glaring eyes of the monsters. But Daniel becomes the first lion-tamer,
and they lick his hand and fawn at his feet, and that night he sleeps
with the shaggy mane of a wild beast for his pillow, while the king
that night, sleepless in the palace, has on him the paw and teeth of a
lion he can not tame--the lion of a remorseful conscience.

What a picture it would be for some artist; Darius, in the early dusk
of morning, not waiting for footmen or chariot, hastening to the den,
all flushed and nervous and in dishabille, and looking through the
crevices of the cage to see what had become of his prime-minister!
"What, no sound!" he says: "Daniel is surely devoured, and the lions
are sleeping after their horrid meal, the bones of the poor man
scattered across the floor of the cavern." With trembling voice Darius
calls out, "Daniel!" No answer, for the prophet is yet in profound
slumber. But a lion, more easily awakened, advances, and, with hot
breath blown through the crevice, seems angrily to demand the cause of
this interruption, and then another wild beast lifts his mane from
under Daniel's head, and the prophet, waking up, comes forth to report
himself all unhurt and well.

But our text stands us at Daniel's window, open toward Jerusalem. Why
in that direction open? Jerusalem was his native land, and all the
pomp of his Babylonish successes could not make him forget it. He
came there from Jerusalem at eighteen years of age, and he never
visited it, though he lived to be eighty-five years. Yet, when he
wanted to arouse the deepest emotions and grandest aspirations of his
heart, he had his window open toward his native Jerusalem. There are
many of you to-day who understand that without any exposition. This is
getting to be a nation of foreigners. They have come into all
occupations and professions. They sit in all churches. It may be