Ernest left the room, and in a few minutes returned with his own copy of the Pilgrim’s Progress in his hand. He made no observation, but he laid it near his cousin, and then quitted the house with a secret prayer that the poor girl, to whom religion was as yet but a name, might be led to read, and be guided to understand it. As the brothers returned from church arm in arm, Ernest felt more than usual joy and peace shed over his spirit: while all was winter without, all was summer within. It was one of those hours which Christians sometimes meet with in their pilgrimage, perhaps as a foretaste of the bliss that awaits them, when their path appears so bright, and heaven so near, that they feel as though earth’s mists were already left behind, and can scarcely believe that they can ever wander again from the way which they find so delightful. They could then lay down their lives with pleasure for their Lord. Life is happiness to them, for in it they may serve Him; and death no object of terror or doubt, for they know that it can but bring them to Him. _Bless the Lord, O my soul; while I live will I praise Him_, is in the thoughts, and not unfrequently on the lips also: for _out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh_, and the heavenly joy which fills all the spirit will sometimes overflow in words. “O Charley, how joyous the angels’ song sounded to-day! ‘_Glory to God in the highest; on earth peace, good-will toward men._’ What wonder and delight must have filled the hearts of the shepherds when first they listened to that song!” “And the angels, it must have made even angels happier to have carried such a message to the world.” “I have sometimes thought,” said Ernest, “that if an angel from heaven were to live upon this earth, and to be permitted to choose what station he would fill, he would ask,—not to be a conqueror, not to be a king, not even to be one of the geniuses whose discoveries astonish the world, but to be one who might constantly be proclaiming to all the good tidings of a Saviour’s coming, repeating continually that song of heaven, ‘_Glory to God, good-will toward men!_’” “He would be a clergyman, or a missionary, then.” “That is what I should most of all wish to be,” said Ernest, “if I only could be worthy of such an honour.” “Why, you are a lord.” “Were I a prince, what nobler office could I have than to follow in the steps of the apostles and the martyrs—nay, the steps of the Saviour himself? To sow seeds that would blossom in eternity! to be a shepherd over the Lord’s dear flock! Oh, Charles, can we ever realize the full extent of that promise, _They that turn many to righteousness_, shall shine _as the stars for ever and ever!_”