And as the sun shone rosy with mist, I naturally thought of the next
following stanza of the same hymn:

"I saw the obsequious seraphim
Their rosy fleece of fire bestow;
For well they now can spare their wings,
Since Heaven itself lies here below.
Well done! said I; but are you sure
Your down, so warm, will pass for pure?"

Adela, pale face and all, was down in time for church; and she and the
colonel and I walked to it together by the meadow path, where, on each
side, the green grass was peeping up through the glittering frost. For
the colonel, notwithstanding his last night's outbreak upon the
clergy, had a profound respect for them, and considered church-going
one of those military duties which belonged to every honest soldier
and gentleman. Percy had found employment elsewhere.

It was a blessed little church that, standing in a little meadow
church-yard, with a low strong ancient tower, and great buttresses
that put one in mind of the rock of ages, and a mighty still river
that flowed past the tower end, and a picturesque, straggling,
well-to-do parsonage at the chancel end. The church was nearly covered
with ivy, and looked as if it had grown out of the churchyard, to be
ready for the poor folks, as soon as they got up again, to praise God
in. But it had stood a long time, and none of them came, and the
praise of the living must be a poor thing to the praise of the dead,
notwithstanding all that the Psalmist says. So the church got
disheartened, and drooped, and now looked very old and grey-headed. It
could not get itself filled with praise enough.--And into this old,