" Mountains I had never seen; they were a
glorious dream to me. And a rose that grew on a mountain must
surely be prettier than any of our red wild roses on the hill,
sweet as they were. I would pluck that rose, and carry it up the
mountain-side into the temple where the King sat, and would give
it to Him; and then He would touch me with his sceptre, and let
me through into a garden full of flowers. There was no garden in
the hymn; I suppose the "rose" made me invent one. But it did
read--
"I know his courts; I'll enter in,
Whatever may oppose;"
and so I fancied there would be lions in the way, as there were
in the Pilgrim's, at the "House Beautiful"; but I should not be
afraid of them; they would no doubt be chained. The last verse
began with the lines,--
"I can but perish if I go:
I am resolved to try:"
and my heart beat a brave echo to the words, as I started off in
fancy on a "Pilgrim's Progress" of my own, a happy little
dreamer, telling nobody the secret of my imaginary journey, taken
in sermon-time.
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