these things. Men's bodies, and still more men's property, are
safely protected among us. But how is it about men's souls? How will
it be when the rulers of England shall stand at the Bar whence there is
no appeal, and hear from the great Judge the awful requirement,--"Where
is thy flock that was given thee, thy beautiful flock?" Shall we hear
about "want of power"--which generally means want of will--about "the
voice of the nation," and "the spirit of the age," and "respect to the
opinions of others," and the numberless little fictions with which men
wile their souls to sleep, here and now? Will the Bishop who swore
before God to "drive away all erroneous and strange doctrine contrary to
His Word," offer to the Judge then those convenient excuses with which
he salves over his conscience now? Will the statesman who followed the
multitude to do evil, instead of leading them to do good, urge in His
presence who seeth in secret the platitudes about majorities and the
national will which he finds satisfactory now? There is a very solemn
passage in God's neglected and despised Word, concerning him who knew
his Lord's will, and did it not.

Another Easter passed away, and left them safe. The summer was a
season, not so much of suffering, as of fear and waiting. They were
tarrying the Lord's leisure. A few months later, Isoult Avery wrote in
her diary--

"My birthday, and I am now forty-five years of age. It is not unmeet
that I should tarry a while at the milestones, and look back on the way
by which the Lord hath led me. This last year hath been very woeful and
weary. What shall the next be?

"O Lord, Thou knowest. All the way is of Thine ordering, all guided by
wisdom that never erreth, by love that never waxeth faint. I will trust
Thy wisdom to devise, and Thy love to effect. Father in Heaven! let me
not faint under Thy correction, neither let me despise Thy chastening.
Be merciful unto me, O Lord, be merciful unto me! And Thou (not I)
knowest best how and when I need Thy mercy. Hear (and if need be,
forgive) the cry which echoes in mine heart for ever--`If it be
possible,' give us back our darling!"

The great Emperor Charles the Fifth died on the 21st of September in
this year, in the monastery of San Yuste, whither he went to "make his
salvation" in his old age.

"I trust," said Isoult, when she heard it, "that he repented him, among
other sins, of his ill-using of his mother. There shall doubtl