left
far behind, and she had returned to her place, and to her peaceful state,
and to the work which had been given her,--to receive the wanderers and
to bid them a happy welcome as the doors opened and they entered into
their inheritance. And thus her soul was satisfied, though she knew now
nothing more than she had known always,--that the eye of the Father is
over all, and that He can neither forget nor forsake.

II.

ON THE DARK MOUNTAINS.

When the little Pilgrim had been thus permitted to see the secret
workings of God in earthly places, and among the brethren who are still
in the land of hope,--these being things which the angels desire to look
into, and which are the subject of story and of song not only in the
little world below, but in the great realms above,--her heart for a long
time reposed and was satisfied, and asked no further question. For she
had seen what the dealings of the Father were in the hearts of men, and
how till the end came He did not cease to send His messengers to plead in
every heart, and to hold a court of justice that no man might be
deceived, but each know whither his steps were tending, and what was the
way of wisdom. After this it was permitted to her to read in the archives
of the heavenly country the story of one, who, neglecting all that the
advocates of God could say, had found himself, when the little life was
completed, not upon the threshold of a better country, but in the midst
of the Land of Darkness,--that region in which the souls of men are left
by God to their own devices, and the Father stands aloof, and hides His
face and calls them not, neither persuades them more. Over this story the
little Pilgrim had shed many tears; for she knew well, being enlightened
in her great simplicity by the heavenly wisdom, that it was pain and
grief to the Father to turn away His face; and that no one who has but
the little heart of a man can imagine to himself what that sorrow is in
the being of the great God. And a great awe came over her mind at the
thought, which seemed well-nigh a blasphemy, that He could grieve; yet in
her heart, being His child, she knew that it was true. And her own little
spirit throbbed through and through with longing and with desire to help
those who were thus utterly lost. 'And oh!' she said, 'if I could but go!
There is nothing which could make a child afraid, save to see them
suffer. What are darkness and terror when the Father is with you? I am