 THE STORM AT SEA. 
 
 much lie should make by the wheat and the 
 fine cloth he had got on board ; and whether 
 he should find plenty of 'gold and silver, 
 and ivory and apes ' (1 Kings x. 22) at Tar- 
 shish, which he could bring back again in his 
 ship to Joppa. Perhaps they talked about 
 the strange man who had come on board, and 
 what could be his business. ' He paid his 
 fare, but he does not seem like a merchant ; 
 and he eats little and speaks to no one ; and 
 all last night the sailors say he never slept, 
 but seemed like a man in whom some spirit 
 dwelt.' So perhaps they talked, as the 
 ship cut gaily through the waters, bound- 
 ing like a spirited horse over the tossing 
 waves. 
 
 But when the sun was past the middle 
 of the sky, and he began to sink towards the 
 sea, a belt of thick clouds might be seen 
 stretching along to the eastward. If a man 
 watched them closely, he might see that they 
 were creeping up the sky. You might see
 
 THE STORM AT SEA. 43 
 
 that they would soon be up with you those 
 sky-travellers. And so they were ; another 
 hour spread them all over the heaven, and 
 now the sun was getting near the sea ; and 
 the light was growing dim and grey. 
 
 ' We shall have but an ugly night of it, 
 from the look of the sea and sky,' was the 
 captain's judgment, and nobody thought him 
 wrong. Already the wind was sighing over 
 the sea, and whistling among the cords ; and 
 hark ! what crack of the sail was that : * we 
 shall not long be able to carry any sail at all.' 
 They were right ; the wind grew into a storm, 
 the storm grew into a hurricane ; it was a 
 fearful night ; black and rough and roaring 
 was the sea, and the poor ship strained and 
 tossed as she drove along before the wind 
 like a bubble on the wave-top. At last the 
 grey light of the morning began to give a 
 leaden colour to the sky and the waves, but 
 no help came with it. The wind only got 
 higher aou) higher, and the waves tossed more
 
 44 THE STORM AT SEA. 
 
 and more fearfully, till they thought the ship 
 would be broken by their force. 
 
 Then the captain bid the sailors bring up 
 the costly merchandise of which he had hoped 
 to make so good a sale, and throw it into the 
 sea to lighten the ship, for s we had better 
 lose it, J he said, ' than be all sunk together.' 
 So they brought it up, beautiful ears of wheat 
 from Judasa, and bales of fine cloth of blue 
 from Tyre, and they threw them into the sea, 
 and the wild waves tossed them up as if they 
 were playing with them, and then yawned, 
 opened, and sucked them in, and they saw 
 them no more. But still the storm did not 
 abate, and they thought that soon the ship 
 must go to pieces. 
 
 Now the captain and his men were heathen 
 people, and did not know the true God ; so 
 they said in their heathen way, that they 
 wondered which of the gods had sent this 
 storm ; for they thought that there were 
 many gods; and they began to pray every
 
 THE STOEM AT SEA. 45 
 
 man to the god whom they most fancied. 
 Then said one of the sailors, * Where is the 
 strange passenger in the rough garments, 
 and why is not he praying witli us ?' So 
 they sought for him, and they found him 
 down below fast asleep ; so worn out 1 >y 
 watching, that he had fallen asleep at last, 
 and slept all through that fierce night- storm 
 which had kept all the rest so busy and so full 
 of fear. 
 
 It was a strange sight to see how the 
 man awoke; how he started and looked 
 around him, and seemed more moved than 
 any, ,as soon as he was woke from that sound 
 sleep. Then they all prayed unto their gods, 
 and the stranger prayed by himself. No one 
 heard his prayers, but it seemed that he was 
 very earnest. Yet still the storm ceased not, 
 but it tossed and roared worse and worse. 
 
 The captain's voice was then heard, and 
 he said, 'We must cast lots and see for 
 whose sake this dreadful storm has come upon
 
 46 THE STORM AT SEA. 
 
 us.' So they made lots, and began to cast 
 them as best they could, in such a troubled 
 state. And now all men marked the stranger, 
 for his knees smote together, and his face 
 was pale, and his eyes were fixed in the air, 
 as if there sat always before them some ter- 
 rible thing which no one else beheld. Soon 
 the lots were given out, and the strange man 
 was taken. Then said the captain to him, 
 * Tell us who thou art, from what country, and 
 of what business, and what doing of thine has 
 brought this trouble upon us ?' 
 
 Then was it wonderful to look upon that 
 man, for he who had been so terrified, and 
 like a man haunted by fearful sights, became 
 all at once quite calm, and he said in a deep 
 strong voice which all the people could hear 
 even over the roaring of the sea, ' I am an 
 Hebrew, and I serve the God of heaven, 
 which hath made the sea and the dry land.' 
 Then he told them too why he had come with 
 them, that he was a prophet of this true and
 
 THE STORM AT SEA. 47 
 
 only God ; and that God had sent him on a 
 work which he was not willing to do ; and 
 that he had been so mad as to think that he 
 could fly from God, by crossing over the sea ; 
 but that he had found he never could fly from 
 God : that in the calm, God had been with 
 him, by night in the ship's sides ; by day on 
 the deep. When the sun rose red in the 
 morning, when it burnt bright at noon, when 
 it set in the sullen sea at night, ever God 
 was with him, and he could not fly from his 
 presence, and now that He had sent this 
 storm, he doubted not, as his messenger of 
 wrath. 
 
 Then the men looked upon him with fear : 
 and they asked him how he could have brought 
 this trouble on them by his sin, and what they 
 were to do with him. 
 
 Then he spoke again as calmly and as 
 quietly as before, and he told them to take 
 him up and cast him into the boiling sea. 
 The sailors looked at him and trembled ; and
 
 48 THE STOEM AT SEA. 
 
 they did not dare to do it : so they rowed 
 with great oars, and tried to guide and save 
 the ship ; but it could not be. The waves 
 only grew larger and larger, and the wind 
 higher and higher ; and still the strange pro- 
 phet said to them, e If you would have the 
 sea become calm, cast me into its floods.' 
 Then at last the men thought they must do 
 according to his word. So they prayed to 
 God not to hold them guilty of this stranger's 
 blood, if according to his own command they 
 cast him forth into the sea. 
 
 Then they laid hold on him. It was 
 strange to see him, who while he was flying 
 from God was frighted at the Very air, and 
 started at every sound ; now calm, and quiet, 
 and fearless, though he was about to be cast 
 into that terrible boiling sea. But now he 
 was not afraid, because he dared look up again 
 to his God. 
 
 So they cast him into the sea, and us 
 great waves closed over him, and tney saw
 
 So they cast him into the sea, and its great waves 
 
 closed over him, and they saw him no more : and the sea became 
 
 calm, and the vessel righted, and went 
 
 nn her way peacefully.
 
 THE STORM AT SEA. 49 
 
 him no more ; and ths sea became calm, and 
 the vessel righted and went on her way peace- 
 fully. 
 
 But God had prepared a great fish which 
 swam under those fearful waves, and when 
 the prophet sunk under the waters, the fish 
 swallowed him down. There was the prophet 
 alive within the fish, who dived down to the 
 bottom of the great sea and swam through all 
 its storms, diving down lower than the roots 
 of the mountains, amongst thick forests of 
 seaweeds, green, and red, and blue, which 
 man's eyes never saw or shall see. 
 
 Then the prophet prayed unto his God. 
 It was a strange place for prayer to come 
 from ; but fakhful prayer can pass to God 
 from anywhere ; and from the fish's belly at 
 the bottom of the deep sea, Jonah's prayer 
 rose up to God on high. Then God com- 
 manded the fish, and he swam towards the 
 shore of Jonah's country, and cast Jonah 
 upon the sli^re. Strange and wonderful 
 
 4
 
 50 THE STORM AT SEA. 
 
 must have been his feelings when he stood 
 once more upon the land ; felt it firm under his 
 feet, and looked out upon trees, and rocks, and 
 houses, and faces which he had known before ; 
 for he was like a man who had come back to 
 them from the grave and death. But one 
 lesson surely he had learned, and that was, 
 that man could not fly from God ; for that 
 earth, and sea, and air were full of Him, and 
 did his bidding alway.
 
 VI. 
 
 THE TWO ROADS. A DKEAM 1 . 
 
 I HAD been reading in the New Testament 
 before I fell asleep, and the words I had read 
 came back again to me in a dream. 
 
 I thought I stood upon the edge of a wide 
 common, and that from every side people 
 were crossing the common by many different 
 paths, to a place where they all met just by 
 my right hand. There were already a great 
 number of people there when I first looked, 
 and more and more kept coming there con- 
 tinually. They were of all sorts and ages, 
 rich and poor, young and old, sickly and 
 strong ; and I wondered, in my dream, what 
 it was that brought them all together. 
 
 Then I thought that I walked into the 
 middle of the crowd, to see what they were
 
 52 THE TWO EOADS. 
 
 about, and tlien I soon found what they were 
 doing. I found that all the paths in which 
 they had been walking, ended here in two 
 different gates, and they were all doubting 
 into which of these two gates they should 
 enter ; so I looked at the gates with the rest, 
 and cast my eyes down the paths which lay 
 beyond them. 
 
 A great many people were going in at the 
 first gate at which I looked, and I could not 
 wonder that they were. It stood wide open, 
 and seemed to bid all who chose to pass 
 through it. And then the path upon which 
 it opened looked as gay and pleasant as a path 
 could look. There was a bright gravel walk 
 for those who liked it, running between beds 
 of beautiful flowers ; and a little on one side 
 there was a smooth grass walk which ran 
 amongst fine spreading trees, from whose 
 green branches I thought every bird of the 
 air was singing. There were benches placed 
 here and there under those trees, where every
 
 THE TWO ROADS. 53 
 
 one could sit when he was tired, and rich 
 ripe fruits seemed to grow close by for them 
 to eat, and cool streams of water ran spark- 
 ling by, so that no one need be thirsty who 
 could stoop down and drink. Then every 
 one at first sight looked so cheerful and happy 
 along the way. There were men and women 
 singing and dancing, and there were children 
 gathering flowers, and bright birds with silver 
 feathers and golden eyes flew round and 
 round ; and the trees were all in flower, so 
 that the air was quite scented with their 
 smell, and bees hummed amongst the flowers, 
 and the sun shone, and the rivulets danced, 
 and all seemed alive and happy. I could not 
 wonder for a moment that so many turned 
 down this way. 
 
 Then I looked at the other gate, it was as 
 narrow as the other was wide. It seemed 
 indeed hardly wide enough to let any one 
 pass, and so many found it. For I saw seve- 
 ral who walked boldly up to it, and began to
 
 54 THE TWO EOADS. 
 
 push in at it, but it caught the clothes of one, 
 and the flesh of another, and the bundle of a 
 third, and they could not get through. I saw 
 too, sometimes a mother. with a child in her 
 arms, and it seemed she could not get through 
 because of this child ; and sometimes a father 
 would hold a son's hand so fast, that neither 
 could get in. What made this the stranger, 
 was, that in spite of its narrowness, every 
 one was able to push in, who tried with all 
 their might. There were some very large 
 people who pressed in, whilst others who 
 were only half their size were kept out. 
 Sometimes a mother, after much study, would 
 be willing to let go her child, rather than be 
 kept without, and then it seemed to widen for 
 them both, and they got in together. In a 
 word, it seemed wide enough to let the largest 
 in with a struggle, and too narrow to let any 
 in without ; though children got in the easiest, 
 and those who had fewest things to carry with 
 them. Few bundles indeed were got in at all.
 
 TIIE TWO KOADS. 55 
 
 Nor were the troubles over when they had 
 got by ; the path was almost as narrow as 
 the gate. 
 
 Instead of the smooth walks, and gay 
 flowers, and bright sunshine of the other 
 road, here the way was rough, and the tearing 
 thorns grew very close to each side of the 
 path ; and there were many places in which 
 it seemed to get altogether dark, so that no 
 one would be able to keep clear of the thorns 
 on one side or the other. 
 
 When I saw all this, I wondered that any 
 should try to enter into it, instead of all 
 hurrying down the gay and easy road. 
 
 But as I cast up my eyes, in my surprise 
 I saw that there was a motto written over 
 each, and I hastened to read them. That 
 over the gate I was looking at, said thus : 
 
 The narrow path and thorny way 
 Leads pilgrims to eternal day. 
 
 and then casting my eyes upon the other, I 
 read
 
 56 THE TWO ROADS. 
 
 This flowery way which men desire, 
 Must end in everlasting fire. 
 
 Now when I had read these two mottos, 
 as I knew that the KING who had put them 
 up was truth itself, I began to wonder how 
 any could dare to go along the broad and eas^r 
 way, though it did look so tempting ; and I 
 stopped to watch how it was that any dared 
 to do so. 
 
 The first I saw was a fine high-spirited 
 young lad, who, when I first looked at him, 
 was still holding his father's hand. The old 
 man looked somewhat sad, and I could see 
 that he was struggling hard to get himself 
 and his son up to the narrow gate. Just then 
 there came by a party of merry young people, 
 and they stretched out their gay hands to the 
 poor boy, and looked into his face with their 
 laughing eyes, and he slipped away from his 
 father, and made with them towards the broad 
 way. Just before he turned in, he looked 
 round and said to his father, * I shall only go
 
 They stretched out their gay hands to the poor boy.
 
 THE TWO EOADS. 57 
 
 a little way with them, just to see what it is 
 like, and then I shall turn back and follow 
 you ;' and then he passed into the green walk, 
 and I could see him for a long way laughing 
 and merry ; but he never seemed to turn 
 round again, and I never saw him come back. 
 And as I looked, I saw many more turn- 
 ing in the same way; some because they 
 could not get a bag of money through the 
 narrow way, and could not bear to leave it ; 
 some because they were afraid of tearing their 
 fine clothes in squeezing through ; some be- 
 cause it looked so dreary all down the narrow 
 way, and they longed to gather the flowers 
 and the fruits with which the broad way was 
 full; some from mere thoughtlessness, and 
 some because those who were round them 
 began to jeer at .them as soon as they turned 
 their eyes towards the narrow gate. Some 
 too I saw, who went in at the broad gate, 
 because, after walking a little way in the nar- 
 row road, they had got torn by the thorns
 
 58 THE TWO ROADS. 
 
 which grew beside it. These seemed the 
 saddest of any ; but they were always per- 
 suading every one to go in at the wide gate. 
 * Trust us,* they would say, showing the 
 scratches upon their hands and cheeks, ' trust 
 us and be warned, for the path gets narrower 
 and narrower, and darker and darker, and if 
 you are fools enough to enter, you will soon 
 wish yourselves out as we did.' 
 
 Now hearing this said by one and another, 
 made me look a little closer at this narrow 
 way. Then I saw that those who set out on 
 it, found mostly a few paces of easy walking 
 just when they had squeezed through, and 
 then that the path did get very narrow. 
 
 I heard one and another groan when the 
 thorns tore his flesh, and there was hardly 
 any one whom they did not tear sometimes. 
 Those who got in young, as they passed the 
 most easily through the gate, so they seemed 
 to be getting on the best now they were in, 
 and generally I could see that they who
 
 THE TWO ROADS. 59 
 
 pressed on most earnestly found the way the 
 easiest, and got the fewest rubs. But if any 
 one began to loiter or to look back, he was in 
 the thorns in a moment ; and once in, no one 
 could tell when they would get clear ; for first 
 they were torn on this side, and then on that ; 
 and even when they did get clear, they always 
 seemed to enter on one of those dark places 
 of the road through which they went sighing, 
 and groaning, and stumbling, like men in a 
 sore trouble and distress. 
 
 Many were so frightened by all this, that 
 they turned straight back, and fled towards 
 the narrow wicket, which then opened wide, 
 and led them out too easily. 
 
 Now I had a great curiosity to see how 
 these roads went on : and as I watched the 
 walkers in the narrow road, I saw first that 
 those who got on quickly, were often looking 
 down to a book which they held in their 
 hands, and then again looking up, as if to the 
 heaven over their head. When first I saw one
 
 60 THE TWO ROADS. 
 
 of them look down, I thought he would surely 
 miss the track, and be in a moment in the 
 thorns ; but instead of this, it seemed as if 
 he thus kept on straighter and quicker than 
 ever. While I was musing upon this, I heard 
 one of them read out of his book, ' Thy word 
 is a light unto my feet, and a lamp unto my 
 paths.' And another seemed to answer him 
 at the moment by reading out, * Through thy 
 commandments I get understanding, therefore 
 I hate every evil way.' I saw too that in- 
 stead of the way getting narrower, and more 
 rough and thorny, it grew always easier, and 
 smoother, and broader. To those who had 
 come in young, it was very soon plain and 
 pleasant; and though to the others it was 
 longer rough, and they came here and there 
 to a fresh set of thorns, yet it was plain that 
 they got along much more easily than they 
 had done. Some who had been always in the 
 thorns on the one side or the other, were now 
 walking steadily along ; and some seemed
 
 As I watched the walkers in the narrow road, I saw 
 
 that those who got on quickly were often looking down to a book 
 
 which they held in their hands, and then again looking up, 
 
 as if to the heaven over their head.
 
 THE TWO EOADS. 61 
 
 almost flying, they moved so quickly by, and 
 so easily. Flowers too began to blossom 
 round them ; the thorns turned often into 
 sweet bunches of roses and woodbine ; clus- 
 ters, too, of ripe grapes, of which they eat 
 just enough to refresh their lips, hung liere 
 and there in their way ; and the birds began 
 to sing sweetly to them. 
 
 No one now talked of turning back, but 
 busy as they seemed in pressing on, I thought 
 they looked already happy ; some indeed were 
 joyous, and all were cheerful; and I over- 
 heard one and another sing cheerily, ' Her 
 ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her 
 paths are peace.' 
 
 And now I could see but a little way 
 before them, a bright and cheerful light which 
 shone upon their road. As one and another 
 entered into it, I lost sight of them ; but I 
 could hear by their last words which reached 
 me, that they were then happier than ever. 
 Some were singing holy songs, as if to the
 
 62 THE TWO ROADS. 
 
 sound of harps and music of all kinds ; some 
 were nearly silent, but the little they did sing 
 came from hearts full of joy ; and I doubted 
 not that what I could not see beyond, was 
 even happier and better than that I had seen. 
 I could scarcely bear to turn away my 
 eyes from these happy people, to look at those 
 who had chosen the other path ; and when I 
 did so I was soon full of sorrow. For when 
 I came to look more closely, I saw that even 
 at the first, where they looked the merriest, 
 there was hardly one amongst them who was 
 thoroughly happy. The mirth, too, which 
 they had, died away as they went further. 
 If one stooped to gather the fruit or the 
 flowers, they faded away as soon as he had 
 them in his hand, or turned into dust and 
 ashes as soon as they reached his lips. The 
 saddest of all were those who had once set 
 out along the other road; they were ever 
 turning round as if something affrighted 
 them, or else pushing on madly as if they
 
 THE TWO ROADS. 63 
 
 were running away from thought; and I 
 could see, on looking closely, that the thorns 
 still stuck in them and festered, and pricked 
 them afresh at almost every turn. But 
 though these were the saddest, yet as they 
 went on, all grew sad. Gloom and darkness 
 came over those faces which had been the 
 merriest. They were also ever falling out 
 with one another, and so making matters 
 worse. 
 
 When I saw them all so sad, I wondered 
 that none thought of turning back and trying 
 the other road. I soon found out a cause 
 for this ; for just as I was looking, I saw one 
 try to turn; and lo, though he had been 
 walking well and easily the other way, now 
 I saw that he could scarcely stand. His feet 
 slipped, his knees trembled, and he seemed 
 all at once as weak as a young child : soon 
 he slipped quite down ; and as he lay bruised 
 and groaning on the ground, those around 
 him mocked and jeered at him ! and I thought
 
 64 THE TWO ROADS. 
 
 he would have risen no more when, lifting 
 his eyes up to heaven, he seemed to call for 
 help, and then just scrambling up on his 
 hands and knees, he got a few steps further, 
 only to fall again, and groan again for help. 
 At last, however, his feet steadied, and I saw 
 him after many hard struggles reach the gate 
 and push through it in spite of the crowd 
 of people, who were thronging in and would 
 scarce let him pass ; and he fled to the narrow 
 gate and pressed through it, and went on 
 along the path, though its thorns seemed to 
 tear him at every step, and the way was 
 darker than I had ever seen it yet ; but still 
 he pressed on like a man flying for his life ; 
 and I never took my eyes off him till at last 
 he got into the easier and lightsome stage of 
 his new journey. 
 
 But for the rest who did not turn, it was 
 a heart-breaking thing to look at them. For 
 sooner or later they all got into a thick black 
 darkness, which was now spread all over
 
 As he lay bruised and groaning on the ground, those 
 
 .H ..mi, I him mocked and jeered at him ; and I thought he would have risen 
 
 no more when lifting his eyes up to heaven, he seemed to 
 
 call fr help.
 
 THE TWO ROADS. 65 
 
 what had once been their gay and cheerful 
 road ; and then I could see that they were 
 parted from their friends, though they were 
 most afraid of being alone ; and then I knew 
 that some worse thing befel them ; for though 
 I saw them not, I heard their cries and 
 screams. They were exceeding loud and 
 bitter, but they brought them no help, for 
 they cried when there was none to hear ; but 
 they were so loud and bitter that I thought 
 I could not bear to hear them ; and so in my 
 trouble I woke, and behold it was a dream. 
 
 1. What text does this dream bring into 
 your mind ? 
 
 * Enter ye in at the strait gate : for wide 
 is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth 
 to destruction, and many there be which go 
 in thereat. Because strait is the gate and 
 narrow is the way that leadeth unto life : and 
 il-\v there be that find it' (Matt. vii. 13, 14). 
 
 2. What makes the way so narrow to us ?
 
 66 THE TWO ROADS. 
 
 Our sins, which we must deny and fight 
 against. 
 
 3. What are the thorns along the way ? 
 The trials and difficulties of living as a 
 
 Christian. 
 
 4. To whom is the way easiest ? 
 
 To those who enter on it in youth and 
 childhood. 
 
 5. What does it get to those who go on 
 in it? 
 
 Easy and pleasant. 
 
 * Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and 
 all her paths are peace' (Prov. iii. 17). 
 
 6. What does it end in ? 
 Everlasting joys. 
 
 7. What are the flowers along the broad 
 way ? 
 
 ' The pleasures of sin.' 
 
 8. Why do they fade ? 
 
 Because they are but 'for a season 5 (Heb. 
 x. 25). 
 
 9. What are the thorns which fester
 
 THE TWO ROADS. 67 
 
 and prick those who have left the narrow 
 way? 
 
 The reproofs of conscience. 
 
 10. "What is the joy of sinners like ? 
 
 * The crackling of thorns under the pot' 
 ^Eccles. vii. 6). 
 
 11. What is the end of the broad way ? 
 Everlasting burnings.
 
 VII. 
 
 THE SPRING MORNING. 
 
 IN a fresli and beautiful garden, full of every 
 gay, and sweet- smelling flower, I saw a merry 
 party happily at play. Four boys made up 
 the group ; they were all of nearly the same 
 size and age, and their light hearts laughed 
 in their glad eyes, as they ran here and there 
 in their sports and frolics. The very birds 
 in the trees over them scarcely seemed happier 
 than they now chasing one another amongst 
 the shrubs, now following some gay butterfly 
 which floated by them on its blue and golden 
 wings, now sitting by a murmuring stream 
 which ran through the bottom of the garden, 
 or refreshing themselves with the wood straw- 
 berries, whose ripe red berries shone upon 
 its banks.
 
 He called the boys round him, and began to speak to (hen
 
 THE SPRING MORNING. 69 
 
 Whilst I was watching their sports, de- 
 lighted with their gaiety, I saw the figure of 
 a man coming to them from amongst the 
 trees which bordered the garden. He went 
 and sat down in the shade, called the boys 
 round him, and began to speak to them. 
 There was something most kind and tender 
 in this man's face and voice, grave though it 
 was ; and as he spoke I could see that one 
 or two of the boys looked very steadily at 
 him, as if they wanted to catch every word 
 that he said. None of them seemed careless, 
 but one looked as if his spirit would come 
 out through his eyes, so did he fix them on 
 that grave kind face. 
 
 Then I thought that I drew near to the 
 group, for they were not disturbed by my 
 coming, and I listened to the words which 
 were spoken to the boys. 
 
 * This,' I heard the man saying as I came 
 near, * This is the garden I have told you of. 
 It is, as you see, a very gay pretty place, and
 
 70 THE SPRING MOENING. 
 
 one that you boys can be very happy in for a 
 few hours' play. But it is not a place that 
 you can stay in. All its pleasant sights would 
 soon turn into terrors. The flowers would 
 wither round you, one by one the birds would 
 cease to sing. Your happy spirits would go 
 you would try to keep up your play, but 
 it would grow into a business all the sweet 
 fruits would become bitter to your taste the 
 water of the stream would lose its freshness 
 you would alter too and then, as you lost 
 your pleasure in play, you would begin to 
 teaze one another and be unhappy ; and then, 
 worst of all, when the sun began to set, you 
 would hear the roaring of many wild beasts 
 all around you ; as it grew darker you would 
 see their fierce eyes glaring out of the bushes, 
 from which now the sweet birds sing to you ; 
 and whilst you were trembling with fear, 
 some of them would spring upon you and 
 devour you. 
 
 ' So that though this is a beautiful garden
 
 THE SPRING MORNING. 71 
 
 for an hour's play in the morning, it is not 
 your home, and you must not try to make 
 it so. Your home, as I have told you, is not 
 very far before you. Between this garden 
 and it there lies a waste and dreary-looking 
 space, with some steep hills to climb, some 
 hot places to pass, some slippery ways to walk 
 over ; but there is nothing to harm you if 
 you will follow my directions. I have myself 
 passed over it, and you may trace my foot- 
 marks all along the way the deepest always 
 and the plainest where there is any trouble 
 or danger ; and when you have passed this 
 plain and reached your home, then you may 
 indeed be happy. For there are gardens 
 sweeter far than this ; there the birds make 
 a never-ceasing music ; there darkness never 
 puts out the light ; there are no evil beasts 
 to harm you ; there none are ever tired ; but 
 you shall be always happy ; for all that are 
 there love one another, and have all given to 
 them that their hearts can desire/
 
 72 THE SPRING MOENING. 
 
 Then I saw that the eyes of the little boy 
 who was listening so eagerly, sparkled brighter 
 than ever, and a sweet smile came over his 
 countenance, as he thought of that Chappy 
 place. Then a happy grave look followed the 
 smile, and I heard him say to the man, as 
 tears filled his eyes, ' And shall I see in that 
 beautiful garden, my father, and my mother, 
 and my sister, who are gone before me ?' 
 * Yes,' said the man, looking kindly into the 
 child's face, ' if you reach that garden safely, 
 there you will see them again, and nothing 
 can ever part you more.' 
 
 * But now,' he went on, * hear how you 
 are to reach it : First, take care and lose 
 no time in setting out for it. Though this 
 garden is beautiful and sweet, and the way 
 you have to go is barren and steep, yet do not 
 stay here, but set out at once. It is much 
 easier to pass that road in the early morning. 
 Even if you wait to the middle of the day it 
 will grow harder, for then the sun will be
 
 THE SPRING MORNING. 73 
 
 hot, and the fresh dew will have dried off the 
 green grass, and the hills will seem steeper 
 to climb, and then perhaps you will grow 
 weary, and halt till evening, and then it is 
 dangerous ; and the storms may gather, and 
 the brooks you have to cross may swell ; and 
 if night should overtake you, you are lost. 
 Then you would surely lose the foot- track, 
 and either the miry places would swallow 
 you up, or the fierce beasts that haunt that 
 country would break out upon you, and you 
 would certainly be devoured by some of 
 them. 
 
 'This, then, is my first direction: Set 
 out at once, for the road is surest and safest 
 in the morning; and for the next, here are 
 two gifts to help you on your journey. Here 
 is a reed-flute ; it is a small thing to look at, 
 but do not despise it, for it will be a great 
 help to you. If you see any of the wild beasts 
 of the plain prowling about, and sometimes 
 they will venture out even in the day, play a
 
 74 THE SPRING MOENING. 
 
 few notes upon it, and they will surely leave 
 you ; or if you doubt about your way, play 
 upon it, and the foot-track will come out 
 again clear before your eyes ; or if you are 
 so weary that you are ready to forget the 
 beautiful garden and rest at the end, play 
 upon this, and the thought of the end will 
 come fresh again upon your mind, and make 
 you able to bear the toil.' So he gave each 
 one of them a little reed-flute, which he called 
 ' Prayer,' and showed them how to play upon 
 it. Now they were common.-looking flutes, 
 but when they were touched by the breath, 
 methought the music they sent forth was 
 most sweet and piercing. When the little 
 Agape especially (for that -was the name of 
 the boy who had asked whether he should 
 see his father and his mother in the garden) 
 when Agape put his to his lips, it sent out 
 notes sweeter than the nightingale's. Then 
 the man gave them each a small bottle fall of 
 what looked like the clearest water, and he
 
 THE SPRING MORNING. 75 
 
 said, ' If you are at any time greatly weary 
 with the way, take out this bottle and drink 
 a few drops of its living water, and you will 
 again be fresh and hearty. And now/ he 
 said, ' farewell : I shall meet again in the 
 happy garden all those who get there safely ;' 
 and so saying, he rose up, and walked slowly 
 away from them until he was lost among the 
 shadows of the trees from which he had come 
 out. 
 
 Then I saw the little boys sit still for 
 awhile, as if they were thinking over the 
 words that he had spoken ; their echo seemed 
 still to be speaking to them in the silence, 
 and no one liked to be the first to disturb it. 
 At last one of them, named Edone, began : 
 * "Well, what do you say ? of course we must 
 all get away from this place before long, but 
 I should like to have a little more play in it 
 first.' 
 
 * So should I,' said Argia, ' and to sit a 
 little longer on this hill, and eat a few more
 
 76 THE SPRING MORNING. 
 
 of these refreshing strawberries before we set 
 out on the long tiring journey. What say 
 you, Astathes ?' 
 
 ' I hardly know what to say ; you see we 
 were so much advised to set out directly.' 
 ' Yes,' added Edone ; ' I do not mean to be 
 late, but there can be no use in being in such 
 a great hurry. It is quite morning now ; if 
 we were to play for another hour, and then 
 rest a little, we should still be early ; and I 
 do not believe the sun will be any hotter then, 
 and perhaps it will cloud over, or the wind 
 will get up, and then you know, it will be 
 cooler instead of hotter.' 
 
 ' So it may, indeed,' replied Astathes, 
 * and I do not know why we should be in a 
 hurry ; but what do you say, Agape ?' 
 
 ' That I mean to set out directly ; and so 
 I hope you will too. Think how happy we 
 should be to get to that beautiful home early ; 
 and then, remember how we were told, more 
 than once, that the earlier we set out, the
 
 THE SPRING MOENING. 77 
 
 easier it would be to us to travel ; and I 
 should have no pleasure in playing here, for 
 thinking that the time was getting on and 
 that I had all my journey to go.' 
 
 ' I believe you are right/ said Astathes ; 
 ' so if you are for setting out directly, I think 
 I shall go with you.' 
 
 'Well, then,' said the other, 'let us be 
 off directly, for every minute seems long to 
 me now.' So he took his reed-flute, and hung 
 his clear bottle at his side, and set out, and 
 Astathes with him, for the side of the garden 
 towards the plain. Then Edone and Argia 
 began to laugh at them, and say, 'What a 
 hurry you are in ; we shall be there as soon 
 as you, and have all the Treasure of playing 
 here too.' 
 
 Then Astathes halted a little, and seemed 
 ready to sit down again ; but Agape took him 
 by the hand, and away they began to walk. 
 But Edonti grew angry at their going, and 
 changed from laughing to scolding ; and then
 
 78 THE SPRING MORNING. 
 
 seeing they minded not that either, he took 
 up stones, and began to throw at them. 
 Astathes was for stopping again to speak with 
 him; but Agape took his hand again, and 
 said, * See, the sun is getting high over the 
 hills, even now ; let us push on, soon we shall 
 be out of the reach of his stones.' But see- 
 ing Astathes still frightened, he said, * Let us 
 try if the flute will help us ;' so he played 
 two or three notes of sweet music, and it 
 seemed that directly they had got out of reach 
 of the stones, and heard no more of the bad 
 language which had troubled them. 
 
 So they walked on together, and began 
 talking as little boys might talk. * Oh, Agape,' 
 said Astathes, ' I wonder how long the jour- 
 ney will take us, I long to get safely to its end.' 
 
 * I hardly dare think yet of its end,' said 
 the other, ' for we have only just set out, but 
 I too long to get to the end.' 
 
 ' What a fine place that garden must be.' 
 Yes, and there I shah 1 see again my father
 
 THE SPRING MORNING. 79 
 
 and mother, and the kind sister who used 
 to nurse me when I was little ; and there we 
 shall see the king of the country, who is kind 
 to children, and loves to have them come and 
 live with him.' 
 
 So they talked ; and now they had come 
 nearly to the waste, and first looked out 
 into it. 
 
 * It looks very dreary and rough, Agape,' 
 said he. 
 
 ' Oh ! never mind its looking rough, I can 
 see already a pathway through the thorns 
 which frighten you.' 
 
 * Well, if you were not with me, I think 
 even now I should turn back.' 
 
 * Never speak of turning back,' said Agape, 
 and just then he reached the last stile which 
 parted the garden from the waste. Lightly 
 he sprung over it, and was setting out on the 
 waste without thinking of looking behind, 
 when he heard the voice of Astathes, who 
 had not yet crossed the stile.
 
 80 THE SPEING MORNING. 
 
 ' Wait a minute, Agape, I want to gather 
 some of this fruit to take with us, we shall 
 have none, I can see, on the waste/ 
 
 e No, no, dear Astathes, do not stop for the 
 fruit, we shall find what we want on the way.* 
 
 ' But it looks so very barren.' 
 
 * See, here is a good path, do not stop any 
 longer, or I must go without you.' 
 
 'Well, I will only gather a few more 
 bunches of this fruit, and then I shall over- 
 take you.' 
 
 Agape walked on a little, and then hear- 
 ing Astathes call, he stopped again to speak 
 to him. 
 
 ' Why, how fast you get on, I am afraid I 
 shall never keep up with you. I think I shall 
 just stop behind, and come after you with 
 Argia and Edone; you know they are only 
 staying a little behind.' 
 
 Once more Agape begged him to come, 
 and once he almost persuaded him; he 
 climbed half up the stile, but then he let
 
 Ho climliril half up the stile, but then he let himscll 
 
 ilmvn again the vrong side, and then he stood leaning against it, and 
 
 gazing at Agape, who was already almost out of sight 
 
 over the first hill.
 
 THE SPRING MORNING. 81 
 
 himself down again the wrong side, and then 
 he stood leaning 'against it, and gazing at 
 Agape, who N was already almost out of sight 
 over the first hill. So he stood for a time, 
 and then when he could see no more of Agape, 
 and could hear nothing of the others, the 
 stillness of the place began to frighten him ; 
 and so after a while he stole back again to 
 Edone and Argia, who were still sitting on 
 the pleasant bajik, eating strawberries. 
 
 ' So, here is one coming back again !' 
 cried Edone, who was the first to see him ; 
 and he began to laugh at him for the hurry 
 in which he set off. Soon, however, they 
 were good friends again ; only Astathes would 
 not join in laughing at Agape, for in his heart 
 he wished now that he had held on with him. 
 
 Then they thought that they would begin 
 again to play together for a while, as they 
 had done at first ; but whether it was that 
 the sun had got higher, and the air was too 
 hot for play, or whether it was that the going 
 
 6
 
 83 TEE SPRING MORNING. 
 
 away of Agape had made them all dull, I know 
 not, but they never were able to play as they 
 had done. They were loud, but they were 
 not merry ; and as the sun rose higher and 
 higher, they grew more and more tired of 
 play and of one another. Then they sat down 
 upon the bank to refresh themselves with the 
 strawberries ; but they had got hot too, and 
 there was no refreshment in them ; and 
 Astathes began to think of what the kind 
 grave man had said to them, and to wish in 
 his heart more and more that he had gone 
 with Agape. So as these thoughts passed 
 through his mind, he said to his two com- 
 panions, 'Had we not better be thinking 
 about setting off;" he spoke as if he was half 
 afraid to say it, and Argia sleepily answered, 
 ' Why ! the sun is just at the hottest now, 
 surely you would not think of going now, we 
 shall all be burned up with its heat.' But 
 Edone looked angry, and said quite crossly, 
 ' I wish you had taken yourself off with that
 
 THE SPRING MOBNTNG. 83 
 
 fool Agape, and not stayed here to teaze us 
 about going.' 
 
 ' I am sure I wish I had,' he answered 
 sadly enough, at which Edonfc got quite into 
 a passion, and declared he should not stay 
 with them any longer, for that he spoiled all 
 their pleasure ; so they drove him away, and 
 he wandered very sadly along the path in 
 which he had set out with Agape, till he came 
 to the stile leading to the waste. Over this 
 he looked out, and it seemed more barren 
 and thorny than ever ; the sun was very hot, 
 and there was not a breath of wind ; and all 
 up the hill-side there was nothing to give him 
 the least shelter ; and the pathway by which 
 Agapfc had gone in the morning seemed 
 narrower than ever, so that sometimes he 
 could not see it at all, but all looked like a wall 
 of thorns, through which he never could make 
 his way ; and as he looked out, he wept, for 
 his heart sunk down within him. 
 
 But where, all this time, was Agape ? He
 
 84 THE SPRING MOBNING. 
 
 had felt lonely enough "when first Astathes 
 had stayed behind ; and as he climbed the 
 first hill, he felt its steep steps heavy travel- 
 ling ; he felt too that he was quite alone, and 
 that he was but a weak child after all ; so 
 finding his heart beginning to faint, he pulled 
 out his sweet-voiced flute to help his flagging 
 steps, and played some sweet music upon it ; 
 and as he played, it seemed as if heavenly 
 words went along with the music, and they 
 said, " In the waste howling wilderness he 
 compassed him about" (Deut. xxxii. 10). 
 Then he thought of the king, and his heart 
 was lifted up, and straightway he was at the 
 top of the hill. Now his path lay for a while 
 down hill ; and he stepped on cheerfully and 
 easily, until he came into a low green bottom; 
 here a stream ran across his path ; he could 
 see that sometimes after rain it was swelled 
 very high, and there were marks put, to show 
 the traveller who should come by at such 
 seasons, how he might pass without being
 
 THE SPBING MORNING. 85 
 
 swept away. But it was low now, and there 
 was no danger, so Agape stepped easily over 
 the stones that were laid in it, and gained the 
 other side. Now as he pushed on, the sun 
 grew higher and higher in the heavens, and 
 Agap& began to feel faint and weary ; then he 
 saw a soft green bank, and two or three 
 bushes threw a pleasant shade upon it, and 
 he was tempted to sit down upon it, and 
 sleep awhile. But as he drew near it, look- 
 ing carefully, he saw a snake lying in the 
 grass, which startled him ; so then he remem- 
 bered himself, and he saw that the deep foot- 
 steps of his guide had passed that bank by, 
 and he thought, * Perhaps if I had fallen asleep 
 there, I had never waked again. No, I will 
 push on to my journey's end rest, rest, in 
 the beautiful garden.* But as the sun still 
 scorched him, he thought of the bottle, and 
 drawing it out he took two or three drops 
 from it, and as he drunk, his ears seemed to 
 be filled with these kind words, * The sun shall
 
 86 THE SPRING MORNING. 
 
 not smite thee by day, neither the moon by 
 night' (Psalm cxxi. 6). So he looked up, 
 and saw just before him a grove of tall trees, 
 and that his road lay under them. Right glad 
 was he of their shelter, and of the breeze which 
 blew gently through them, waving their high 
 tops, and fanning his hot brow with its fresh 
 breath. Now he made way easily, and swiftly ; 
 and as he walked along, he could look around 
 him into the wood, and as he looked, he saw 
 that on all sides of his path there were snares, 
 and gins, and pitfalls, and sometimes the 
 ground was all tumbled and torn by the 
 mouth of the pitfalls, as if some one had 
 fallen in and struggled mightily at the mouth 
 to save himself; and once or twice he saw in 
 the gins and snares, what looked like the 
 whitened bones of travellers who had been 
 caught in them. Then was he more thankful 
 than ever that he had passed through this 
 wood before it was nightfall, for How/ he 
 said to himself, f if it was but twilight, how
 
 THE SPRING MORNING. 87 
 
 should I possibly escape these dangers ?' 
 With such thoughts he passed along ; and 
 now when he was nearly out of the wood, he 
 saw something creeping on towards him from 
 the left hand of the path. He kept his eyes 
 watchfully fixed upon it, for fear of any evil, 
 for he was a watchful child. Soon he saw 
 that it was indeed a very fearful beast, and in 
 another moment he knew that it was a great 
 lion ; already he could see that the lion's eye 
 was upon him, and his long white teeth were 
 gnashing, and he was just ready to spring 
 upon him. Then for a moment the boy's 
 heart sunk quite low, and he was ready to 
 give all over for lost, when the thought of his 
 flute came into his mind, and taking it quickly 
 out of his bosom, he played a few earnest 
 notes upon it. As soon as the notes of the 
 flute were heard, the lion turned round and 
 dashed away into the thicket ; and Agape saw 
 him no;more, but instead of his loud angry 
 growl, it seemed as if the refreshing breeze in
 
 S3 THE SPRING MORNING. 
 
 the tree-tops formed itself into words, and it 
 said to him, ' Watch and pray, that ye enter 
 not into temptation.' 'Kesist the devil, and 
 he shall flee from you.' 
 
 Then Agape passed out of the wood, and 
 as he came out of it, he could see before 
 him in the distance, for the first time, the 
 gate of the beautiful gardens, golden and 
 shining ; and within he thought he could see 
 some heavenly figures, and he fancied that 
 perhaps they were his sister, and his father, 
 and his mother, looking out upon his weary 
 steps as he journeyed over the waste. His 
 heart yearned after them, but his feet were 
 weary, and the sun smote upon his head, and 
 it seemed the hotter for the pleasant shade 
 which he had left. Then, as he was tempted 
 to turn back again to the wood, he saw plainly 
 marked upon the road the beloved foot-prints ; 
 and forthwith taking courage, he drew out his 
 flute and played, and so pressed more cheer- 
 fully along the road. He had not travelled
 
 THE SPRING MORNING. 89 
 
 far, when he saw by the road-side a pleasant 
 arbour ; and though the footsteps had passed 
 it by, he saw it written up in the writing of 
 the king, that here it was lawful for weary 
 travellers to rest awhile. So being foot-sore 
 and worn, here he sat him down and drew out 
 his bottle, and refreshed himself with its living 
 water. Then as he sat, the heavens clouded 
 over, and a mighty storm swept by ; the rain 
 fell in torrents, and he could hear the wild 
 beasts in the wood that he had left, roar and 
 moan, but they came not near him ; and after 
 awhile, the storm passed over, the sky cleared 
 airain over head, and he set out on his way. 
 The sun was now passed its mid-height, and 
 there was a pleasant air beating on his brow. 
 So Agape moved on speedily, and by the rate 
 at which he was going, it would not be long 
 before he reached the golden gates of the 
 happy gardens. 
 
 But where, all this while was Astathes, 
 whom we left looking over the stile into the
 
 90 THE SPEING MORNING. 
 
 waste that lay towards the garden ? Long 
 did he stand there bewailing his folly, that he 
 had not gone with Agape, until at last, look- 
 ing up into the sky, he saw that the sun was 
 past mid-day, and he thought how soon it 
 would hasten to set, and therefore that he 
 must at once begin his journey, unless he 
 would give up all hopes. So, gathering all 
 his courage he sprang over the stile. But he 
 had almost turned back again as soon as he 
 had set out, so sorely was he pricked by the 
 thorns. Either the way was really narrower 
 than it had been in the morning, or he did not 
 tread so steadily as Agape : for where he had 
 almost run, Astathes could now scarcely 
 creep. A little, however, he did get on, 
 though with many a rub and tear, and his 
 feet and ankles were bleeding and wounded. 
 Now, too, the path began to rise up the steep, 
 and the sun was striking so hot upon his 
 back, that he was ready to faint. Then he 
 thought of his bottle, and he drew it out ;
 
 THE SPKING MORNING. 91 
 
 but it had been corked so long, that the cork 
 had got fixed so firmly in, it was long before 
 he could stir it, or get the least drop from it. 
 At last, however, he did, and * Afterwards he 
 repented and went,' seemed to come with a 
 promise of acceptance upon his spirit. And 
 now he had not yet reached the top of the 
 hill, when the storm that overtook Agape safe 
 in the king's arbour, fell upon him on the 
 bare hill- side. Heavily did it beat upon him, 
 as the rain fell in torrents, and the fierce 
 gusts of the whirlwind swept by him, and the 
 pealing thunder-clouds seemed to come quite 
 down all around him. The ground, too, 
 under his feet became miry with the rain, so 
 that he fell back almost as much as he gained, 
 and often slipped quite down into the dirt, 
 bruising and wounding himself sorely. At 
 last, however, he reached the top, and down 
 the other side of the slope he got on some- 
 thing better ; though there, too, he slipped 
 about, and got more than one shrewd fall
 
 92 THE SPRING MORNING. 
 
 But when lie came to the bottom of the slope, 
 sorely was he put to it. The stream over 
 which Agape had passed so easily in the 
 morning, was now swelled into a roaring 
 torrent, and it dashed along, foaming, and 
 boiling, and eddying, carrying all along in its 
 course. 
 
 Poor Astathes ! What shall he do ? either 
 he must venture into the stream, or he must 
 give up for ever the rest of the happy garden. 
 Just then he spied the posts which were set 
 to guard travellers in the time of floods. So 
 plucking up a little courage, he began to creep 
 along by them. First, the water was ankle- 
 deep, then it got knee-deep, then it rushed by 
 his waist, and still the boy kept on, holding 
 by the posts ; another step, and it covered 
 his shoulders, and lifted his feet from the 
 ground. Firmly he held on to the post, or 
 he had been quite swept away by the stream, 
 and carried down with it and drowned. When 
 at last he gained his feet again, he knew not
 
 First the water was ankle-deep, then it got knee-deep, 
 
 then it rushed by his waist, and still the boy kept on, holding by 
 
 the posts : another step, and it covered his shoulders. 
 
 and lifted his feet from the ground.
 
 THE SPRING MOBNING. 93 
 
 what to do. He was not nearly through the 
 stream, and what if the next step he took, he 
 should lose footing of the bottom altogether, 
 and the waters should pass over him, and he 
 should perish ? Then, first, he thought of 
 his flute, and he said within himself, * Per- 
 chance this may help me.' With sore trouble 
 he drew it out, and tried to make some music 
 upon it ; but not a note could he sound. Then 
 he saw that either in his many falls as he came 
 along, or else whilst he was playing idly in 
 the garden, the earth had got into his flute 
 and almost stopped up its small holes, so that 
 no sound could pass. Here, however, the 
 waters helped him, and by the time that he 
 was almost benumbed, he had got the flute 
 clear enough to be able to waken on it a few 
 poor notes and so soon as its sound was 
 heard, the waters began to sink, and the child 
 thought that he heard a sweet voice amongst 
 their roaring. He could hardly hear what it 
 said, but he thought it was this ' When thou
 
 94 THE SPUING MOENING. 
 
 passest through the floods they shall not over- 
 flow thee.' Then did he dare put forth his 
 foot again to try another step, and he found 
 that he was already at the deepest part ; so 
 clinging close to the posts, and much fearing 
 still, lest there should be any ugly holes before 
 him into which he might fall and be lost, but 
 still saying over to himself the words that he 
 had heard, he crept through and climbed, 
 faint and weary, up the other side. When he 
 reached it, he sunk down upon the grass, 
 so cold and numbed and tired was he ; and 
 there he might have laid till he died, if he had 
 not thought upon his precious bottle, which 
 soon so far revived him, that again he girded 
 up his strength, and passed on towards the 
 wood. 
 
 Just at this very time Agape was reach- 
 ing the golden gates ; the sun had not quite 
 set, but it hung just over the top of the far 
 hills, and shot a red golden brightness over 
 everything. Eich and Deautiful did those
 
 THE SPRING MORNING. 95 
 
 gates shine out before the glad eyes of happy 
 Agape. Now he could see plainly multitudes 
 of heavenly creatures passing about within, 
 wearing light as a garment, and crowns that 
 looked like living fire. At times, too, he 
 could hear bursts of ravishing music, which 
 the garden seemed always to be sending up on 
 high, and some few notes of which strayed out 
 even into the pathway of the plain. 
 
 And now he stood before the gate ; full 
 was his heart of hope and fear a pleasant 
 liappy fear, as if too much joy lay close before 
 him. Now all the troubles of the way were 
 over ; and as he looked back, it seemed but 
 a little moment since he had left the beautiful, 
 but deceiving garden in the morning, and all 
 his troubles seemed light. The scorching of 
 the sun he remembered no more the weary 
 hill-side, the gin-set forest, and the lion's 
 paws, all these seemed little now, and he only 
 thought of them to thank the king who had 
 brought him so safely through all. As he
 
 06 THE SPRING MOJJNING. 
 
 lifted up his eyes to do so, they lighted upon a 
 golden writing which was hung over the gate. 
 So he read the writing, and it was, ' Knock, 
 and it shall be opened.' Then did he indeed 
 draw in a deep breath, as one does before 
 doing some great thing, and knocked with all 
 his force ; and so as soon as he knocked, the 
 golden door began to open, and the happy boy 
 entered the garden. 
 
 What awaited him there, it is not given 
 me to tell ; but from the blessed sounds which 
 fell upon my ear as the gate rolled back, I may 
 not doubt that he was entirely happy, for it 
 was as if the sound of a sea of heavenly voices 
 suddenly swept by me. 
 
 Just as Agape reached the golden door, 
 Astathes was entering on the wood. As he 
 turned into it he saw the sun sink below the 
 far-off hills. Twilight came fast on, and he 
 soon found it very hard to trace out the path ; 
 so thick were the branches over head, and so 
 faint and feeble the remaining light. More
 
 THE SPRING MOBNIXG. 97 
 
 than once he was on the very brink of a deep 
 pit-fall, and only saved himself from falling in 
 by catching at the bushes which grew round 
 its mouth. More than once, too, did he get 
 his foot entangled in those gins and snares 
 wherewith the side of the path was full, and 
 only escaped from them grazed and hurt by the 
 sharp teeth of the biting traps. On all sides 
 of him, too, wild beasts were roaring. Now 
 had that come true, of which in the morning 
 he had been warned, that out of every bush, 
 instead of the liquid notes of sweet singing 
 birds, there should gleam forth upon him the 
 fiery eyes of savage monsters thirsting for his 
 blood. As he heard their deep roars, or, more 
 near to him, the savage snapping of their 
 sharp teeth ; as he saw their fiery eyes, and 
 almost felt the brushing of their soft or wiry 
 hides, he felt, more than ever before, how 
 foolish he had been in losing the morning 
 hours, and not passing through the wood 
 whilst the sun was high. His escaping all 
 
 7
 
 98 THE SPEING MORNING. 
 
 these dangers was a wonder above the power 
 of man. But as he went into the wood, he had 
 taken his flute out of his bosom, and though 
 he could -not draw from it such music as came 
 from the breath of Agape on his, yet now, by 
 care and trouble, it was much freed from its 
 earthly hindrances, and made a low clear 
 music. All the wood through did Astathes 
 keep playing on the flute, never was it from 
 his lips; and though he woke from it no 
 sounds of pleasure, or of triumph, yet it doubt- 
 less saved him from the fierce jaws which on 
 every side were gaping for him, and he passed 
 out of the wood in safety. But when he entered 
 on the plains beyond, no such clear sight of 
 the golden gates, or the happy gardens, glad- 
 dened his eyes as Agape had seen. Perchance 
 in the twilight there was a little brightness 
 thereabouts, but it was dull and uncertain ; 
 and after his frights in the wood, the boy's 
 heart would have fainted wholly within him, if 
 it had not been for the precious bottle with
 
 THE SPKIXG MORNING. 99 
 
 \vliicli he moistened his parched lips. ' He 
 shall make thy darkness to be light;' the 
 waving boughs of the trees then seemed to 
 murmur to him, as he walked from under their 
 shelter ; and this raised his spirits, so that he 
 again set forth. Now was he by the arbour, 
 but the twilight was too far advanced for him 
 to see it, or to rest therein. So, weary and 
 distressed, he pressed forward, until at length 
 a ' light rose upon his darkness ;' for he, too, 
 as he drew nearer to the golden gates, was 
 soothed with some soft sounds of mercy, until 
 with a beating heart, and a straining eye, he 
 seized the golden knocker, and oh, joy of joys ! 
 the gate opened for his entrance, and Astathes, 
 poor wavering Astathes himself, of the king's 
 bounteous goodness, entered the heavenly 
 garden. 
 
 But what, all this day through, were 
 Edone and Argia doing ? 
 
 After they had driven Astathes from them 
 they sat for a while longer on the same grassy
 
 100 THE SPRING MORNING. 
 
 bank, dreamily doing nothing. Then as the 
 sun grew hotter and hotter, Argia fell asleep, 
 and Edone strolled some way from him to 
 gather the rich-looking ripe fruit which hung 
 from a tree a little further on ; there he sat 
 for hours eating the fruit, and throwing the 
 stones playfully from him, whilst Argia still 
 slept on in the pleasant shade, until the sun 
 was beginning to set. Just at that moment 
 Edone saw a fierce beast coming nigh to 
 Argia. He thought it very shocking to see 
 his friend eaten up by the beast, but he was 
 much more afraid -for himself, and he thought 
 that if he called to wake up Argia, the beast 
 might perhaps turn upon him instead. So 
 he tried, without making any noise, to steal 
 away into the wood. The beast came up to 
 Argia, who slept so soundly that he seemed 
 to be dead ; when just at that moment Edone 
 shook the bushes as he fled away. The evil 
 beast looked up, and seeing Edone, he sprung 
 like lightning after him, and Argia was first
 
 THE SPUING MORNING. 101 
 
 woke up, by hearing the dreadful shrieks of 
 Edone, as the beast seized him in his claws, 
 and doubtless tore him in pieces. It was a 
 sad hearing for Argia. He started up and 
 ran he knew not whither ; then he thought 
 of his flute, and felt for it in his bosom, but 
 it had fallen out whilst he slept, and he 
 liunlly dared steal back to look for it. At 
 last, however, he did ; but when he found it, 
 it was so bent and bruised in his sleep, that 
 it seemed as if it never again would make 
 any music. However, having found it, he 
 started off as fast as his feet would carry 
 him ; and as it happened, he ran straight to 
 the stile over which Agape and Astathes had 
 passed. In his sore fear he sprung over the 
 stile, and began to hurry up the hill in spite 
 of the thorns and the steepness. But there 
 he was lost from my eyes in the gathering 
 darkness of the night, and I know not how 
 it fared with him further. Whether he was 
 drowned in the swollen stream, or lost in the
 
 102 THE SPEING MOENING. 
 
 pitfalls, or snared in the gins, or devoured by 
 beasts, or whether he did straighten and tune 
 his marred flute, and with the help of its 
 music just reached the golden gates, I cannot 
 say ; but I greatly fear for Argia, for I know 
 who it is that hath said, * The night cometh 
 when no man can work.' 
 
 Q. What was the pleasant garden, and 
 who were these boys in it ? 
 
 A. The garden is this world and its 
 pleasures, and the boys are the children of 
 Christian people. 
 
 Q. Who bade them set out early, and 
 gave them 'prayer' and 'promise' to help 
 them ? 
 
 A. Jesus Christ our Saviour gave them 
 these in his Church, into which they had 
 been received at baptism. 
 
 Q. Who set out directly ? 
 
 A. Agape, or ' Love,' who longed to reach 
 the better country.
 
 THE SPRING MORNING. 103 
 
 Q. Who set out with him, but turned 
 back at the stile ? 
 
 A. Astathes, or the ' waverer.' 
 
 Q. What was the stile that turned him 
 back? 
 
 A. The first difficulties of self-denial in 
 the service of Christ. 
 
 Q. Why was the journey of Agape 
 easy ? 
 
 A. Because he set out early, and religion 
 is easiest to those who do so. 
 
 Q. What is meant by the beautiful music 
 of his flute ? 
 
 A. That his prayers were heavenly, and 
 that he had much communion with God. 
 
 Q. What did this save him from ? 
 
 A. All the dangers of the way. 
 
 Q. When Astathes went back from the 
 stile, whom did he join ? 
 
 A. His worldly companions, who would 
 not set out yet in Christ's service. 
 
 Q. Was he truly happy with them ?
 
 104' THE SPRING MOENING. 
 
 A. No; for there is no true friendship or 
 happiness without God. 
 
 Q. Was this unhappiness of use to him ? 
 
 A. Yes, it led him to set out in earnest 
 for a better country. 
 
 Q. Was his journeyas easyas thatof Agape? 
 
 A. No ; all his difficulties and dangers 
 were greater : it was much harder to begin 
 to serve God. 
 
 Q. What is meant by his flute being 
 choked with mud ? 
 
 A. That prayer cannot rise from an 
 earthly heart. 
 
 Q. What is meant by the water in which 
 he was almost lost, making it easier for him 
 to play on it ? 
 
 A. That affliction often teaches men to 
 pray in earnest. 
 
 Q. Did his troubles last ? 
 
 A. Yes ; almost all through his journey, 
 he had more difficulty and less comfort than 
 Agape.
 
 I 
 
 THE SPEING MOBXIXG. 105 
 
 Q. Tell me in the language of Scripture 
 why this was ? 
 
 A. Because he did not ' Remember his 
 Creator in the days of his youth, before the 
 evil days come, and the years draw nigh, 
 wherein,' he said, * I have no pleasure in 
 them.' 
 
 Q. Was he received at last ? 
 
 A. Yes ; of God's mercy he did reach the 
 heavenly place. 
 
 Q. Did Edone, or ' pleasure ' ? 
 
 A. No ; whilst he was selfishly trying to 
 escape, by leaving his friend to be destroyed, 
 he was overtaken by destruction. 
 
 Q. What is meant by the flute of Argia 
 being bent and broken in his sleep ? 
 
 A. That a life of worldliness and indolence 
 robs a man of the power of prayer. 
 
 Q. What is meant by his getting so easily 
 over the stile ? 
 
 A. That in the terror of punishment, men 
 whose hearts are not truly turned to God, often
 
 106 THE SPKING MORNING, 
 
 make great efforts to escape when it is too 
 late. 
 
 Q. Did Argia, or ' indolence/ who waited 
 ,till eventide, escape ? 
 
 A. We know not, for some are received 
 at the eleventh hour ; but we greatly fear 
 that he perished.
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE 
 
 I DREAMED that I was walking through a 
 foreign country far away from this land, and 
 I thought I came to a wide grassy plain, 
 sprinkled over here and there with shrubs and 
 trees, between which lay an open space, look- 
 ing as green, and smooth, and fresh as a 
 newly-mown lawn ; and as I was casting my 
 eyes over it, and wondering why it was kept 
 so smooth, I saw a number of persons all 
 crowded together at one end of it ; so I walked 
 on till I joined them, that I might learn what 
 was going on. There I saw several of the 
 group dressed all alike, and could soon sec 
 that they were ready to run a race. They 
 had cast off all those clothes which could 
 hinder them in running, and they seemed to
 
 108 THE EUNNEES. 
 
 be all ready to set out as soon as the signal 
 should be given. While I was looking at 
 them, a herald of the king of the land came 
 out of his tent, and began to read to them 
 the rules of the race. He told them that the 
 king would give crowns to all who strove 
 earnestly in that race ; that these crowns 
 would be brighter than any crowns of this 
 earth ; and that he would take every one who 
 won a crown, to receive him into his family, 
 and treat him as his own son ; and that such 
 should never suffer more, or want anything ; 
 but that they should dwell for ever in the 
 king's palace, and be as happy as heart could 
 wish. He told them, too, that all who halted 
 in the race, or did not run earnestly, would lose 
 these crowns, and that they would be as surely 
 punished, as the rest would be rewarded; 
 that they would be cast into a dark and dreary 
 country, where they would work ever under 
 hard taskmasters, and groan for their stripes 
 and misery, without help and without hope.
 
 A herald began to read to them the rule-: of the Ramr
 
 THE GUNNERS. 109 
 
 When I heard these rules, I looked more 
 earnestly than before upon the men who 
 were about to run, and to my surprise I saw 
 that there were many more than I had seen 
 at first. There were many whom I had 
 thought more bystanders or lookers-on, but 
 who I now saw were indeed amongst the 
 runners. Yet I could scarcely believe it. 
 For they were not dressed like the others ; 
 they had taken no care to gird up their loins ; 
 some of them had long flowing clothes, which 
 must get in their way as soon as they began 
 to run ; some were eating and drinking, for- 
 getting that they had a hard struggle before 
 them, and would need to be as light and as 
 active as possible when they got into the 
 race ; and yet all seemed to think that they 
 should do very well, and made no doubt at 
 all that there were crowns for them as well 
 as for the rest. 
 
 Even amongst those who were better pre- 
 pared, I could see, on looking closer, a great
 
 110 THE EUNNEBS. 
 
 difference between some and others. Some 
 were strong and active, and looked as if they 
 could not fail of getting the first crown, and 
 living for ever in the happy palace of the 
 king; whilst others were pale and faint, as 
 if they had hardly any strength to walk, and 
 must fall short as soon as they began to run. 
 Some seemed too old to do anything but 
 hobble, and some so young that they could 
 scarcely do more than crawl. 
 
 Whilst I was looking them over and over, 
 and waiting eagerly to see the end, I heard 
 a trumpet sound, and all who were to run 
 got ready for the start. Soon another trum- 
 pet sounded, and away they set. For a few 
 paces all went on together, but only for a 
 few. First I saw that those who had been 
 carelessly eating and drinking, and never 
 thinking of the race they had to run, began 
 to flag and faint. One after another they 
 halted, and as the rest ran on, they were 
 soon left altogether behind. Then I saw
 
 THE EUNNEBS. Ill 
 
 that one and another of those who would 
 not put on the runner's dress, began to 
 stumble and fall, as their long clothes caught 
 the wind, and entangled their feet. So they, 
 too, were left behind. Only one or two of 
 them began to strive to cast off their long 
 garments, and to gird up their loins like the 
 better runners. But whilst they stopped for 
 this, the rest passed on, and they were left 
 quite behind ; all but one, who, though he 
 was a good way behind, yet seemed deter- 
 mined not to lose the crown, and so laboured 
 mightily to regain the ground that he had 
 lost, and I could see him still following, 
 though far behind, and looking very weary 
 and distressed, but still pressing on as one 
 who would not give up the struggle. 
 
 And now their number was sadly thinned, 
 and I could look all the closer at those who 
 still followed on. One brave runner there 
 was who took the lead of all ; he was made 
 for speed and strength, and though he was
 
 112 THE RUNNERS. 
 
 at the head of the race, he did not seem to 
 labour so much as many that got on less 
 quickly, for he often looked round to see how 
 others fared, and had a jest ready when this 
 one fell off, and a joke when another stumbled. 
 As they turned a corner in the course, I heard 
 one of the king's heralds speak to this man 
 in a grave sad voice as he went by, and he 
 seemed to say to him, ' Let him that thinketh 
 he standeth, take heed lest he fall' (1 Cor. 
 x. 12). 
 
 Then there followed another, and he too 
 was a brave runner ; he set his feet firmly on 
 the ground, and drew his breath so evenly, 
 it seemed as if nothing would weary him. 
 But as I watched his running, I saw that he 
 hardly ever looked on to the end of the 
 course. He had his eyes sometimes on the 
 ground, sometimes on those near him ; and 
 if a bird did but fly out of a bush with gayer 
 feathers than the rest, or if the air was 
 scented with sweet-smelling flowers, he would
 
 THE RUNNERS. 113 
 
 make a half stop, as if he must stay for them, 
 before he could go on with the race. . A little 
 way behind him came another, and he too, 
 methought, promised well for a crown, for he 
 too had a strong step, and an active body ; 
 but his eyes too were wandering, and once or 
 twice I thought, as he passed near the fruit- 
 trees of that land, on which grew fruit of 
 gold and silver, that I saw him catch at the 
 beautiful boughs, as if he wished to fill his 
 hands even whilst he ran the race. I heard 
 one of the heralds speak to these two also ; 
 and to the first he said, in a chiding tone, and 
 yet full of kindness, * I press toward the 
 mark' (Phil. iii. 14) ; and to the other, 
 'Laying aside every weight' (Heb. xii. 1) ; 
 but it did not seem to me that his words sunk 
 much into their hearts. For a little while 
 indeed they ran more steadily, but soon I 
 could mark their eyes wandering, and their 
 hands stretched out, just as they were before 
 the warning. 
 
 8
 
 114 THE RUNNERS. 
 
 Some way after these there came another. 
 He was not so strong as those who had gone 
 before, but there was a great firmness in his 
 face, and his eyes seemed set straight on, as 
 if he looked at something in the air before 
 him. Then I strove more earnestly to see 
 on what his eyes were set, and I could see 
 far before him the end of the course, and 
 there the judge's chair wq<s set, and the judge 
 himself was seated in it. He was a grave 
 and comely person, and a crown was on his 
 head, and at his right hand there were shining 
 crowns stored up for those who prospered in 
 the race ; and I thought as I looked, that 
 his eyes were on the steady runner, and that 
 he looked at him with kindness and love. 
 
 Then came another, and he was nimble 
 and light of foot, though he was now so far 
 behind a little while before, and he had oeen 
 the front of all ; and then he had stopped to 
 take breath, as though he were confident that 
 at any time he could regain the ground that
 
 THE EUNNEBS. 115 
 
 he had lost ; and so now he was far behind, 
 and there came a warning to him from one 
 of the heralds, and it was this, ' Be not weary 
 in well doing,' and when he heard it he started 
 forward, and got nearly to the head of all ; 
 but then he grew slothful, and began to pause 
 again, as if the race was nothing more than 
 sport, and its bright crown no better than a 
 jest. While he was thus loitering, I noticed 
 one come up, whom I had marked at first, as 
 very lame and aged. He had soon been left 
 behind : yet still there was a great earnestness 
 in his countenance. Many times when I 
 thought he must have given in, I heard him 
 call upon the name of the king, as if he would 
 not be left behind, and then strength came 
 unto his weakness, and he got on noblv in 
 the course. Lame, too, as he was, I saw 
 him often lend a hand to a poor feeble-looking" 
 runner, who was pressing on behind him. 
 He, too, was in earnest, but he was very 
 weak, and often his st<*ps tottered, and he
 
 116 THE BUNNERS. 
 
 caught at the hand of the lame man, or he 
 must have fallen ; and so it was, that when- 
 ever the lame man helped him on, instead of 
 being delayed by his kindness, he seemed to 
 help himself too ; and the crown looked 
 brighter at the end of the course, and the 
 judge's chair and the goal seemed to come 
 nearer to him. 
 
 Now behind them c'ame a fair child, beauti- 
 ful to look upon, and almost with the face of 
 an angel ; but how its little feet could bear 
 the road, or what could put into its young 
 heart to run the race, I could scarcely think, 
 till I saw that a hand was guiding it I had 
 not seen at first, and there was written upon 
 it in letters of gold, He shall gather the 
 lambs in his arms/ So then I knew that the 
 little child was safe, and I fancied that I could 
 see the judge holding out the crown which 
 was to adorn that infant head. 
 
 But as I gazed, I heard a cry as of one in 
 distress, and I looked round, and I saw the
 
 I . .inn: as he was, I saw him often lend a hand to a 
 
 poor feeble-looking runner, who was pressing on behind him. He too was in 
 
 earnest, but he was very weak, and often his steps tottered. 
 
 Behind them came a fair child.
 
 THE RUNNERS. 117 
 
 foremost runner fallen all along upon the 
 ground. Alas, he had not minded the warn- 
 ing of the herald, he had not fixed his eyes 
 upon the crowns and the goal; and so, as he 
 was looking idly round to see how others 
 fared, he stumbled and fell, and now he lay 
 all along upon the ground, and he could not 
 regain his footing. The ground where he had 
 fallen was all miry and unsound, and the 
 more he struggled the more he sunk into it. 
 I heard him cry out, and a sharp sad cry it 
 was ; but I never heard him call upon the 
 king, and so he lay struggling and labouring, 
 until all had passed him by, and he was left 
 behind. 
 
 The others passed on ; but the careless 
 runner, I grieved to see, was still running 
 carelessly, and looking no more towards the 
 end of the race, nor pressing more towards 
 the mark than when I saw him last. I feared 
 for him too ; and even as I looked, a beautiful 
 bird of the rarest feathers fluttered out of a
 
 118 THE RUNNERS. 
 
 bush by the side, and almost within his reach. 
 I saw his eyes sparkle, and he turned a little 
 on one side, it was only a little, and he did 
 not wholly cease from his running, but that 
 little cost the poor man his crown ; for there 
 were secret spikes set amongst that grass 
 which lay out of the road, and as he hurried 
 on after the gay bird which fluttered just 
 before him, he trod amongst the spikes and 
 fell ; and as I looked, I saw that it was writ- 
 ten up, just where he had left the smooth 
 grass of the course, ' The way of transgressors 
 is hard.' 
 
 He who had been warned at the same 
 time by the king's faithful herald, was just 
 by when his companion turned aside out of 
 the way ; and when he saw the other fall, for 
 a time methought it made his countenance 
 graver, and he raised his eyes and looked off 
 from the trees of gold to the far end of the 
 course. And then there fell a light upon his 
 face, which I had never seen on it before.
 
 THE EUXNEKS. 119 
 
 But soon it died away ; and a film gathered 
 over his eyes, and the crowns and the end 
 were hidden from them ; and just then a 
 golden bough stretched quite out into the 
 road, and its fruit of silver and of gold almost 
 touched his hands. He looked at it, and I 
 feared that he was lost. He stopped to handle 
 it. He gathered some of its rich fruit, and 
 began to load himself with it. Just then came 
 up the slower runner, whose eyes had ever 
 been fixed upon the end. To him he offered 
 some of the spoil, if he would stay and help 
 to gather it ; but the man could not take his 
 eyes off from the end ; and so "he looked not 
 round upon the baits with which the other 
 strove to tempt him, but saying, ' I press 
 toward the mark,' he was for passing on his 
 way. The sound of those words which he 
 had heard of old from the herald, startled the 
 other somewhat, and he let the bough go. 
 Then there came, as from the air, a voice 
 which said, ' They that will be rich fall into
 
 120 THE ECNNEES. 
 
 temptation and a snare;' and again, 'But 
 thou, man of God, flee these things.' When 
 he heard these words, the faithful runner 
 hastened on his way ; and even the tarrying 
 runner trembled and set out again upon his 
 course. But he could not bring himself to 
 cast away the fruit that he had gathered ; and 
 it grew heavier and heavier, as he strove to 
 carry it, until first he halted, and then he fell 
 by the way- side, pierced through with many 
 sorrows. 
 
 Then there passed by one running bravely, 
 with his face towards the goal, and his steps 
 nimble ; and I was glad when I saw the man 
 so earnest, for I could see that it was the 
 same who had fallen back before, from loving 
 to take his ease ; and now I had good hopes 
 for him, that he would hold on to the end. 
 Yet even as he ran, my heart misgave me for 
 him ; and I looked round with more confi- 
 dence on the lame man and his fainting friend, 
 who were striving to reach the end. Close
 
 THE BUNKERS. 121 
 
 by them, too, was the fair child, who seemed 
 to glide along the way, so easy was his run- 
 ning. I could not take my eyes from them, 
 though I could hear still further back the 
 voice of one calling on the king for aid, and I 
 thought by the sound, that it grew somewhat 
 nearer. But as I listened to it, I heard a 
 sound of the sweetest music, and I saw, on 
 looking up, that it came from golden harps on 
 which men clothed in white were playing 
 round the judge's chair; and now they 
 touched their harps because one had reached 
 the end. Then I drew near to see who was 
 the happy man : it was not the man who had 
 just before passed me so nimbly, but it was 
 the slower runner whose face had been set so 
 steadily to the end of the race. And I saw 
 that as he drew near, the king smiled upon 
 him with a loving smile; and he spake the 
 word, and a crown was brought to him, and 
 he set it on his servant's head. It was bright 
 to look upon, like the diamond and the topaz,
 
 122 THE BUNNEBS. 
 
 and on it there was written in letters of fire 
 which flashed out on every side, f Be thou 
 faithful unto death, and T will give thee the 
 crown of life.' 
 
 Then the golden doors of the king's palace 
 were rolled back, and beautiful lights and 
 sounds were seen and heard from within, and 
 I saw the crowned runner walk towards the 
 door, and he passed within, and the happy 
 crowd within thronged about him, and gave 
 him a glad welcome ; and though I could but 
 just see his face, I saw that joy sat upon it, 
 that the struggle of his hard race was over, 
 and that sorrow and sighing had fled far away. 
 Much did I long to go in with him into the 
 happy place, but it was only for the runners ; 
 and the golden gates shut soon upon him, 
 and hid their joy from those who were 
 without. 
 
 Whilst I was wishing to run in the race 
 myself, I heard the harps of gold touched 
 again, and give out their sweet music. Then
 
 THE BUNNERS. 123 
 
 I looked up, and three more of the runners 
 drew near. The lame man, and the fainting 
 runner, and the fair child stood before the 
 judge's chair. The king looked on them with 
 his mild love, and he called straightway for 
 crowns, which he set upon their heads. Then 
 I saw that on the crown of the lame man it 
 was written, * He that endureth to the end, 
 the same shall be saved;' and turning to him 
 who had so often almost fainted in the way, 
 and who could even now scarcely believe that 
 he was safely landed at the goal, I saw it 
 written on his crown, * To him that hath no 
 might, he increaseth strength ;' whilst the 
 fair child looked fairer and more beautiful than 
 ever, and he bore upon his crown the writing, 
 ' Suffer the little children to come unto me, 
 and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom 
 of heaven.' 
 
 Then these three walked together to- 
 wards the golden doors, which opened for 
 them of their own accord, to the sound of
 
 124 THE RUNNERS. 
 
 the sweetest music ; and they, too, went in 
 and were soon mingled with the happy people 
 there. 
 
 Then I thought within myself of the man 
 who had passed so nimbly by me, and pro- 
 mised so well for a crown, and yet who had 
 not reached the end. So I walked slowly 
 down the course to see if I could light upon 
 him. 1 had gone but a little way from the 
 end when I saw a choice arbour, shady with 
 flowery shrubs, and sweet with every scented 
 flower, and there on the mossy seat within I 
 saw the nimble runner stretched out at length, 
 and fast asleep. So 1 tried to awaken him, 
 but could not he only turned in his sleep 
 and slept the sounder. My heart was grieved 
 for the man ; but as 1 came out of the arbour, 
 I saw he had not been unwarned, for it was 
 written up over the door- way by which he had 
 come in,. ' Slothfulness casteth into a deep 
 sleep.' 
 
 And as I came out I heard the same voice
 
 I had gone but a little way when \ saw a choice arbour, 
 
 shady with flowery shrubs, and sweet with every scented flower, and there 
 
 on the mossy seat within I saw the nimble runner stretched 
 
 out at length, and fast asleep
 
 THE RUNNERS. 125 
 
 of one calling on the king which I had heard 
 before, and looking round . I saw the runner 
 who had so late cast off his flowing robes, and 
 girded himself for the race. He was toiling 
 indeed with his eye fixed on the end, and yet 
 only seeing its brightness at times ; and when 
 it was clouded over, I heard him call again 
 upon the king, like one who feared that all 
 was lost. 
 
 "But now his troubles were well nigh over, 
 for soon he heard the welcoming music of 
 those heavenly harps ; and a crown was 
 brought out for him which shone with these 
 words,- ' Faint, yet pursuing ;' and the golden 
 door opened for him, and the scales fell alto- 
 gether from his eyes, and all the labour of his 
 race was forgotten in the fulness of the joy 
 which flowed into his soul. So whilst I was 
 thinking how I could myself begin to run 
 in this race, I awoke, and behold it was a 
 dream.
 
 126 THE RUN NEBS. 
 
 Q. Do you remember any passages of 
 Scripture which this may explain ? 
 
 A. Yes : ' So run thatye may obtain.' ' I 
 therefore so run, not as uncertainly,' . . . ' but 
 I keep under my body, and bring it into sub- 
 jection. . . . They do it to obtain a cor- 
 ruptible crown, but we an incorruptible' 
 (1 Cor. ix. 24 27). ' Let us lay aside every 
 weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset 
 us, and let us run with patience the race that 
 is set before us ' (Heb. xii. 1). 
 
 Q. What then is the race ? 
 
 A. The Christian life. 
 
 Q. What is the crown ? 
 
 A. Everlasting life. 
 
 Q. Who is it that gives it ? 
 
 A. Our heavenly Father. 
 
 Q. Who are they who set out unpre- 
 pared ? 
 
 A. Those who have been baptized, and are 
 called Christians, but who will not strive to 
 serve God.
 
 THE RUNNERS. 127 
 
 Q. Who is he that ran so bravely, but fell 
 whilst he was looking about him ? 
 
 A. One who set out well, but fell away 
 through trusting in himself and not in Christ. 
 
 Q. Who was he whom the gay bird lured 
 away ? 
 
 A. One who follows c the pleasures of sin, 
 which are but for a season.' 
 
 Q. Who was it that stopped to gather the 
 golden fruits ? 
 
 A. One whom the love of riches and earthly 
 pleasures tempted to forget heaven and Christ's 
 promised crown. 
 
 Q. Who was it that was asleep in the 
 arbour ? 
 
 A. The slothful man who wishes to get to 
 heaven, but will not take the trouble of going 
 on serving God. 
 
 Q. And who was he who did not promise 
 much at first, but kept his eyes fixed on the 
 end, and the soonest got the crown ? 
 
 A. One who makes no noise about his
 
 128 THE EUNNERS. 
 
 religion, but looks steadily to Christ, and to 
 the end, and so who serves God truly. 
 
 Q. And what do the three who came in 
 together teach you ? 
 
 A. That Christ will hold up the weak, 
 and the lame, and children too, and carry 
 them safely to the end, if they will trust in 
 Him, and strive earnestly to serve Him ; and 
 that God's service is easier to holy children 
 than to any others. 
 
 Q. What is to be learned from him who 
 came in last ? 
 
 A. That they who begin to serve Christ 
 late, have more difficulties than others ; but 
 that if they strive mightily and call in earnest 
 on Him for help, He will at last carry them 
 through in safety, and give them the crown 
 of life.
 
 IX. 
 
 THE YOUNG SHEPHEED. 
 
 IN a large upper room, just under the flat 
 roof of the house, sat a family at breakfast. 
 They were round a rude wooden table, and 
 they lay along on benches which were placed 
 round its sides. 
 
 A fine family they were to look on, that 
 old venerable man and his eight sons. The 
 three who were the nearest to their father 
 looked like soldiers. They belonged to the 
 king's own guard, and proud enough they 
 were that they did so. There were no finer 
 men in all the camp of Saul than these, when 
 they went out after him in their shining 
 armour, treading strongly on the ground, and 
 making it rattle and shake under their brazen 
 greaves. Now they sat unarmed like the rest
 
 130 THE YOUNG SHEPHEKD. 
 
 round the table, eating the loaves and parched 
 corn and cheese and butter which their father 
 had brought out of his stores, and the fresh 
 honey in the honey-comb which their youngest 
 brother had found in the wood. 
 
 The old man looked happily round upon 
 his sons, and perhaps his eye rested with an 
 especial love upon his youngest ; for he was 
 still a lad, not come to the height or strength 
 of his brothers, and his long hair curled over 
 his ruddy countenance, which looked fresh 
 and clear as the dewy morning. A stranger 
 would not much have noticed him amongst 
 these strong fine men, his elder brothers ; 
 and they all despised him for his youth, and 
 left him to take charge of their father's sheep. 
 But there was ONE who did not despise him. 
 There was ONE who looked on him with far 
 more favour than on those proud and haughty 
 soldiers, and that ONE was God. For this 
 young lad had sought and found the God of 
 his fathers. He was a holy youth he loved
 
 THE YOUNG SHEl'HEBD. 131 
 
 to hear of God he knew all the wonderful 
 histories of his people of old, how God had 
 chosen Abraham, and blessed Isaac, and pre- 
 served Jacob. He loved to hear of the time 
 when in the far wilderness, Jacob had laid his 
 head upon a stone to sleep, and God had sent 
 him the beautiful visions of his holy angels 
 coming up and down as on a ladder from the 
 earth to heaven ; on all these things he would 
 think and ponder as he sat watching the sheep 
 in the waste, and sometimes you might see 
 his hands clasped together in earnest prayer 
 to this great God of Abraham. Sometimes 
 his eyes would fill with tears, which would 
 run all down his cheeks as he thought of these 
 deep things, and longed to know God more 
 himself, and to see some of these wonderful 
 and great sights which holy men before now 
 had seen. Sometimes you might hear him 
 playing on a little harp, which he loved so 
 well that he seldom went to the far folds 
 without it; and then he would sing to its
 
 132 THE YOUNG SHEPHERD. 
 
 music, and pour out the most holy and .hea- 
 venly praises and psalms. God was teaching 
 this shepherd all these holy songs, in which 
 his full pure heart ran over when he praised 
 and gave thanks unto his name. 
 
 Once when he was thus praising and 
 thanking his God, he did find in a wonderful 
 way that God was near unto him. It was the 
 winter time, the snow lay upon the high 
 grounds, and the wind roared and howled 
 through the woods, making the tops of the 
 cedar-trees bow and murmur like the waves 
 of the sea, or the whispering of some great 
 army in a place of many echoes. He had pent 
 up his flock in a sheltered place, under the 
 lee of a high wood, and as he sat watching 
 them, and listening to the tossing trees, it 
 seemed to him as if the voice of the wind and 
 the murmur of the forest was a song of praise 
 to the God of all. ' I will not be silent,' he 
 said within himself, 'whilst all things are 
 praising the Lord ;' so he took up his harp, and
 
 THE YOUNG SHEPHERD. 133 
 
 began to sing to the wild notes which it flung 
 forth as his hand swept over it. Perhaps he 
 sung as he once did, ' Praise the Lord upon 
 earth ; ye dragons and all deeps ; fire and hail, 
 snow and vapour, wind and storms, fulfilling 
 his word : mountains and all hills ; fruitful 
 trees and all cedars ; beasts and all cattle 
 . . . young men and maidens ; old men and 
 children ; praise the name of the Lord, for his 
 name only is excellent, and his praise above 
 heaven and earth ' (Ps. cxlviii. 7 12). 
 
 Hardly had he finished the last words 
 when he thought that he heard a roaring 
 louder and nearer than that of the forest 
 behind him, and looking up, he saw that a 
 great lion and a savage bear, whom cold and 
 hunger had brought from the mountain- woods 
 into the plain, were coming near the fold that 
 he was keeping. 
 
 It was a fearful sight to see those savage 
 beasts drawing near to him. The lion crouch- 
 ing along the ground, its long tail stretched
 
 134 THE YOUNG SHEPHERD. 
 
 straight out behind it, its eyes fixed, and 
 looking ready to spring upon him in a moment; 
 the bear, too, with its heavy awkward trot, 
 fierce red eyes, and shaggy head this was a 
 fearful sight to a lonely shepherd boy on a 
 far hill-side. He might call as loud as he 
 would, and no man would hear him or help 
 him. 
 
 But was he frightened ? These thoughts 
 you may be sure came fast into his mind as 
 he looked at the fierce and evil beasts ; but he 
 was not frightened, for other thoughts came 
 with them. It came into his mind, as if God 
 had sent the thought, that though no man was 
 there, yet that he was not alone ; that God 
 was very nigh to him, and that never was he 
 so little alone as when all men were afar off, 
 and God was near him. So he lifted up his 
 heart to God and said, * Lord God of Abra- 
 ham, be nigh unto thy servant that prayeth,' 
 and then with a great shout he rushed upon 
 the beasts with no more than his shepherd's
 
 A fearful sight to a lonely shepherd-boy.
 
 THE YOUNG SHEPHERD. 135 
 
 staff. And God was with him of a truth, and 
 so mightily was he strengthened, that he 
 seized the beasts by the beard, and slew them 
 in the strength of the God of all. 
 
 Then he blessed and praised the Lord. 
 But he made no vaunt of what he had done ; 
 only he stored the thought of it up in his 
 heart ; and many times after ward, when danger 
 threatened him, he said within himself, ' The 
 Lord which delivered me out of the paw of the 
 lion, and out of the paw of the bear, He will 
 deliver me.'
 
 X. 
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 And he was baptized, he and all his, straight- 
 way. 13 Acts xvi. 33. 
 
 IN my visions, I saw a tent pitched upon a 
 fair plain. It was a large tent, of the purest 
 white cloth, so that it might be seen afar off ; 
 and when the sun shone brightly upon it, 
 and the wind lifted up the folds o a great 
 flag which hung from its top, it was indeed a 
 noble sight. When the flag unfolded itself 
 in the breeze, you might see upon it a blood- 
 red cross, upon a ground of snow-white silk. 
 Many people were going in and out of the 
 tent. Sometimes a single man would go in 
 silently and thoughtfully, with a heavy counte- 
 nance, and he would come out again after a
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 137 
 
 time, with a glow upon his face, and a firmer 
 step than that with which he went in. Some- 
 times a husband and wife would go in to- 
 gether; sometimes a father and a mother, 
 with their children ; sometimes a child would 
 lead in an old man; sometimes a mother 
 would pass in, with an infant in her arms ; 
 some too would go in carelessly, and lightly, 
 just because others did, and these seemed to 
 come out pretty much as they went in ; or if 
 for a while they were graver, and seemed more 
 earnest, it soon wore off again, and they were 
 as light and thoughtless as ever. 
 
 While I was musing upon this strange 
 sight, and wondering what it might mean, 
 methought some one tapped lightly on my 
 shoulder. I looked round, and there stood 
 by me a comely person with a grave, kind 
 air, but with eyes in which there was such 
 a brightness, that when I looked into them I 
 felt abashed, and fixed mine down upon the 
 ground.
 
 138 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 Whilst I cast about in my mind how I 
 should speak to him, he first began, and said 
 to me, in a mild voice which chased away my 
 fears, ' You would see the inside of this tent, 
 and know what is doing in it ; then follow me, 
 and I will show you/ 
 
 Thereupon he took me by the hand, and 
 led me down to the tent door, which he lifted 
 up, and we stood within. There were many 
 people within, of all ages and countries, 
 gathered round one who stood high above 
 them all. He was clothed like the grave man 
 who had brought me in, but was not so bright 
 and terrible to look upon ; his voice too was 
 soft and winning, and when he turned to any, 
 it was with a smile of kindness which drew 
 their hearts after him, so that the very chil- 
 dren in the tent came near, without their 
 little hearts failing them, as one by one he 
 called them to him. 
 
 Then my guide led me nigh to this man, 
 and placed me at his side, that ] might see
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 130 
 
 and hear all that passed bet^Yeen him and 
 those that were with him in the tent. Just 
 then there came to him a man of middle years, 
 with a sad, heavy countenance ; his eyes wero 
 fixed on the ground, and I could see that salt 
 tears were falling from them, and running 
 over his hard, manly cheeks. Kindly and 
 tenderly spake the man in white to him, and 
 bid him fear not, for that he was about to 
 serve a gracious master. The words seemed 
 by their very sound to open the poor man's 
 heart, for he looked up, and almost smiled 
 amongst his tears. He said too something 
 about having ' fought long against the king, 
 and served his enemies, and resisted his 
 messages ; and that he feared he should not 
 now be received as a soldier.' Then the man 
 in white bid him look up, and whether it was 
 a beautiful picture or a heavenly vision I know 
 not, but he saw the forms of bright soldiers 
 in golden arms, with crowns upon their heads, 
 and happy faces, which seemed bathed in
 
 140 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 light, so gloriously did they shine ; and one 
 and another looked on the man kindly, and 
 seemed to beckon him to join them, till his 
 eyes began to sparkle, and his heart to beat 
 high with hope. 
 
 Then the man in white bid him look in 
 upon himself, and when he saw how unlike he 
 was to them, his heart began again to die 
 away, but the man raised him up by saying to 
 him, ' And such were some of them, yea, all 
 of them like you were r.ebels once.' Then he 
 told him how the king had provided for those 
 that undertook his service, that they should 
 always be held up so long as they looked to 
 him for help, and that he would himself ever 
 be near them ; that though they could not see 
 him with their eyes, or feel him with their 
 hands, yet that he would be close by them, 
 and that he would put strength into their 
 arms, and cover them in the day of battle ; 
 that he himself would help them to be faithful 
 to him, if they sought his help ; and that then
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 141 
 
 he would at last take them to dwell with him 
 in his palace, where they would sit at his board, 
 and hear his voice, and see his face for ever. 
 
 The poor man's eyes brightened at the 
 sound of these brave words, and he said, * This 
 is what I want indeed, but are you sure that 
 the king will receive, as his soldier, one who 
 has so often rebelled against his will, and 
 refused to serve him ?' 
 
 * Of that I can make you sure,' said the 
 man in white, * here is the king's own hand 
 and seal for what I do,' and with that he 
 opened a book which was sealed with the 
 king's seal, and he read to him from it, * Go 
 ye into all the world, and preach the gospel 
 unto every creature ; he that believeth and is 
 baptized, shall be saved.' And again he 
 showed him in another place, ' Him that 
 cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out ;' 
 and again, to cheer his heart the more, he 
 showed him this, ' Your sins and your iniqui- 
 ties will I remember no more.'
 
 142 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 Then was the man's heart glad indeed, 
 and with a cheerful voice he said, ' Oh, sir, 
 let me enter quickly into the service of the 
 king.' Then the man in white questioned 
 him once more, whether he did indeed believe 
 the king's word, and would fight his battles, 
 and strive against his enemies ; and when he 
 had heard his answer, firm and yet humble, 
 he brought out a book, in which he wrote 
 down his name as one of the king's soldiers ; 
 then he made upon his forehead the sign of 
 the same cross which I had seen upon the 
 banner, and told him that now he was one of 
 the king's men, and that he must bear him 
 true love unto his life's end. Then he called 
 him nigh unto himself, and he drew out from 
 the king's treasures a bright and beautiful 
 ring, which he put upon his finger, and called 
 it the ring of adoption. There was in it one 
 stone which burnt and sparkled like living 
 fire, and round it was written as in flame- 
 Faith. As he put it on his finger he said to
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 143 
 
 him, * Whilst this ring remains on thy finger, 
 thou art safe ; and whilst this stone barns 
 and sparkles so brightly, nothing can draw it 
 off; but if ever this grows dull, then look to 
 the ring, for it will begin to grow loose upon 
 thy finger, and if it once falls off, then thou 
 art lost. And now go thy way, and God 
 speed thee.' So I saw that the man went 
 his way with a glad and cheerful counte- 
 nance. 
 
 Then came another before him, and with 
 him he dealt in like manner, and so did he 
 with his wife, for she too was led to wish to 
 do the king service ; and I heard him say to 
 her, that some of those whose crowns were 
 brightest, had been once but as she was now 
 a weak woman and ready to fall. 
 
 So they were turning away, when the eyes 
 of the man in white fell upon a child whit-li 
 she was leading by the hand, and a little 
 infant whom she was shielding in her bosom ; 
 so he looked upon her again, and spoke and
 
 144 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 said, ' And will you not give up those little 
 ones, too, to do the king service ?' 
 
 Then her eyes sparkled more brightly 
 than ever, and she said, ' Oh, yes, sir, if I 
 may ; but how can such little ones perform 
 any service to our king ?' 
 
 Then the man in white answered her 
 again, * It is true, even the eldest of them can 
 scarcely serve him yet, that you can see ; but 
 the king is full of love, and he would fain 
 have such little ones given up to him, and he 
 will put their names in his book, and give 
 them the ring of adoption, if their parents 
 will bring them unto him, and promise in 
 their names, that when they grow to years, 
 they will serve their king ; and then the king 
 will trust them unto you, to bring them up 
 for him. Look,' he said, ' here is the king's 
 word for it.' So he opened the sealed book 
 again, and read from it, ' Suffer the little 
 children to come unto me, and forbid them 
 not; 'and again, * The promise is unto you
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 145 
 
 and to your children.' Then were the hearts 
 of the parents glad, and thankfully did they 
 promise for their children that they should 
 serve the king hereafter ; and the sign of the 
 cross was marked upon their foreheads, and 
 their names were written down in the king's 
 book, and the ring of adoption was put on 
 their small fingers. Then the man made them 
 observe, that there was such virtue in these 
 rings, that though they fitted now the small- 
 ness of these infant fingers, they would fit 
 them still hereafter, though they grew up to 
 man's estate and size. He showed them, 
 too, the stone of faith set in them ; but in 
 these little rings it sparkled not outwardly. 
 * Already,' said he, ' is there in these stones 
 some inward sparkling, though it cannot be 
 seen outwardly, but as the children grow in 
 reason, if they grow too in grace, the stones 
 shall begin to sparkle outwardly. Be it your 
 care to draw out this shining.' Then I saw 
 that the mother believed, and so the stone in 
 
 10
 
 146 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 her own ring waxed brighter and brighter; 
 but for a moment it seemed to me that the 
 father doubted, and looking down upon his 
 ring, I saw that the stone in it was cloudy ; 
 but even while I watched it, it was as when 
 a cloud clears off from the sun, and the man 
 looked up and thanked the king, who had 
 taken 'his little ones so soon into his good and 
 happy service. So they and their children 
 passed on and left the tent. 
 
 And I stood and saw others come before 
 the man ; and some came as these had come, 
 and some seemed to come with lightness and 
 no thought. Then I saw that the man looked 
 very gravely upon such ; and he told them 
 that the king they wished to serve was one 
 who ' searched all hearts, and from whom no 
 secrets were hid.' Then he questioned them 
 closely, and only if they still said that they 
 desired to serve the king, he wrote down their 
 name, and their children's, in the king's book 
 of service, and put the rings upon their
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 147 
 
 fingers; but this he did with a sorrowful 
 face, and told them that if they were not 
 faithful to the king, it would make him punish 
 them more dreadfully than others ; that they 
 had thus been called his servants, and entered 
 as soldiers under him. 
 
 For some time had I looked on this sight, 
 and marked many coming in and going out, 
 until I longed to know how it went with them 
 after they had left the tent how they fought, 
 and who were faithful, and how the little ones 
 grew up who had been so early made soldiers 
 of the king. And as these things were in my 
 mind, methought my guide touched me again, 
 and said, * Thou wouldest see further the end 
 of this matter, then follow me.' So I walked 
 after him out of the tent. Then my vision 
 was changed ; for it was now the first dawn- 
 ing of a summer morning, and we were cross- 
 ing a mountain side, until we stood over a 
 pleasant valley, green with fields, and bright 
 with many flowering trees, and gay flowers
 
 148 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 growing in little gardens, round thatched 
 cottages, from the chimneys of one or two of 
 which the grey-blue smoke was just rising, 
 straight and still, into the clear morning 
 air. 
 
 Then methought my guide cast on my 
 shoulders a beautiful mantle, and straight- 
 way we stood within one of the cottages, un- 
 seen by those around us. We were in an 
 upper room, which was clean and sweet ; for 
 the window was open in the thatched roof, 
 and honeysuckle and sweet roses hung in 
 bunches by it. There were two beds in the 
 room, and one little cradle ; and the clothes 
 on the bed were very coarse and rough, and 
 mended, but all clean and neat and white. 
 In the cradle slept a beautiful babe, and as 
 its little hands were crossed over its breast, 
 I could see that it wore such a tiny ring as 
 had been put upon the children in the 
 tent. In one of the beds lay a little child 
 asleep, and his arm hung down from the bed,
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 149 
 
 and I saw the ring upon his hand. On the 
 side of the bed sat a woman ; I thought 
 I had seen her before, so I looked again all 
 the closer, and I knew that it was the same 
 that I had seen in the tent, offering up her 
 two children with joy to be the servants ot 
 the king. Then I looked for her ring, it 
 was safe upon her hand, and sparkling 
 brighter than ever. By her stood a little 
 boy, just cleanly washed and dressed, though 
 his clothes were rough and poor. I looked 
 into the little one's face, and I saw it was 
 the same child which had been led by the 
 hand in the tent ; but it seemed as if two or 
 three years had passed by since then, for he 
 was grown now into a boy. His mother was 
 speaking to him. She told him that he was 
 the king's servant, nay, his child. She told 
 him that when he was little, she and his 
 father had given him to serve the king ; and 
 she said how good it was of the king to take 
 such children to be his. Then she bade him
 
 150 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 ask the king's help that he might faithfully 
 serve him that very day. 
 
 So the little fellow looked up with a mild 
 face, bent his bare knees, and raised his hands 
 which he had folded together, while he spoke 
 as his mother taught him. And as he put 
 up his hands, I could see his ring. There 
 it was, safe upon his finger, and it was just 
 beginning to sparkle, so that any one could 
 mark it. 
 
 Then methought my guide touched me 
 again, and we stood in another cottage. It 
 was something larger than the last, and 
 the things that were in it were not so 
 coarse as those I had just seen. But al- 
 though they were finer, they did not please 
 me as well, for they were dirty and all un- 
 mended. 
 
 There stood in the room we were in a 
 woman whose face I had seen before. I 
 cast about, until I bethought me that she 
 was one of the careless ones on whom the
 
 She bade him a.sk the King's help that he might faithfully serve him.
 
 THE TENT ON TUB PLAIN. 151 
 
 king's minister had looked very sadly, and to 
 whom he had spoken words of warning 
 when she came with her husband and her 
 children to be entered in the king's book. 
 By her side stood a boy who had then been 
 with her ; bigger he was than the little one 
 in the cottage we had just left; but there 
 was no sparkling light on his ring; and 
 alas ! when I looked at it nearer, I could 
 see that it was moved far from where it had 
 been put upon his finger. His mother had 
 just taken him up, and was dressing him ; 
 and I heard her say that he was c an 
 idle boy/ and in a rough voice she bid him 
 * be quick ;' and then she hurried him down 
 stairs, and never asked help of the king 
 herself, nor bid him ask for it either ; and 
 when she raised her hand to open the latch 
 of the door, I saw that her ring was quite dull, 
 and nearer off her finger than that of the poor 
 boy. 
 
 My heart was very sad at such a sight,
 
 152 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 and whilst I was musing on it, my guide 
 asked me, ' Wouldest thou see yet more ?' 
 When I said, ' Yes,' lie led me forth, arid 
 lo ! it was mid-day, and we stood upon 
 the village green, and the boys of the vil- 
 lage were playing around us; but they 
 saw us not, because the invisible mantle was 
 on me. Then I saw, amongst the rest, 
 the two boys I had seen in the morning, 
 but I marked no difference between them, 
 for they sported and played about like the 
 rest. 
 
 Then the man took from un,der his cloak 
 a wonderful glass, and he bade me look 
 through it at the boys as they played. Now 
 the glass made hidden things plain ; for as 
 soon as I looked through it, I saw around the 
 boys, that the air was full of ugly and veno- 
 mous creatures, who were the king's enemies. 
 As I looked at them through the glass, it 
 seemed as if their names were written upon 
 them, and I could read on one, ' bad
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 153 
 
 thoughts,' and on another, ' peevishness/ and 
 on another, ' anger,' on another, * bad words,' 
 and on another, ' deceit,' and on another, 
 * greediness,' and on the most hateful-look- 
 ing of all, which had a long venomous tongue 
 and a slimy nature, I could read the word 
 1 lie.' Then I saw that these were very busy 
 amongst the boys as they played. That they 
 came near to them, and ' anger' would push 
 one boy against another, to make them 
 quarrel ; and ' bad thoughts' would fly there 
 directly, and bring 'bad words' with them, 
 and they would all hover about them, and 
 help on the quarrel, without the boys seeing 
 or knowing they were there. I saw * greedi- 
 ness,' too, lead some of the boys near to 
 fruit-trees, on which hung rich and ripe fruit, 
 which they had been told not to touch, and 
 then ' deceit ' would whisper to them that 
 nobody would know it, though they should 
 take a little. Then I watched to see how 
 the boys behaved, and I saw the little one
 
 154 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 whose ring was dull in the morning, take of 
 the forbidden fruit, and eat, and then listen 
 to the words of the wicked ' deceit ;' and 
 then the hateful ' lie ' came close to him, and 
 I saw it curl all round the little boy's heart, 
 and his ring got deader and deader, and 
 seemed ready to fall from his finger. Then 
 I saw him offer some of the fruit to the other 
 little one I had seen in the morning. But 
 he shook his head, and drove c greediness ' 
 away, and would not hear a word that 
 
 * deceit' wanted to whisper; for he said, 
 ' I must not tell a lie, and take what is for- 
 bidden me, for I am the king's child, and the 
 king sees all I do.' I saw that as he named 
 
 * the king,' the hateful creatures fled away, 
 and his ring seemed firmer than ever on his 
 finger, and began to shine and sparkle the 
 brighter. So then I knew how even little 
 children could serve the king, and fight against 
 his enemies. 
 
 Then again my guide touched me, and
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN". 155 
 
 he said, ' Follow me :' so I followed him 
 forth, and we soon stood in the midst of a 
 great city, and we passed along its crowded 
 streets. Houses were on this side, and 
 houses on that ; and the clear air was made 
 thick with the smoke of chimneys, and the 
 dust of the streets, but still my guide led me 
 on and on. At last we came to a narrower 
 and more dirty street. Tall old houses, 
 which looked ready to fall, almost touched 
 one another over the narrow road. Dirty 
 children, who looked pale and wretched, 
 screamed in many of the rooms, or sat in a 
 sad sort of half sorrowful play, on the dirty 
 steps of the houses ; and dirty men and 
 women talked loud, and I heard many bad 
 words as we walked along. By one of the 
 dirtiest and worst of all the houses my guide 
 stopped, and we stood within it. No one 
 saw us, for the mantle was on me ; and oh, 
 what a sad sight did I see ! There were 
 many in the room, for a whole family lived in
 
 156 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 it, and they were wicked people ; bad words 
 came out of their mouths as often as they 
 spoke, and they quarrelled and almost fought, 
 and looked as though they hated one another. 
 And now I saw that there was in one corner 
 of this room near to a broken window, a 
 sad-looking bed, in which lay a poor sick 
 boy, who seemed about ten years old. He 
 was very pale and very thin, and there was a 
 bright red spot upon his cheek, and he 
 coughed very often, and seemed in pain. 
 His face was turned towards the window, and 
 his eyes were bent down upon the bed. As 
 I leaned over to see what he looked at, I saw 
 he was reading in a book, and heard him 
 whisper to himself the words, ' Forsake me 
 not when my strength faileth me ' (Ps. 
 Ixxi. 9). Then I saw that it was in the 
 king's book that he was reading, and I heard 
 that he was speaking to the king, and asking 
 HIM to keep him ; and I saw that his ring 
 was so bright and sparkling, it seemed like a
 
 ' ' 
 
 I saw he was reading in a book.
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN*. 157 
 
 little ball of living fire. Then my guide bade 
 me look through the glass ; and what a sight 
 did I see ! All round his bed I could see 
 beautiful forms of heavenly creatures, which 
 the king had sent to watch over him. * Pro- 
 mises ' were there with kind eyes and soft 
 voices whispering ever in his ears. ' Patience* 
 held his aching head in her lap, and * Hope 1 
 was holding a bright crown just over his head, 
 and telling him how soon he would be able to 
 wear it. 
 
 Oh, how sad was it to turn round from 
 the happy bed of the dying child, to the rest 
 of that sinful room ! To look on the dark 
 faces of evil men and women, and to hear 
 their evil words, instead of looking at the 
 mild glad faces of the angel friends of the 
 little one, and catching the soft words with 
 which they cheered his soul. But my guide 
 bade me mark these people well ; and I saw 
 that all their rings were dull ; dull as if they 
 were dead, and well nigh off their fingers.
 
 158 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 More than one seemed to have lost their 
 rings altogether, and one I heard boasting 
 that he never had been happy till he had 
 thrown his away ; but when I looked at him 
 through the glass, I saw ' Misery,' and 
 ' Sorrow/ and * Hatred,' sucking his heart's 
 blood, and the dreadful face of * Despair,' 
 coming nigher and nigher to him every mo- 
 ment. 
 
 And now I thought within myself, how 
 can the child of such parents have learned to 
 serve the king faithfully? My guide answered 
 my thoughts, and he told me that ' once his 
 ring too had seemed dead and well nigh taken 
 from his finger ; but it pleased the king to 
 send a holy man to warn him, and he gave 
 to him the book you have seen him read ; and 
 there came with it a sweet air from the king's 
 presence, which 'bloweth where it listeth,' 
 and the boy began to read in the book and 
 love it ; and as he read he learned to call to 
 the king earnestly for help, and then his ring
 
 THE TENT OX THE PLAIN. 159 
 
 began to settle on his finger, and the shining 
 of the stone to come out and now look at 
 him again, and see his happiness in sorrow.' 
 
 Then I looked again through the glass, 
 and more was showed me than before. But 
 a little above his bed methought there was a 
 golden door, not wholly closed. .And I could 
 see within it a light more beautiful than sun- 
 shine, which came from a throne whose lowest 
 golden steps I could see, and on the top of 
 which, as I doubted not, sat the great king 
 himself. Hundreds and thousands of beauti- 
 ful and happy creatures were there. Some I 
 took for angels, and some methought had 
 once been men and women. But all wore 
 shining crowns, and all were blessed and 
 happy. 
 
 Then as I gazed, methought the door 
 
 opened wider, and I saw the gentlest of all 
 
 those heavenly beings fly down to the sick 
 
 boy's bed ; and ' Mercy ' was written on her 
 
 .brow. She stretched out her hand, and he
 
 160 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 arose, and flew up with them to the golden 
 door ; and I could hear a burst of happy 
 music as they entered, and I saw a bright 
 crown reached out. And the face of the dead 
 boy (for I looked into his bed, and he breathed 
 no more) shone with the bright light of that 
 heavenly temple ! 
 
 Then I awoke from my vision ; but my 
 thoughts still stayed with me, and I saw how 
 good it was to be the soldier of the king, and 
 to fight his battles faithfully. 
 
 Q. Who is the king who takes rebels as 
 his soldiers ? 
 
 A. The Lord our God ; who says, ' Am 
 not I a great king ?' 
 
 Q. Who are these rebels ? 
 
 A. All mankind ; for it is written, c All 
 have sinned and come short of the glory of 
 God ' (Rom. iii. 23). And again : ' We were 
 by nature children of wrath, even as others' 
 (Eph. ii. 3).
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 161 
 
 Q. "When does God receive us out of this 
 state? 
 
 A. At our baptism, 'Wherein we are 
 made members of Christ, children of God, 
 and inheritors of the kingdom of heaven.'* 
 
 Q. What is the ring of adoption ? 
 
 A. Our being taken to be God's own chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Q. What is the sparkling stone ? 
 
 A. The faith by which we must our- 
 selves believe in Christ, if we would be 
 saved. 
 
 Q. What is the meaning of the stone be- 
 coming dull ? 
 
 A. A child of God growing up unfaithful, 
 or forgetful of Him. 
 
 Q. Will baptism do such children any 
 good? 
 
 A. No, not if they continue unfaithful ; for 
 !hen at last they cast off the ring of adop- 
 tion. 
 
 Catechism. 
 
 11
 
 162 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 
 
 Q. What is baptism to such persons ? 
 
 A. A greater condemnation ; as God says, 
 Amos iii. 2. 
 
 Q. How soon may we begin to fight the 
 good fight of faith ? 
 
 A. As soon as we know anything. 
 
 Q. What are the dreadful forms which the 
 glass showed ? 
 
 A. Temptations to sin. 
 
 Q. Then are little children tempted to 
 sin? 
 
 A. Yes ; that they are, very often. 
 
 Q. And how must they resist ? 
 
 A. By remembering whose children they 
 are ; and that God the Father sees them ; and 
 that he for Christ's sake will help them if 
 they pray, and so by asking always for his 
 help. 
 
 Q. What are the good forms the glass 
 showed ? 
 
 A. The helps God will give to those who 
 pray to Him.
 
 THE TENT ON THE PLAIN. 163 
 
 Q. What are we to learn from the dying 
 boy? 
 
 A. That God will take holy children to 
 dwell with him for ever in his heavenly 
 glory.
 
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