"Oh, father," she said, dropping upon her knees and weeping bitterly for the first time in many years, "you ain't got nothin' to thank me fer. I've never seen till jest this minute how awful mean I've been. You did your very best to please me, and the harder you tried, the more I scolded. I wish I'd been better to you. No, you ain't got nothin' at all to thank me fer, and I'll miss you so! I don't know why I've never seen it before, and you've always been so good. I'll never git over feelin' mean about it, no, I never will, oh dear, dear!"
"There, there, Sary, don't cry! It's all right now."
Tenderly he stroked the hand which many times had been raised threateningly against him, and tried to soothe the thoroughly conscience-striken woman.
"Sary, I do want you to find Jesus. It's so mighty sweet to know Him, and He'll help you over all the hard places,—He says He will; and He always carries the heavy end of the load, too."
"I'm too wicked and mean, father. He wouldn't have me," she sobbed, "but I wish He would; I need Him bad, and want help."
"Mrs. Gray,"—it was the minister who spoke and who had been a silent witness of the pathetic scene,—"Jesus died to save you."
"I wish I knew it," she moaned, "but I'm too mean. I'm the biggest sinner in the world to treat father and Rosa the way I have."
"If you are the biggest sinner in the world, then I know that Jesus died to save you. Listen to His word: 'This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief.' You consider yourself the chief of sinners, do you?"
"Who came to save the chief of sinners?"