Chapter LXXX: The Cross and the Crown

"Are there no martyrs of whom the world never hears? Are there no victories save on the battle-field? Are there no triumphs save where one can grasp earth's laurel crown? See you none who rise early and sit up late, and turn with a calm, proud scorn from a _gilded fetter_ to _honest toil_? Pass you never in your daily walks, slight forms with calm brows, and mild eyes, whose whole life has been one prolonged self-struggle? Lip, cheek and brow tell you no tale of the spirit's unrest.

"The 'broad road' is passing fair to look upon. The coiled serpent is not visible amid its luxurious foliage. The soft breeze fans the cheek wooingly; laden with the music of happy, careless idlers. Youth, and bloom, and beauty; ay! even _silver hairs_ are there! No tempest lowers; the sky is clear and blue. _What stays yonder slender foot?_ Why pursue so courageously the thorny, rugged, stumbling path? The eye is bright; the limbs are round and graceful; the blood flows warm and free; the shining hair folds softly away from a pure, fair brow; there are sweet voices _yonder_ to welcome! _there is an_ INWARD _voice to hush_! there are _thrilling_ eyes _there_, to bewilder! _What stay that slender foot?_

"Ah! _The foot-prints of Calvary's_ SUFFERER _are in that 'narrow path_!' That youthful head bends low and unshrinkingly to meet its 'crown of thorns.' The '_Star in the East_' shines far above those rugged heights, on which its follower reads:--'_To him that_ OVERCOMETH, will I give to eat of the Tree of Life!'

"Dear reader, for _a brief day_, the CROSS; for _uncounted ages_, the CROWN!"