"Let my soul bless God the great King," he cries; and looks away
past the present distress; past the Restoration which was to end in
fresh scattering and confusion; past the dream of gold, and
porphyry, and marble defaced by the eagles and emblems of the
conqueror; until his eyes are held by the Jerusalem of God, "built
up with sapphires, and emeralds, and precious stones," with
battlements of pure gold, and the cry of 'Alleluia' in her streets.

Many years later, when he was very aged, he called his son to him
and gave him as heritage his own simple rule of life, adding but
one request: "Keep thou the law and the commandments, and shew
thyself merciful and just, that it may go well with thee. . . .
Consider what alms doeth, and how righteousness doth deliver. . . .
And bury me decently, and thy mother with me." Having so said, he
went his way quietly and contentedly to the Jerusalem of his heart.

It is the simple note of familiarity that is wanting in us; that by
which we link world with world. Once, years ago, I sat by the
bedside of a dying man in a wretched garret in the East End. He
was entirely ignorant, entirely quiescent, and entirely
uninterested. The minister of a neighbouring chapel came to see
him and spoke to him at some length of the need for repentance and
the joys of heaven. After he had gone my friend lay staring
restlessly at the mass of decrepit broken chimney pots which made
his horizon. At last he spoke, and there was a new note in his
voice:-

"Ee said as 'ow there were golding streets in them parts. I ain't
no ways particler wot they're made of, but it'll feel natral like