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 gathered round his bed. He spoke of a time of evil coming on the land as a punishment for injustice and wrong-doing, but foretold a future restoration. All listened in awe save Archbishop Stigand, who muttered that the old man doted. Then Edward bade farewell to his wife, and commended her to the care of her brother Harold. He received the last sacraments, and then almost immediately he died.

He was buried next day in the church which had just been prepared for his burial-place. Scarce had the joyful psalms of its consecration died away before its walls echoed with Edward's dirge. So close and so immediate was the connexion between the founder and the church which he raised—a connexion which, in spite of all changes, has never been broken. Still the shrine of Edward the Confessor occupies the most honourable place in his Minster of the West.

Men cherished his memory, and the Church ratified their sentiment. We need not stop to examine the ways in which that sentiment displayed itself, or criticise the legends to which it gave birth. Appreciation of the finer forms of thought and feeling was hard to express or justify. The Church set up its system after the pattern of the system of the world, and clothed spiritual attractiveness with the attributes of power. Power of course it had, but it was that of mute intangible appeal, which could not be defined or classified. This was felt to be unsatisfactory; holiness must have its record of definite success, of mastery over the material world. Such a record does not move us nowadays, and we wish that we had more knowledge of the spirit of the man. It is this which