make his people rule with him."
"O _that's_ like the New Testament!" Matilda cried.
"What part of it?"
"I don't know exactly where it is; I'll look; but David, Jesus is going
to reign so by and by, I know."
"You know!" said David.
"Yes; for he said so."
"Who said so?"
"Why, Jesus. Here--stop!--no, here it is, one place. Listen, David,
just to this. 'And as they heard these things, he added and spake a
parable, because he was nigh to Jerusalem, and because they thought
that the kingdom of God should immediately appear.'--That's what you
thought, David."
"Well, but,--" David began.
"Just listen. 'He said therefore, A certain nobleman went into a far
country to receive for himself a kingdom and to return.'"
"What's that?" said David.
"Why, don't you understand?"
"No. Not what it has to do with what I was talking about."
"Why, David, the far country is heaven; and Jesus is gone there until
the kingdom is ready, or till he is ready to take it."
"You have nothing but words to shew for it."
"No, of course; but they are God's words, David; so they are true."
"Take care!" said he, and his dark eye fired and glowed; "you mustn't
talk so. You know I don't believe that."
"Believe what?
"That _his_ words are God's words."
"But don't you remember," said Matilda, to whom the words seemed to
come in her puzzle, to help her out,--"don't you remember in the
Psalms--"
"The Psalms of David?"
"Yes, to be sure, the Psalms of David; don't you remember how it
says--Oh, I wish I could find it!--something about 'sitting at my right
hand' till his enemies shall be,--I forget what."
"I know!" said David with a curious change of countenance; and in his
own book he immediately turned to the place.
"'The affirmation of Jehovah to my Lord: Sit at my right hand, till I
make thine enemies thy footstool.'"
"That's it!" cried Matilda. "Jesus is there now, and by and by he is
coming to take the kingdom."
It did not seem as if David heard her; so deep was his pondering over
the passage he had just read. Little Matilda watched him curiously; his
brow was dark, with what sort of thoughts she could not guess; his eye
sometimes flashed and at other times grew intense with looking into
what he was studying. But what struck Matilda most was the look of
trouble; the expression of grave care upon his lip. He lifted up his
head at last, and his eye met her eye, and he was going to speak; when
the clang of t
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