not sought Him often;--sought Him in vain, all through the night;--
sought Him in vain at the gate of that old garden where the fiery
sword is set? He is never there; but at the gate of THIS garden He
is waiting always--waiting to take your hand--ready to go down to
see the fruits of the valley, to see whether the vine has
flourished, and the pomegranate budded. There you shall see with
Him the little tendrils of the vines that His hand is guiding--there
you shall see the pomegranate springing where His hand cast the
sanguine seed;--more: you shall see the troops of the angel keepers
that, with their wings, wave away the hungry birds from the path-
sides where He has sown, and call to each other between the vineyard
rows, "Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines,
for our vines have tender grapes." Oh--you queens--you queens!
among the hills and happy greenwood of this land of yours, shall the
foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; and in your
cities, shall the stones cry out against you, that they are the only
pillows where the Son of Man can lay His head?



PREFACE TO THE LATER EDITIONS



Being now fifty-one years old, and little likely to change my mind
hereafter on any important subject of thought (unless through
weakness of age), I wish to publish a connected series of such parts
of my works as now seem to me right, and likely to be of permanent
use. In doing so I shall omit much, but not attempt to mend what I
think worth reprinting. A young man necessarily writes otherwise