"Ah, Sire!" said Exeter sadly, "the one day for Him, but for us the thousand years."
The response came quickly. "'Ego vobiscum sum omnibus dielus.'"[#]
[#] Matt. xxviii. 20.
"We cannot see our Lord, Sire."
"He can see us."
"True: yet, my gracious Lord"——
"My son," said the King tenderly, "He hath written down a word of set purpose for thee. 'Quomodo miseretur pater jiliorum, misertus est Dominus timentibus se.' Muse thou thereon, and God lead thee into His peace."[#]
[#] Psalm ciii. 13.
He had said enough, for the Word of God in his lips had reached the heart of the mourner. It was nothing new—it had been sung in Exeter's hearing a hundred times—but it came this time with power. Did God feel for him just as he felt for that one darling child over whom he was yearning and lamenting? It said just that. What right had he to water it down, and make it mean something vague and metaphysical? At last he had found the man who understood him. The King was a father himself, and a very loving one. And had he not at last found the God who understood him?—who was indeed his Father, who loved him as he loved his little Nan?
Yes, it would be only a little while. Ah, how little for him who spoke! Three short months, into which was to be poured an ocean of living agony, and then he should see God, and be at peace for ever. And to him who heard, only a little longer. He had but to wait for God.