This is but the briefest of the sketches of Philip's sermon. It was a part of himself, his experience, his heart belief. He poured it out on the vast audience with little saving of his vitality. And that Sunday he went home at night exhausted, with a feeling of weariness partly due to his work during the week among the people. The calls upon his time and strength had been incessant, and he did not know where or when to stop.
It was three weeks after this sermon on church work that Philip was again surprised by his strange visitor of a month before. He had been out making some visits in company with his wife. When they came back to the house, there sat the Brother Man on the door-step.
At sight of him, Philip felt that same thrill of expectancy which had passed over him at his former appearance.
The old man stood up and took off his hat. He looked very tired and sorrowful. But there breathed from his entire bearing the element of a perfect peace.
"Brother Man," said Philip, cheerily, "come in and rest yourself."
"Can you keep me over night?"
The question was put wistfully. Philip was struck by the difference between this almost shrinking request and the self-invitation of a month before.
"Yes, indeed! We have one spare room for you. You are welcome. Come in."
So they went in, and after tea the two sat down together while Mrs. Strong was busy in the kitchen. A part of this conversation was afterward related by the minister to his wife; a part of it he afterward said was unreportable——the manner of tone, the inflection, the gesture of his remarkable guest no man could reproduce.
"You have moved since I saw you last," said the visitor.