"I am an unworthy follower of the man Christ."
"You are then a Christian?"
"I said the man Christ. I belong to no Church. I profess no creed."
"What do you do?"
"My child," he said, and his voice sounded sorrowful like the sobbing of the sea, "my life's work is all in these simple lines,—
"'Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.'"
"You are then he whom I seek. You are Terah, the breather of good. But, sir, you seem ill. Can I help you?"
"Yes, care for my poor. Be to them all the Wind is to you; rock them into life, soothe them into death; sob with them in grief, shout with them in joy. I am going away."
"Whither?"
"To the earth, to rest and peace at last."