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112 all its plenitude. By beginning and continuing perfectly in the spirit of Christ, the Heavenly Powers themselves must be our builders. We need only strive to be living stones in the hand of the Divine Architect. Then all "our walls will be salvation, and all our gates praise," and we shall need "no temple therein, for the Lamb will be its temple."

There is a wonderful land called The Future, and somewhere in that land stands the structure of the feminine civilization,—its golden domes glittering in the sunshine,—its airy pinnacles springing into the ether,—bright contrast to the vast, time-worn towers and sombre splendours of its frowning brother. Silently and swiftly it rose, in fewer years than that was centuries in building, for the secrets and results that men by little and little so painfully wrought out for themselves were ready to our requirement; and now the perfume of its gardens streams over the sea, its music vibrates round the land, troops of lovely children play over its grassy lawns, and an exquisite girlhood clusters within its deep, sculptured porches. Is it an opposing citadel, or a true home, created by love, whither every man may come to find refreshing, peace, and joy? Beautiful it stands, but, against the crowded cannon of the grim masculine battlements, as defenceless as the child's bubble that an instant rests upon the sward. Will they ever open upon its crystal walls? nay, will they even dare to thunder against each other as they have done through so many bloody generations? The roar alone would shatter its delicate pillars and fairy arches, and bury their builders in the fall.—The builders? yes, the women builders, the beloved, the wives and mothers of men. See them winding in endless procession from their council-hall, more "terrible" in their suppliance than "an army with banners," and bearing a petition to the nations as they are about to rush forth to their wild work of war and wasting. What says