light, and the laws of the human soul which gave it being.  He has linked it with the laws of the universe, and with the invisible mind of God; and it brings to him a thrill of awe, and the sense of a mysterious, nameless beauty, of which the child did not conceive.  It is illusion still; but it has fulfilled the promise.  In the realm of spirit, in the temple of the soul, it is the same.  All is illusion; “but we look for a city which hath foundations;” and in this the promise is fulfilled.

And such was Canaan to the Israelites.  To some doubtless it was delusion.  They expected to find their reward in a land of milk and honey.  They were bitterly disappointed, and expressed their disappointment loudly enough in their murmurs against Moses, and their rebellion against his successors.  But to others, as to Abraham, Canaan was the bright illusion which never deceived, but for ever shone before as the type of something more real.  And even taking the promise literally, though they built in tents, and could not call a foot of land their own, was not its beauty theirs?  Were not its trellised vines, and glorious pastures, and rich olive-fields, ministers to the enjoyment of those who had all in God, though its milk, and oil, and honey, could not be enjoyed with exclusiveness of appropriation?  Yet over and above and beyond this, there was a more blessed fulfilment of the promise; there was “a city which had foundations”—­built and made by God—­toward which the anticipation of this Canaan was leading them.  The Kingdom of God was forming in their souls, for ever disappointing them by the unreal, and teaching them that what is spiritual, and belongs to mind and character alone can be eternal.

We will illustrate this principle from the common walks of life.  The principle is, that the reward we get is not the reward for which we worked, but a deeper one; deeper and more permanent.  The merchant labours all his life, and the hope which leads him on is perhaps wealth:  well, at sixty years of age he attains wealth; is that the reward of sixty years of toil?  Ten years of enjoyment, when the senses can enjoy no longer—­a country seat, splendid plate, a noble establishment?  Oh, no! a reward deeper than he dreamed of.  Habits of perseverance:  a character trained by industry:  that is his reward.  He was carried on from year to year by, if he were wise, illusion; if he were unwise, delusion; but he reaped a more enduring substance in himself.

Take another instance:  the public man, warrior, or statesman, who has served his country, and complains at last in bitter disappointment, that his country has not fulfilled his expectations in rewarding him—­that is, it has not given him titles, honours, wealth.  But titles, honours, wealth—­are these the rewards of well-doing? can they reward it? would it be well-doing if they could?  To be such a man, to have the power of doing such