"A picture of what?"
"Is not there a temple being built now?" he said, gently. "A far grander and more beautiful one than Solomon's—the temple in the Heavenly Jerusalem; you see now?"
"Yes," I answered, "I think I do; but please tell me; I like to hear your thoughts about it, and why it comforts you."
"Don't you think the dark, dismal quarry is like this world; it is not a very bright place, is it? And you and I both know what trouble is."
"How did you know that I did, Mr. Stanley?"
"I knew it by your face; I can read faces very well," he said, smiling; "but though we are both in the dark quarry now, we shall not always have to stay here—for God, the Master Builder, has hewn us from the rock, cut us away from old surroundings, and from the old nature. We are no longer a part of the old rock, but by God's grace have been taken out of it; do you see?"
"You mean when we were converted?"
"Yes, and it was a hard wrench at the time, was it not? But we can be thankful for the work of the crowbar now."
"But we are still in the quarry," I said.
"Yes, and why? Because the work is not done, we are not yet fit for the Temple—a rough stone would be a disfigurement to God's beautiful building—each stone must be cut, and chipped, and faced, and squared after it is hewn out of the rock. Our bad tempers, and habits, and unholy thoughts must all, by degrees, be done away with. It is a work of time and patience; and it is not always pleasant to feel the pick and the chisel at work on us, but it is such a comfort to know in whose Hand the tool is, and that He can make no mistakes."