of God, and the best they can do is to imitate them.
It was a wonderful scene that opened to my eyes as I passed that portal. I had known for ages the soft and peaceful worship of God in our blissful world. I had joined in the adoration of all the temples of our great cities. I had mingled my voice in the hymns of all the nations of our world. The grand ideal of our adoration is peace and beauty and joy and repose—the soul lost in an ecstasy of peace and thankfulness. I had also, as you know, joined with men in their worship—imperfect, like all things on earth are imperfect by man's sin—and yet, in spite of all defects, having the shadow of higher things. I have adored in most of your greatest fanes. I have been at S. Peter's when the silver trumpets have sounded and the grandest music on earth has welcomed the presence of the Pontiff. I have seen Cologne and Rheims. I have mingled with the adoring hosts in S. Isaac's at S. Petersburg and the Cathedral of Kazan. I have seen the worship of the Armenian church of the Copts and Abyssinians. I have joined also with the simpler worship of your English Church, more like ours than the others on earth in being so congregational, but unlike ours in being so
