s cherubim that waved illumined wings of
tenderer radiance now--and gazed over the broad outspread of marvelous
color; and thought of the summer that had come and gone since they had
stood there, last, together, and of the beauty that had breathed alike
on earth and into life, for them.

"Faith, darling! Tell me your thought," said Roger Armstrong.

"This was my thought," Faith answered, slowly. "That first sermon you
preached to us--that gave me such a hope, then--that comes up to me so,
almost as a warning, now! The poor--that were to have the kingdom! And
then, those other words--'how hardly shall they who have riches enter
in!' And I am _so_ rich! It frightens me."

"Entire happiness does make one tremble. Only, if we feel God in it, and
stand but the more ready for His work, we may be safe."

"His work--yes," Faith answered. "But now he only gives me rest. It
seems as if, somehow, I were not worthy of a hard life. As if all things
had been made too easy for me. And I had thought, so, of some great and
difficult thing to do."

Then Faith told him of the oracle that, years ago, had first wakened her
to the thought of what life might be; of the "high and holy work" that
she had dreamed of, and of her struggles to fulfill it, feebly, in the
only ways that as yet had opened for her.

"And now--just to receive all--love, and help, and care--and to rest,
and to be so wholly happy!"

"Believe, darling, that we are led, through all. That the oil of joy is
but as an anointing for a nobler work. It is only so I dare to think of
it. We shall have plenty to do, Faithie! And, perhaps, to bear. It will
all be set before us, in good time."

"But nothing can be _hard_ to do, any more. That is what makes me almost
feel unworthy. Look at Nurse Sampson. Look at Glory. They have only
their work, and the love of God to help them in it. And I--! Oh, I am
not poor any longer. The words don't seem to be for me."

"Let us take them with their double edge of truth, then. Holding
ourselves always poor, in sight of the infinite spiritual riches of the
kingdom. Blessed are the poor, who can feel, even in the keenest earthly
joy, how there is a fullness of life laid up in Him who gives it, of
whose depth the best gladness here is but a glimpse and foretaste! We
will not be selfishly or unworthily content, God helping us, my little
one!"

"It is so hard _not_ to be content!" whispered Faith, as the strong,
manly arm held her, in its s