Roman Mosaics | Page 4

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calm rest of creation speaks to us of the deeper rest of the soul in God.
On the shadowed path that leads up to the house of prayer, with mind
and senses quickened to perceive the loveliness and significance of the
smallest object, the fern on the bank and the lichen on the wall, we feel
indeed that heaven is not so much a yonder, towards which we are to
move, as a here and a now, which we are to realise.
A walk to church in town is a different thing. Man's works are all
around us, and God's excluded; all but the strip of blue sky that looks
down between the tall houses, and suggests thoughts of heaven to those
who work and weep; all but the stunted trees and the green grass that
struggle to grow in the hard streets and squares, and whisper of the
far-off scenes of the country, where life is natural and simple. But even
in town a walk to church is pleasant, especially when the streets are
quiet, before the crowd of worshippers have begun to assemble, and
there is nothing to distract the thoughts. If we can say of the country
walk, "This is holy ground," seeing that every bush and tree are aflame
with God, we can say of the walk through the city, "Surely the Lord
hath been here, this is a dreadful place." And as the rude rough stones
lying on the mountain top shaped themselves in the patriarch's dream
into a staircase leading up to God, so the streets and houses around
become to the musing spirit suggestive of the Father's many mansions,
and the glories of the City whose streets are of pure gold, in which
man's hopes and aspirations after a city of rest, which are baffled here,
will be realised. I have many pleasing associations connected with
walks to church in town. Many precious thoughts have come to me
then, which would not have occurred at other times; glimpses of the
wonder of life, and revelations of inscrutable mysteries covered by the
dream-woven tissue of this visible world. The subjects with which my
mind was filled found new illustrations in the most unexpected quarters;
and every familiar sight and sound furnished the most appropriate
examples. During that half-hour of meditation, with my blood
quickened by the exercise, and my mind inspired by the thoughts of the
service in which I was about to engage, I have lived an intenser life and
enjoyed a keener happiness than during all the rest of the week. It was
the hour of insight that struck the keynote of all the others.

But far above even these precious memories, I must rank my walks to
church in Rome. What one feels elsewhere is deepened there; and the
wonderful associations of the place give a more vivid interest to all
one's experiences. I lived in the Capo le Case, a steep street on the
slope between the Pincian and Quirinal hills, situated about
three-quarters of a mile from the church outside the Porta del Popolo.
This distance I had to traverse every Sunday morning; and I love
frequently to shut my eyes and picture the streets through which I
passed, and the old well-known look of the houses and monuments.
There is not a more delightful walk in the world than that; and I know
not where within such a narrow compass could be found so many
objects of the most thrilling interest. For three months, from the
beginning of February to the end of April, twice, and sometimes four
times, every Sunday, I passed that way, going to or returning from
church, until I became perfectly familiar with every object; and
associations of my own moods of mind and heart mingled with the
grander associations which every stone recalled, and are now
inextricably bound up with them. With one solitary exception, when the
weather in its chill winds and gloomy clouds reminded me of my native
climate, all the Sundays were beautiful, the sun shining down with
genial warmth, and the sky overhead exhibiting the deep violet hue
which belongs especially to Italy. The house in which I lived had on
either side of the entrance a picture-shop; and this was always closed,
as well as most of the other places of business along the route. The
streets were remarkably quiet; and all the circumstances were most
favourable for a meditative walk amid such magnificent memories. The
inhabitants of Rome pay respect to the Sunday so far as abstaining from
labour is concerned; but they make up for this by throwing open their
museums and places of interest on that day, which indeed is the only
day in which they are free to the public; and they take a large