THE AMARANTH. 213 



still water, but without the old bloom and fragrance. 

 Well might Achilles in such an Elysium declare 



" I had rather live 



The servile hired for hire, and eat the bread 

 Of some man scantily himself sustained, 

 Than sovereign empire hold o'er all the shades." 



Not a whit more satisfactory are the Christian 

 conceptions of the future world in the minds of many 

 persons. They have fearfully vivid ideas of the punish- 

 ment of the wicked ; but regarding the reward of 

 the righteous they believe in the most literal manner 

 that " eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor have 

 entered into the heart of man the things which God 

 hath prepared for them that love Him." It is a 

 far-off realm, receding into dimness and vagueness 

 by the distance to which we remove it, like a star 

 of the tenth magnitude ; leaving all past experience, 

 all hopes and forms of happiness which the imagination 

 had hitherto conceived, and the heart had learned to 

 love, utterly behind it. And hence it is that descrip- 

 tions of heaven, however gorgeous and transcendental, 

 usually fail to interest or impress us. The mind is 

 lost in the vagueness, and the heart knows not where 

 to fix. Permanence is the only definite idea we 

 associate with it. We accept the jewelled walls and 

 golden streets of the heavenly city, substances the 

 most precious and indestructible that we know, as 

 satisfactory symbols of its unchanging endurance. And 

 the contrast between this feature and our experience 

 of the fleeting possessions and enjoyments of earth 



