hill, then her
heart surged with far-off words:

"Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem--how often would I have
gathered thy children together as a hen gathereth her chickens
under her wings, and ye would not--"

The passion rose in her for Christ, for the gathering under
the wings of security and warmth. But how did it apply to the
weekday world? What could it mean, but that Christ should clasp
her to his breast, as a mother clasps her child? And oh, for
Christ, for him who could hold her to his breast and lose her
there. Oh, for the breast of man, where she should have refuge
and bliss for ever! All her senses quivered with passionate
yearning.

Vaguely she knew that Christ meant something else: that in
the vision-world He spoke of Jerusalem, something that did not
exist in the everyday world. It was not houses and factories He
would hold in His bosom: nor householders nor factory-workers
nor poor people: but something that had no part in the weekday
world, nor seen nor touched with weekday hands and eyes.

Yet she must have it in weekday terms--she must.
For all her life was a weekday life, now, this was the whole. So
he must gather her body to his breast, that was strong with a
broad bone, and which sounded with the beating of the heart, and
which was warm with the life of which she partook, the life of
the running blood.

So she craved for the breast of the Son of Man, to lie there.
And she was ashamed in her soul, ashamed. For whereas Christ
spoke for the Vision to answer, she answered from the weekday
fact. It was a betrayal, a transference of meaning, from the
vision world, to the matter-of-fact world. So she was ashamed of
her religious ecstasy, and dreaded lest any one should see
it.

Early in the year, when the lambs came, and shelters were
built of straw, and on her uncle's farm the men sat at night
with a lantern and a dog, then again there swept over her this
passionate confusion between the vision world and the weekday
world. Again she felt Jesus in the countryside. Ah, he would
lift up the lambs in his arms! Ah, and she was the lamb. Again,
in the morning, going down the lane, she heard the ewe call, and
the lambs came running, shaking and twinkling with new-born
bliss. And she saw them stooping, nuzzling, groping to the
udder, to find the teats, whilst the mother turned her head
gravely and sniffed her own. And they were sucking, vibrating
with bliss on their little, long legs, their throats stretched
u