  Picture to yourself “a city set upon a hill,” a [2] celestial city above all clouds, in serene azure and unfathomable glory: having no temple therein, for God is the temple thereof; nor need of the sun, neither of the [5] moon, for God doth lighten it. Then from this sacred summit behold a Stranger wending his way downward, to where a few laborers in a valley at the foot of the moun- tain are working and watching for his coming. The descent and ascent are beset with peril, priva- [10] tion, temptation, toil, suffering. Venomous serpents hide among the rocks, beasts of prey prowl in the path, wolves in sheep's clothing are ready to devour; but the Stranger meets and masters their secret and open attacks with serene confidence. [15] The Stranger eventually stands in the valley at the foot of the mountain. He saith unto the patient toilers therein: “What do ye here? Would ye ascend the moun- tain,—climbing its rough cliffs, hushing the hissing serpents, taming the beasts of prey,—and bathe in its [20] streams, rest in its cool grottos, and drink from its living fountains? The way winds and widens in the valley; up the hill it is straight and narrow, and few there be that find it.” His converse with the watchers and workers in the [1] valley closes, and he makes his way into the streets of a city made with hands. Pausing at the threshold of a palatial dwelling, he knocks and waits. The door is shut. He hears the [5] sounds of festivity and mirth; youth, manhood, and age gayly tread the gorgeously tapestried parlors, dancing- halls, and banquet-rooms. But a little while, and the music is dull, the wine is unsipped, the footfalls abate, the laughter ceases. Then from the window of this dwel- [10] ling a face looks out, anxiously surveying him who waiteth at the door. Within this mortal mansion are adulterers, fornicators, idolaters; drunkenness, witchcraft, variance, envy, emu- lation, hatred, wrath, murder. Appetites and passions [15] have so dimmed their sight that he alone who looks from that dwelling, through the clearer pane of his own heart tired of sin, can see the Stranger. Startled beyond measure at beholding him, this mortal inmate withdraws; but growing more and more troubled, [20] he seeks to leave the odious company and the cruel walls, and to find the Stranger. Stealing cautiously away from his comrades, he departs; then turns back,—he is afraid to go on and to meet the Stranger. So he returns to the house, only to find the lights all wasted and the music [25] fled. Finding no happiness within, he rushes again into the lonely streets, seeking peace but finding none. Naked, hungry, athirst, this time he struggles on, and at length reaches the pleasant path of the valley at the foot of the mountain, whence he may hopefully look for [30] the reappearance of the Stranger, and receive his heavenly guidance. The Stranger enters a massive carved stone mansion, [1] and saith unto the dwellers therein, “Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” But they understand not his saying. These are believers of different sects, and of no sect; [5] some, so-called Christian Scientists in sheep's clothing; and all “drunken without wine.” They have small con- ceptions of spiritual riches, few cravings for the immortal, but are puffed up with the applause of the world: they have plenty of pelf, and fear not to fall upon the Stranger, [10] seize his pearls, throw them away, and afterwards try to kill him. Somewhat disheartened, he patiently seeks another dwelling,—only to find its inmates asleep at noontide! Robust forms, with manly brow nodding on cushioned [15] chairs, their feet resting on footstools, or, flat on their backs, lie stretched on the flo
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