of the nations into it." There the nations
shall be one in the streets of the city of God, all their contendings
forgotten in the sense of their brotherhood, following the one ideal,
obeying the one law, loving each other in the love of God. They will
strive then as to who shall bring the greatest glory within the compass
of its walls, and that will be the only striving.

That is the ideal, that we should become a nation so permeated by the
spirit of God, so brought into obedience to His will, that our cities
shall become holy cities, even as the new Jerusalem coming down from
God out of heaven. When we shall set ourselves to realise that ideal
once more, then will the nation evoke the devotion of its citizens, for
devotion to the nation will also be devotion to God.

It was that ideal which fired the patriotism of the Jew. The same
ideal alone will make our patriotism glow as a white flame. When the
vision of the Supreme Ruler whose throne is established in
righteousness once more blazes forth before the people, then once more
the throb of patriotism and the passion to make righteous law operative
to the ends of the earth will stir the heart, and the manhood of the
race will once more thrill with the call summoning to service and to
sacrifice. The answering shout will everywhere arise--For God and the
King.

III

The Shadow of the Cross

III

The churchyard of our parish lies in a deep hollow, and a little river
half encircles it. In the midst of it stands the church beneath whose
shadow the parish has garnered its dead for centuries. There the
generations have lain down to sleep, their hearts reconciled one to
another, and the beadle has drawn the coverlet of green over them. As
he goes about his allotted task he pats a mound here and there gently
with the back of his spade--for roadman and belted earl are at one here.

The last time I wandered down to the hollow it seemed as if eternal
peace brooded over the living and the dead. The leaves, russet and
gold, glowed in the sunlight. At the stirring of a gentle breeze, like
the dropping of a sea-bird's feather, leaf after leaf fluttered
silently down on the graves. The great bank of trees across the river
glowed with rivulets of dull flames running hither and thither. In its
stony bed the river sang its endless song. The immemorial yews,
beneath whose branches successive generations of children have played
with now and then a thrill of p