Crown and sceptre, sword and buckler—­
    Baubles!—­lay them at her feet. 
  Strife no more shall vex creation;
    Christ’s is now the kingly seat.

  Cities, empires, kingdoms, powers,
    In one mighty realm divine. 
  She, the least and last of nations,
    Henceforth as their head shall shine.

  ’Tis thy future glory, Zion,
    Glittering in celestial rays,
  As the ocean’s sun-lit surging
    Rolls upon my raptured gaze!

  All that ages past have promised,
    All that noblest minds have prized,
  All that holy lips have prayed for,
    Here at last is realized.

  —­Orson F. Whitney.

I.

  “Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is
  risen upon thee. * * * And the Gentiles shall come to thy light and
  kings to the brightness of thy rising.”—­Isaiah 60:1, 3.

The sun in its downward course had reached the hazy zone, which, bounded by the clear blue above and the horizon below, extended around the green earth; in the west, the round disk of the sun shone through it, and tinged the landscape with a beautiful, mellow light.

It was midsummer.  The sun had been hot all the day, and when on that evening two men reined in the horses they were driving, and paused on the summit of a small hill, a cool breeze reached them, and they bared their heads to the refreshing air.  Not a word was spoken as they gazed on the scene before them; its grandeur and beauty were too vast for words.

Before them, to the west, lay the city, the object of their long journey—­before them, it lay as a queen in the midst of her surroundings.  At first sight, it seemed one immense palace, rather than a city of palaces, as the second view indicated.  Street after street, mansion after mansion, the city stretched away as far as the eye could reach, mingling with trees and gardens.

Rising from the center of the city was the temple.  Its walls shone like polished marble, and its towers seemed to pierce the sky, as around about them a white cloud hung.  This cloud extended from the temple as a center, over the whole city, and seemed as it were a covering.

The sun sank behind the horizon; still the cloud glowed with light, as if the sun’s rays still lingered there.

For ten minutes the carriage had paused on the elevation, and the two men had gazed in silence.  Then the driver, as if awakening from a dream, gave the horses the word to go, as he said: 

“We must drive on.”

“Yes; night is coming on.”

The second speaker was a middle aged man of commanding bearing.  He leaned back in the carriage as they sped onward.

“So this is the world renowned city,” he said, “the new capital of the world to which we all must bow in submission; within whose borders sit judges and rulers the like of which for power and wisdom have never yet appeared.  Truly, she is the rising light of the world.  What say you, Remand?”