* Dainty.
"Times have changed," she said, "since our mothers started on their journey. People have come to the conclusion that much in which they believed is mistaken; that for instance it is not necessary to be so different to those who are not servants of the King; that certain things are lawful which in those days were considered dangerous, and that there are many ways after all to the Radiant City. The old-fashioned views with which our mothers started their journey are being more and more questioned and pushed on one side. We must move with the times," she added.
Iddo listened astonished. Loving and reverencing her mother, the girl resented the idea that her views could be anything but correct, and expostulated with Adin indignantly when she termed them old-fashioned. But by degrees she became accustomed to what she heard and began to wonder if there might not be some truth in it.
"Do many people agree with these views?" she asked.
"So many that it is really quite peculiar to think like our mothers," was Adin's answer; then with a laugh she added, "there are a few however who think my friends and I are very far gone in the wrong way. We met an old man on the road, who walked some distance with us, and when he heard one of these new thinkers discussing the subject with mother, he cried out indignantly,"
"'Madam, I hear the enemy's voice in that of your friend. Beware, I beseech you.' And then he turned round on our friend and rated him soundly for what he had been saying, crying,"
"'It is false, it is false, there is one way and only one for each servant of the King, and the path is straight and narrow. The only safe plan is to believe in the Guide Book and not in the imagination of man.' He was so excited," added Adin, "that I was almost amused."
"Was his name Chisleu?" asked Iddo.
"Ah! then you know him?"
"Yes, he was so good to me when mother was in the Valley of Pain, when I had hard work to fight my enemies," said Iddo.
"Yes, he is a good man," said Adin, "one could not doubt that, but oh! how narrow! He is even more narrow than mother; apparently he thinks no one can possibly be in the right path unless they entirely agree with him in every detail. Even mother does not believe that. She thinks there are certain truths that are quite necessary for us all, but that truth may be many-sided, and though there is only one way, the King does not lead each one of His servants by exactly the same path."
"But they must all have the King's mark on them," said Iddo.
"Yes," said Adin, "so mother thinks:" but that she was not very decided on the subject herself was evident from her hesitating answer, and Iddo began to feel a little perplexed and bewildered.
"Anyhow," added Adin, "people have extraordinarily different views about the Guide Book; some seem to be doing all they can to convince us of its untrustworthiness."
"Yes," said Iddo, "I shall never forget how I felt when I heard that for the first time. But you have not lost your faith in it have you?" she asked anxiously.
"Oh no," answered Adin, "but somehow I don't seem to think of it quite in the way that I did. You can't help being a little affected by things you hear."
Iddo suddenly looked around her. She had fancied she had heard a laugh close at her elbow. Was it the enemy? If so he had made himself invisible; but she felt they were on dangerous ground.
They had not noticed that their mothers were by now out of sight and that they had swerved a little from the path. They were so busy talking over these subjects, that it was some time before they realized with a start that they were no longer following their parents, and that they were passing some gates that led into a thickly populated town.
"Oh," cried Iddo, in distress, "we have lost our way!" But Adin was fascinated with the crowds of people that she saw through the gates that were standing wide open. She had not seen so many people congregated together for long, and they were apparently light-hearted and not troubled with the enemy, as they were laughing and talking as if they had not a care.
"Let us go in," she said, "they cannot be dangerous people or allied with the enemy, as they are not even noticing us, but look thoroughly happy and unconcerned. Come, don't be a coward," for Iddo had drawn back.
"But," she said, "I am quite sure mother has not gone that way, I should never find her there."
"How do you know?" said Adin, "why we are nearly sure to come across some other pilgrims who will do their best to help us to find our mothers. There is really nothing to fear."
Looking through the gate Iddo recognized the face of a pilgrim she had met in the way.
"It must be all right," she murmured as they passed through, "as she is here. Perhaps mother may after all have gone this way."
To Iddo's astonishment she recognized many a one whom she had noticed standing listening to the preacher on the heath, and there was something about them that did not exactly re-assure her; they seemed almost to be settling down in the town instead of walking through it, and what filled her with concern was the fact that as yet Adin and she had not found a trace of their own path.
"Will you tell us the name of this place?" said Iddo to a passer-by, who looked good-natured and kind.
"This is a town, in the Land of Indifference," he answered, smiling.
"Are all these people on the way to the Radiant City?" she asked anxiously.
"Many of them profess to be," he answered, looking at her kindly.
"But are you?" she asked.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Ask me an easier question," he said, and turned away.
"People do not like to be questioned," said Adin in a vexed tone of voice, "Come, don't be so worrying, let us anyhow enjoy ourselves while we are here. Look, there are many things to see. It must be a happy place, as almost every one is laughing."
"I have seen quite as many people yawning with weariness," said Iddo; but she quite forgot all the time to open her Guide Book for an explanation of the town, and after all there was so much to be seen and so many people to watch, that gradually the thought of the Radiant City grew dimmer, and the enemy who had led the girls into the town, felt he could safely leave them for a time, while he went to tempt another traveller on the road.
But every now and then Iddo's conscience awoke, and she begged for information of those about her.
"How is it," she asked one who had been joining company with her and her friend, "how is it that people seem so light-hearted here?"
"Because they don't worry about things they cannot understand," she answered lightly, "what is the good of worrying?"
"But don't they ever think of the possibility of not reaching the Radiant City if they stay too long in this place?" she asked.
"But why should you think that even now they are not on their way?" answered her companion. "I take for granted when I think of it at all that I am going there. We do nothing very wrong in this city. I do not think that the enemy is particularly busy here. We are thoroughly steady and respectable and good-natured. What more can you expect of us? Pray don't get it into your head that we are going to be left for ever outside the Radiant City."
"But," said Iddo, perplexed, "I thought every one who journeyed there had to put on armour. And you have none."
"This is such a peaceable place my dear, that we do not need armour. Indeed, some time ago a man passed through this town fully armed, he would not turn to the right hand or to the left. His path he said lay right across, and though we could not but respect and reverence him, as the light of the Radiant City was full on his face, when he had gone, we could not help smiling. What good was his armour to him here? No enemy was likely to attack him. We told him this, and his answer was, 'It is written in the Guide Book, "Be sober, be vigilant, because your adversary the devil, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."' We asked him what guise the enemy was likely to put on to entrap unwary travellers."
"What did he say?" asked Iddo.
"He told us the name of our land would answer that question, and then opening his Guide Book as he walked, he read aloud, '"I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth. Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked; I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich; . . . . Behold, I stand at the door and knock."'"
"Do you know the name of this man?" said Iddo, "it sounds like my friend Heman."
"I do not know his name, as he would not stop; even while he was consulting his Guide Book he was moving on for fear the enemy should attack him and keep him longer in the land. One could not but admire him as he was in such deadly earnest, and one could not but reverence him as he walked, as his whole bearing made one recognise that his King was great, and that the King's business required haste, as he told us. Moreover he had much tact, and those who spoke to him always listened respectfully, and indeed such was his influence as he passed through, that more than one followed him out of the town. I felt sure he would never be content to go out of it alone. In fact he was in it but not of it. But on thinking about it afterwards one could not but wonder that he thought it all of such vital importance. There are other ways of getting to the City besides his. As for me I prefer moving slowly. Enthusiasm does not appeal to me."
"Then the pilgrim did not think it right to linger here?" asked Iddo.
"His path lay right across you see," answered Adin quickly. "We are looking for our path and are as likely to find it in the town as out of it," for Adin had got imbued with the spirit of the land and felt it mattered little that they should find their path at once; why need they worry?
But Iddo, though outwardly satisfied with this argument, was inwardly anxious. The thought of her mother would intrude upon her even in the midst of some pleasurable excitement, with which they were well provided in the town. It is true at times a kind of lethargy crept over her and she would laugh with the rest, as if she had not a care or trouble. But she began to wonder why it was that her enemies apparently left her alone. Her sword was very rusty and the rest of her armour dim, but Adin assured her that they were not needed in this place.
But Iddo was unhappy. She began to pine for the sight of the Radiant City and for travellers who were definitely walking there, and above all things she grew home sick for the conscious Presence of the King Himself.
It is true that she had not enjoyed much of His Presence at any time, for she had depended so much upon what her mother had told her of Him, that she had not sought earnestly enough to know Him herself. But now she began to long for Him, and looked eagerly at the faces of passers-by, hoping that she might find at least one who was bound for the Radiant City.
But again and again she was disappointed. The Land of Indifference was the most unlikely of any place to come across those who had made any definite decision to go to the Radiant City, and many whom she questioned had really not thought about the matter at all.
"The subject does not interest me," they said, looking at her eager upturned face with surprise. "We are here to enjoy ourselves, and have no time to think of such matters." Others would answer her questions with the words, "'Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.'"
Iddo began to wonder if she could possibly persuade Adin to leave the crowded town in search of their paths to the Radiant City. She felt she had not the courage to make the step alone, besides which she found Adin's companionship very attractive, and knew that unless she could take her friend with her she might never see her again. But Adin was far too engrossed with all she saw and heard to wish to leave her present quarters.
"There is plenty of time," she said, when Iddo timidly tried to persuade her that the only right and wise course to take was to leave the Land of Indifference. "Of course I suppose we shall eventually have to go, but I don't mean to go yet."
"I cannot feel at home here," sighed Iddo.
"Not at home?" cried Adin, "why what do you want? After all, you are not my sort, I fear. You are naturally dependent on others, and do not rejoice in your freedom. You should not have left your mother. I would try and find her if I were you, and then follow her step by step. You will never be happy if you don't," and Adin gave a somewhat scornful laugh.
"I dare not go and I dare not stay," murmured Iddo.
"That is just what I say," said Adin, "you have no courage to carve out a line for yourself."
"But," said the girl, stung to resistance, "it has not been a question of my carving out a line for myself. It has really been with me a choice between following my mother and following you. And I do not know why I chose to follow you. My mother never led me astray."
"You had better go," said Adin, "and I will look for another friend who is bolder and more courageous, and who is not always thinking about uncomfortable things like you are. Besides I have come to the conclusion that I have made a mistake about myself all my life. The views you love are cramping. I like to be free. I am much more suited to the Land of Indifference than to the Radiant City. And I really doubt if I have ever been on the way there. I have just followed my mother, that is all."
"Then," said Iddo, "you mean to stay here? and to give up all thoughts of the King and the Radiant City?"
"How do you know there is a King and a Radiant City?" said Adin.
"The enemy must be very near to make you say that," said Iddo gravely. "Oh, don't give way to him. I am quite sure he is seeking your ruin."
"The enemy! Nonsense, child! Why, I find no one believes in the Devil now. The very mention of him raises a smile. Indeed, if you spoke to the inhabitants of this land as you are speaking to me, they would think you were daft. No one who has any learning ever thinks of him. He is a myth."
"Have you learnt all this while you have been here?" said Iddo, sadly.
"Yes, and a great deal more; much that convinces me that it is quite mad to give up the pleasure of this place for the dream that you are following."
"Then," said Iddo, "this shows me how wrong I have been to have come here at all. If they say such things in this land it is no place for a servant of the King," and there was a firmness in her tone of voice and a look of resolute determination in her eyes, which Adin had never thought to see in her timid little friend. She liked her all the better for it.
"Put your scruples away," she urged, "and let us enjoy ourselves. I shall miss you if you go."
"It is so hard to leave you in this town," said Iddo, with tears in her eyes, "if only you would come too. Think what it will be to be shut out of the Radiant City at last!"
"There you are again! In such dead earnest! They are quite right here when they say that people who are on the way to the Radiant City are so terribly tiring. They will not take things as they find them or leave people as they find them, but will always be trying to save them from what they look upon as their doom. Why not let people believe what they like? So long as they are happy, why disturb them?"
"Of course you feel like that if you don't believe in anything strongly," answered Iddo, "but when you are sure that there is a Radiant City, and that those who will not listen to the Voice of the King inviting them there, will be shut out at last, it makes all the difference."
"Go, then, little believer," said Adin, "and try and save others, but don't save me, I beg you;" and with a laugh and nod the girl turned away, and Iddo felt that the last word had been said between them.
She had no friend now in the Land of Indifference, but stood alone. A feeling of great isolation took possession of her; but she knew it was through her own carelessness and fault that she was in such a plight, and she determined at once to leave the place. She had some difficulty in finding her way back. The streets were intricate, and so crowded with men and women that her progress was slow. But no sooner had she begun to retrace her steps in earnest, than she fancied she saw a glimmer of light in the far distance which she knew must come from the Radiant City.
But the enemy who had been watching her for some time, fearful now of losing his prey, began to dodge her steps, and the family of Morbids clung around her, so as to impede her progress.
"There is no use trying to get out of the land," they cried, "you have got too used to its ways. You will not find your mother, you don't deserve it. You have been playing in the enemy's country all this time, and now expect the King to welcome you back. He will never do it. It will take years to get rid of the marks of the land upon you," and by other words they did all they could to drag her back and discourage her.
Then the far worse enemy, Doubt, met her just as she was passing through the gate, and hurled his darts at her face, that for a time she was so blinded by him that no sight could she get of the Radiant City, and she began to wonder if Adin's words were true, and she had been following a mere dream—a mirage. But the very fierceness of the enemy's assault made Iddo cry the louder and the more persistently to the King, and though at first no answer seemed to be vouchsafed and she was only conscious of the sharp arrows of the enemy, she would not give in. The King was her only hope, and she knew He would help her.
"If I die," she cried, "I will die crying to Him, for mercy and help."
At last above the storm of the battle she heard a still small voice, saying,
"'Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out,'" and on looking up, she caught sight of a bright light shining down upon her, the light from the Radiant City. Then she fell on her knees and worshipped her King, and the enemy slunk away.
Iddo had not gone far on the path, which, when out of the Land of Indifference she found lying before her, when she heard singing, and turning a corner she came in sight of a band of pilgrims going her way. The very sound of their voices inspired her with courage and happiness, and, as she followed closely behind them she heard the words of their song:
"O happy band of pilgrims,If onward ye will tread.With Jesus as your Fellow,To Jesus as your Head.""O happy band of pilgrims,Look upward to the skies,Where such a light afflictionShall win you such a prize."
"O happy band of pilgrims,If onward ye will tread.With Jesus as your Fellow,To Jesus as your Head.""O happy band of pilgrims,Look upward to the skies,Where such a light afflictionShall win you such a prize."
"O happy band of pilgrims,If onward ye will tread.With Jesus as your Fellow,To Jesus as your Head.""O happy band of pilgrims,Look upward to the skies,Where such a light afflictionShall win you such a prize."
"O happy band of pilgrims,
If onward ye will tread.
With Jesus as your Fellow,
To Jesus as your Head."
"O happy band of pilgrims,
Look upward to the skies,
Where such a light affliction
Shall win you such a prize."
And as their voices ceased another chimed in,
"My merry heart is springing,And knows not how to pine,'Tis full of joy and singingAnd radiancy divine."
"My merry heart is springing,And knows not how to pine,'Tis full of joy and singingAnd radiancy divine."
"My merry heart is springing,And knows not how to pine,'Tis full of joy and singingAnd radiancy divine."
"My merry heart is springing,
And knows not how to pine,
'Tis full of joy and singing
And radiancy divine."
The words were new to Iddo, but the voice she recognized at once as that of Chisleu.
"Oh, how glad I am to see you," she cried, making her way towards him.
Chisleu turned upon her a face full of calm joy. There was such a change in it that had it not been for the voice she would hardly have recognized it. It was a gentle, chastened, yet radiant face.
"I did not know you sang," said Iddo.
"I have only lately learnt," he said, "I met these good people, and when I said I could not join them in their songs, they pointed out to me that as there was to be so much singing in the Radiant City it was as well to learn on the journey. And it is astonishing how it helps the journey, it seems another thing to me. And moreover I find it does not only make things easier, but in the Guide Book we are commanded to sing and be joyful. I never realized that before."
"Does the King then so much like us to sing that he has written about it in the Guide Book?" said Iddo.
"Yes, I find He has. I had no idea that it was my duty to be happy as well as my pleasure. But I find it written there,"
"'Rejoice evermore.' 'The joy of the Lord is your strength.' 'Is any merry? let him sing psalms.' I only wish I had known this before."
"Why?" asked Iddo.
"For two reasons. One reason being, that, as I say, it makes all the difference in the journey, as the enemy does not like to hear it and it keeps him away. There is nothing that baffles him more I believe than to hear the soldiers singing one of the songs of the Radiant City. And when I have an idea he is near and wants me to listen to him, I cry, 'May Jesus Christ be praised,' and he slinks away. He finds the gloomy soldier by far the easier prey, I fancy, than those who sing. Why it has been so all along."
"How do you know that?" said Iddo.
"In the Guide Book we read about one of the armies of the Lord going to meet a strong enemy. And it says when the Lord's soldiers began to sing the enemy was smitten."
"And what is your other reason?"
"My other reason is that I feel I have done so much harm by my gloominess. A lot of young people whom I might have helped have run away when they have seen me coming, just because I felt it my duty to pick holes in them and to be stern, and to judge them. Now if they had found me singing, who knows but they might have been helped on their journey. Every young thing likes music and merriment. And then there is a third reason which I forgot and which is more important even than the others."
"What is that?" asked Iddo.
"Because a Master is judged by his servants, and a King by his subjects. And if they see that the soldiers and servants of the Great King of the Radiant City are cheerful and happy, they naturally think it must be the service of the King that makes them so. Child," he added, "I feel ashamed when I think of what people must have thought of my King, when they heard my censorious words and looked at my gloomy, angry face. I, of all His servants, ought to rejoice."
"Why, Mr. Chisleu?" asked Iddo.
"Why? Because He has done great things for me. I have done so much harm on the road, made so many mistakes, even once went so far as to doubt His love, thinking He had forgotten me, while all the time He was looking down upon me in love and tenderness, and sent my good friend Amer at last to persuade me of this. I, of all men, should be full of joy and thankfulness."
"And do you think," said Iddo, "that I ought to learn to sing?"
"Aye! sure enough you should. Have you nothing to be thankful for?" Even as he spoke, a little enemy crept out of the grass at his feet and looked at him.
For a moment Chisleu was taken so much by surprise, as he was not expecting one, that he started. Then he recognized him as one of a band of rebels whose names are Conceit, Self-Satisfaction, and Complacency, and at once he drew his sword, while at the same time he sang "'May Jesus Christ be praised,'" and at the sound of his singing and the sight of his sword, the enemy slunk away.
"Do you see that fellow?" asked Chisleu of Iddo, "I know him and his comrades of old. I think he has been particularly troublesome since I have learnt to sing, as I don't remember meeting him so often in the old days. It is because he hates me singing the King's songs. I expect," he added, "he looks out for every occasion to turn my song to his own advantage. I see I must be on the watch against him."
"I did not see the enemy," said Iddo, "I wonder why he attacked you while you were helping me."
"Perhaps just because I was helping you: and after all," added Chisleu thoughtfully, "if ever there is a chance for the enemy it is when we are talking of ourselves. We have to do it occasionally, I suppose, but very occasionally, and then we must remember that we do it at our own peril. Sometimes it is a duty to brave this danger for the sake of another; but often we think we are braving it for another's sake, while all the time it is for our own sake, that we may be thought well of, or in a spirit of self-congratulation. You see the words of the Guide Book are true,"
"'The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.'"
"But," said Iddo, "you always seem to me so good, surely there is no need for you to be so watchful."
Chisleu's face changed, as he turned and looked upon her with sternness.
"My child, don't do the enemy's work. He failed just now, and so he is trying to catch me through your lips. Never flatter."
Iddo was startled, and could not help comparing the intense earnestness of the soldier of the King, with the utter indifference she had been impressed with in the land she had left: and at the same time, Chisleu's face having regained its calm joy, she could not but contrast the peace and happiness written so plainly there and in the faces of the other pilgrims, who were walking so merrily on in front of her, with the artificial merriment of that land.
Everyone there had seemed to her, the more she knew them, to be making amusement their work rather than their recreation. She was sure it was sometimes real hard work. And when the excitement was over she had often seen a look of weariness on the faces of those who had worked the hardest to procure the fun.
Iddo found that the pilgrims' songs were not all directly about the Radiant City and its King. They sang about the beauties of the way, of the flowers the King had raised to cheer them, of the trees He had planted to give them shade, of the changing sky overhead, and the sweet-scented winds about them; of the stars and sun the King had created to give them light on the way, of the ever-moving sea, of which they often caught glimpses, of all the wonders of nature; they sang also of the beauty of love, of acts of heroism, of thoughts too deep for words, and when Iddo expressed some surprise at what she heard, Chisleu reminded her of the words in the Guide Book,
"'The works of the Lord are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein.'"
Iddo was much struck by noticing the great change in Chisleu, how his voice had softened, and his mind expanded, and how, instead of thinking that every one was in the wrong, he constantly confessed that he was in the wrong himself, and imputed good motives to people where others found it difficult to do so.
But every now and then the old enemies got the better of him; he would suddenly irritably interrupt the pilgrims in their songs, with the complaint that they were singing out of tune, or too fast for the newcomers, or had put the wrong tune to the words. And now and then his irritability would become infectious, so that he would suddenly awake to the fact that he had been the means of discord.
But whenever this happened he confessed his sin so humbly, that the enemy, who had done what he could to make him inconsistent, had to retreat, with the knowledge that Chisleu's quick confession of sin, instead of resulting in confusion and in making an occasion for other enemies to run in, had been the means of shaming some of the pilgrims who had given way, and had caused them to resist the enemy.
"Mr. Chisleu," said Iddo, "I want to learn to sing. Will you teach me?"
"Teach you! Nay, you must go to the King Himself for that. We can only sing when He teaches us."
When Iddo next met her mother she had learnt to sing, and her mother thought her voice the sweetest she had ever heard. She was not alone in her opinion. Many a one was cheered on his way to the Radiant City by the sound of it. Some who had fallen on the road, being hard pressed by the enemy, and the victims of Despondency or Despair, lifted up their heads, as Iddo's voice caught their ears, while others who were on the eve of wandering from the right path, resolutely turned away from the enemy who was tempting them. For Iddo sang of the wonderful love of the King, Who had died for them, and was even then watching them, and of the glory and brightness of the Radiant City to which they were travelling. And she sang moreover of the Coming of the King, to which she was looking forward now with ardent expectation. And the words she sang were these:—
"Thou art coming, oh my Saviour,Thou art coming, oh my King,In Thy beauty, all resplendent,In Thy glory, all-transcendent;Well may we rejoice and sing;Coming:—In the opening East,Herald brightness slowly swells;Coming:—O my glorious Priest,Hear we not Thy golden bells?"
"Thou art coming, oh my Saviour,Thou art coming, oh my King,In Thy beauty, all resplendent,In Thy glory, all-transcendent;Well may we rejoice and sing;Coming:—In the opening East,Herald brightness slowly swells;Coming:—O my glorious Priest,Hear we not Thy golden bells?"
"Thou art coming, oh my Saviour,Thou art coming, oh my King,In Thy beauty, all resplendent,In Thy glory, all-transcendent;Well may we rejoice and sing;Coming:—In the opening East,Herald brightness slowly swells;Coming:—O my glorious Priest,Hear we not Thy golden bells?"
"Thou art coming, oh my Saviour,
Thou art coming, oh my King,
In Thy beauty, all resplendent,
In Thy glory, all-transcendent;
Well may we rejoice and sing;
Coming:—In the opening East,
Herald brightness slowly swells;
Coming:—O my glorious Priest,
Hear we not Thy golden bells?"
One day in the midst of her singing, Iddo felt her mother, with whom she was walking hand in hand, step forward alone, towards a river running at the foot of the hill, which the girl had not noticed. A sudden panic of apprehension seized her.
"Mother, Mother," she cried: but even as she spoke, her mother turned round with a radiant smile on her face, and, waving farewell to her child stepped into the waters with a song on her lips.
Iddo sank on to the ground, her song silenced.
For a time she lay quite still, her face hidden in the long grass, her hands outstretched in misery. Then suddenly across the hills came the voices of the pilgrims singing:—
"Oh sweet and blessed country,The home of God's elect!Oh sweet and blessed country,That eager hearts expect:Jesus, in mercy bring usTo that dear land of rest;Who art, with God the Father,And Spirit, ever bless'd."
"Oh sweet and blessed country,The home of God's elect!Oh sweet and blessed country,That eager hearts expect:Jesus, in mercy bring usTo that dear land of rest;Who art, with God the Father,And Spirit, ever bless'd."
"Oh sweet and blessed country,The home of God's elect!Oh sweet and blessed country,That eager hearts expect:Jesus, in mercy bring usTo that dear land of rest;Who art, with God the Father,And Spirit, ever bless'd."
"Oh sweet and blessed country,
The home of God's elect!
Oh sweet and blessed country,
That eager hearts expect:
Jesus, in mercy bring us
To that dear land of rest;
Who art, with God the Father,
And Spirit, ever bless'd."
Gradually the words of the beautiful song brought comfort and healing to her heart, and before long her voice was heard, sweet and true, as she walked through the Valley of the Shadow, for she could be silent no longer, as the King Himself had taught her to sing—even songs in the night.
Amer's path had now for some time led him by the banks of the river that flowed through the Valley of the Shadows. In its shadows he found many waiting for the King's guard to take them across, and going in and out among them, Amer did what he could to remind them of the King's love and of His mercy.
He had not much time to think now of his own dangers and difficulties, indeed he had to leave the keeping of his soul to his faithful Creator and King; and he was surrounded with an invisible army of angels, who warded the enemy off again and again when he was engaged with those he was seeking to comfort.
Every now and then, however, he found himself gripped by the enemies who are peculiarly busy with those soldiers who are spending their lives in working for others.
When Amer saw some of the pilgrims, as they passed through the valley, paying but scant notice (because wrapped up in their own soul's welfare) to those in hopeless misery who were on the borders of the river, he found himself again and again passing a hard judgment on their conduct, and criticising their selfishness, forgetting that there had been a time in his own history, when his thoughts had been so engaged with the health of his own soul, that he had had no eyes to see the needs of others.
Then there were some who did what they could to help, but whose help was so unwise in Amer's eyes, and so far from being profitable, that the enemy, Impatience, took hold of him, and pushed him to the ground more than once. He had in fact, constantly to be reminding himself of the words in the Guide Book,
"'Judge not, that ye be not judged,' 'Who art thou that judgest another man's servant? to his own master he standeth or falleth.'" And when he felt conscious of these enemies he could only cry to his King, as he drew out his sword, and his cry was always heard and answered.
Amer's voice was the last that many a pilgrim heard this side of the dark river.
He had been in the Valley for some time when he suddenly heard his name spoken by a voice that made his heart beat, and he saw, standing on the very brink of the river, Gabrielle, but so altered that he hardly recognized her. Indeed, though she looked so pale and thin that he felt she must be very near the end of her journey, the expression of her face was so unlike that he had ever seen upon it that he was amazed; it reminded him of the light that he had noticed on the face of Heman as he passed to the Radiant City.
"You did not expect to meet me on the journey," she said, as he grasped her hands, "but Amer, when I saw you were in such dead earnest and would not give up the Radiant City or your King even for me, I felt there must be some truth in what others told me was a mere legend, and I could not rest till I had set out on the same journey."
"And Desmond?" asked Amer.
"I never married him," she answered, "how could I when once I had known you. When I told you I should, I said it out of pique, I never really intended to, though my father did all he could to persuade me. But I could not rest till I had passed through the East Gate. But oh! my journey has been so short! I have had such a little time in which to prove my loyalty to my King. Just a few short weeks! And now I have to cross the River. How can I be sure that the King will receive me after forgetting Him for so long? I feel the enemy Doubt is doing what he can to wrench my soul away from Him."
Amer looked at the River and noticed that across it lay the shadow of the Cross, as it had done during the passing of Heman.
"Dearest," he said, "you must get beneath the Cross, then Doubt will fly from you."
"Is it there for me?" she asked faintly.
"As much for you as for the warrior who for years has fought under the King's banner."
"Help me to get within its shadow," she pleaded: and Amer, putting his arm around her, gently moved her in its direction, and as she stood beneath its shadow, he saw a peace steal across her face.
"I think my feet have touched the brink," she whispered, "I wish, oh! I wish, you were coming too."
"I will not leave you till the King has hold of your hand," said Amer, as her head sunk on his breast.
"Are you quite sure I am under the shadow of the Cross?" she murmured.
"Yes, these are the King's own words," he answered:
"'As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up: that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have eternal life.' 'Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.'"
"Then He must have come to save me," said Gabrielle, but her words were so faint that Amer could scarcely hear them.
Suddenly she raised her head from his shoulder.
"It is the King," she said, while a radiance from the City lighted her face, "He is calling to me," and Amer, as he loosed his hold of her, saw her step down into the cold waters and stretch out her hand to some Invisible One.
Then, as he stood still as if turned to stone, he suddenly fell to the ground, for an enemy whom he had never met before had fallen upon him. Rebellion had thrown his arrow successfully at him, and now stood over his fallen prey so that he was unable to rise. For the time his shadow was so deep and dark that Amer nearly lost the sight of the Radiant City: and so well did Rebellion do his work that his victim lay without so much as an effort to rid himself of him. He could only think of the one he had found but to lose again, and was full of hard thoughts of the way by which he was being led. He could not live without Gabrielle, he cried. So successfully had he hitherto managed to banish her from his thoughts, that he had imagined that his love for her could never again be roused to its full heat. But now that he had once more seen her, had looked into her eyes, had heard her voice, and had found her so infinitely sweeter than he could have pictured, he felt his will rise up against the will of his King, and so lay unresistingly in the grip of Rebellion. His strength all seemed to have vanished, his work to have lost its interest, his path impossible to tread any longer.
Suddenly in the distance he heard the sound of singing.
"If God Himself be for meI can a host defy."
"If God Himself be for meI can a host defy."
"If God Himself be for meI can a host defy."
"If God Himself be for me
I can a host defy."
It was the band of singing pilgrims, Iddo and Chisleu amongst them, praising, as they passed on the heights above the Dark Valley.
Then, with a sudden spring, Amer leapt up, and drawing his sword, he fought. Fought in the strength of his King, crying out all the time for help to overcome. And the enemy, taken by surprise, and perceiving that this soldier, who had looked so weak and helpless, was now resolved to conquer, gradually drew back, till a favourable moment came to turn and fly.
Then once more Amer took up his work in the Valley, and found that the thought of Gabrielle having passed to the Radiant City made it seem nearer to him than ever before, and recognized the fact that though divided from him by the River, she was really much closer to him than she had ever been while in the Dark City.
Amer's path now led him across a plain, it was bare and treeless, but every now and then he came by green pastures and still waters and was refreshed on his monotonous journey. He was able to hold communion too with his King, and though this part of his journey was free from any special incident, he learnt lessons of trust and patience which he might not have been able to learn in the stress and noise of hard warfare. It was not long before he came to a town, the inhabitants of which struck him as looking more miserable than those he had ever met before.
"What is the name of this place?" he asked of one.
"It is the City of Despair," he answered, with a fierce and angry stare. "You have but to look around you to learn its name."
And as Amer's path led him into it he was filled with horror at all he saw.
Some were sitting by the road side with their heads bowed in their hands, the picture of misery; others were fast asleep, and Amer noticed that at the head and feet of these, little black imps were sitting keeping guard, so that at the least sign of waking they might administer narcotics and soothe them off to sleep again; some were raging and roaring about the streets, while others looked on laughing loudly, but their laughter rang hollow and suggested more misery than the sobs that issued from their fellows.
Amer found he was not the only soldier of the King who had entered the City of Despair. Some were there before him who had, like him, been struck with its horror and misery, and were fighting with all their might the evil spirits which were enslaving so many.
"What is the meaning of all this?" asked Amer.
"It means," said one of his fellow soldiers, "that hundreds in this place have either not heard of our King or hearing of Him will have nothing to do with Him; and the Devil and his angels are doing their best to shut their ears and to lull them off into the sleep of death, so that the Good News may never reach them. We are here, and you, my friend, have been sent here, to proclaim the Good News and to fight the enemy that is destroying these people, soul and body; and the fight is long and fierce. We need to watch and we need to pray, and to hold close communion with our King. For we find the enemy will suddenly turn upon us and try and rend us, when he sees us bent upon destroying his work here and that we are resolved to do what we can to liberate his slaves. It is the greatest honour anyone can have to be led to work in this City, for it is in the forefront of the battle. But remember, friend, you must pray, you must pray."
Then a great yearning came into the heart of Amer to tell these people of the King of the Radiant City, and he began to go up and down the streets proclaiming the Good News.
Many a one looked up at him with eyes full of misery, to shake their heads with the cry,