upon the mind and the heart, the imagination and the conscience,—­of that secretest of all secret places, God alone is able to say, I search the heart.  ‘As for secret thoughts,’ says our author, speaking of his own former religious life, ’I took no notice of them, neither did I understand what Satan’s temptations were, nor how they were to be withstood and resisted.’  But now all these things are his deepest grief, as they are ours,—­as many of us as have been truly turned in our deepest hearts to God.

‘But,’ replied Prudence, ’do you not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished which at other times are your perplexity?’ ’Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours in which such things happen to me.’  ’Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances at times as if they were vanquished?’ ’Yes, when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it; also, when I look into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when my thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it.’  Yes; and these same things have many a time done it to ourselves also.  We also, my brethren—­let me tell you your own undeniable experience—­we also have such golden hours sometimes, when we feel as if we should never again have such an evil heart within us.  The Cross of Christ to us also has done it.  It is of such golden hours that Isaac Watts sings in his noble hymn: 

   ‘When I survey the wondrous Cross;’

and as often as we sing that hymn with our eyes upon the object, that will for a time vanquish our worst cogitations.  Also, when we read the roll that we too carry in our bosom—­that is to say, when we go back into our past life till we see it and feel it all, and till we can think and speak of nothing else but the sin that abounded in it and the grace that much more abounded, that has a thousand times given us also golden hours, even rest from our own evil hearts.  And we also have often made our hearts too hot for sin to show itself, when we read our hearts deep into such books as The Paradiso, The Pilgrim’s Progress, The Saint’s Rest, The Serious Call, The Religious Affections, and such like.  These books have often vanquished our annoyances, and given us golden hours on the earth.  Yes, but that is but seldom.

‘Now, what is it,’ asked Prudence, as she wound up this so particular colloquy, ‘that makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion?’

‘Why,’ replied the pilgrim, and the water stood in his eyes, ’why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross; and there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are an annoyance to me; there they say is no death, and there shall I dwell with such company as I love best.  For, to tell you truth, I love Him, because by Him I was eased of my burden, and I am weary of my inward sickness; and I would fain be where I shall die no more, and for ever with that company that shall continually cry, Holy, holy, holy.’