Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and behold the city shone like the sun; the streets also were paved with gold, and in them walked many men, with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps, to sing praises withal. There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without intermission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord." And after that, they shut up the gates; which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them. John Bunyan (Pilgrim's Progress). XLVI. A LEGEND OF THE RED, WHITE, A STRONG and mighty angel, Calm, terrible and bright, The cross in blended red and blue Upon his mantle white! Two captives by him kneeling, Each on his broken chain, Dropping his cross-wrought mantle, "Wear this," the angel said; "Take thou, O Freedom's priest, its sign,- Then rose up John de Matha In the strength the Lord Christ gave, And begged through all the land of France The ransom of the slave. The gates of tower and castle The drawbridge at his coming fell, The door-bolts backward drew. For all men owned his errand, At last, outbound from Tunis, His bark her anchor weighed, But, torn by Paynim hatred, "God save us!" cried the captain, "Behind us are the Moormen; Then up spake John de Matha : Take thou the mantle which I wear, They raised the cross-wrought mantle, "God help us!" cried the seamen, Then up spake John de Matha: "My mariners, never fear! The Lord whose breath has filled her sail So on through storm and darkness And on the walls the watchers The ship of mercy knew,- And the bells in all the steeples, To welcome home to Christian soil, So runs the ancient legend With rudder foully broken, Before her, nameless terror: The clouds are black above her, The hope of all who suffer, While up to God the freedmen's prayers Is not your sail the banner Its hues are all of heaven,- The whiteness of the moon-lit cloud, Wait cheerily, then, O mariners, Sail on, sail on, deep freighted Behind ye holy martyrs Uplift the palm and crown; Before ye unborn ages send Their benedictions down. Take heart from John de Matha! Sweep on through storm and darkness, Sail on the morning cometh, And all the bells of God shall ring The good ship bravely in! J. G. Whittier. XLVII. THE CATACOMBS.* IN the times of persecution the Christians of Rome often found refuge in what are now called the Catacombs. These Catacombs were passages underground, some of them very deep and long. If you have ever been through a railway tunnel, you will be able to understand what they were like, only that they were not so large, and were quite dark, and you had to go a long way down steep steps to get to them. They were many miles in length, and any one going into them without a guide and a light would be sure to lose himself, and most likely would never come out again alive. They were first made by digging out sand and * By kind permission of the Religious Tract Society. |