self made sin,--how sad a task was that!
Great, no doubt, as was the joy that was set before our Lord, and sure as
He was of one day entering on that joy, yet the daily sight of so much
sin in all men around Him, and the cross and the shame that lay right
before Him, made Him, in spite of the future joy, all the Man of Sorrow
Isaiah had said He would be, and made light-mindedness and laughter
impossible to our Lord,--as it is, indeed, to all men among ourselves who
have anything of His mind about this present world and the sin of this
world, they also are men of sorrow, and of His sorrow. They, too, are
acquainted with grief. Their tears, like His, will never be wiped off in
this world. They will not laugh with all their heart till they laugh
where He now laughs. Then it will be said of them, too, that they began
to be merry. 'What was the matter with you that you did laugh in your
sleep last night? asked Christiana of Mercy in the morning. I suppose
you were in a dream. So I was, said Mercy, but are you sure that I
laughed? Yes, you laughed heartily; but, prithee, Mercy, tell me thy
dream. Well, I dreamed that I was in a solitary place and all alone, and
was there bemoaning the hardness of my heart, when methought I saw one
coming with wings towards me. So he came directly to me, and said,
Mercy, what aileth thee? Now, when he heard my complaint, he said, Peace
be to thee. He also wiped mine eyes with his handkerchief, and clad me
in silver and gold; he put a chain about my neck also, and earrings in
mine ears, and a beautiful crown upon my head. So he went up. I
followed him till we came to a golden gate; and I thought I saw your
husband there. But did I laugh? Laugh! ay, and well you might, to see
yourself so well.'

But to return and begin again. Goodwill, who opened the gate, was, as we
saw, a person of a very grave and commanding aspect; so much so, that in
his sudden joy our pilgrim was a good deal overawed as he looked on the
countenance of the man who stood in the gate, and it was some time
afterwards before he understood why he wore such a grave and almost sad
aspect. But afterwards, as he went up the way, and sometimes returned in
thought to the wicket-gate, he came to see very good reason why the
keeper of that gate looked as he did look. The site and situation of the
gate, for one thing, was of itself enough to banish all light-mindedness
from the man who was stationed there. For the gate