Where was his last hopeful inquirer?
Dead.
Where the priest?
Dead.
Where the philosopher?
Fled away, none knew whither.
And the poor old water-bearer?
Dead—died like a dog in its kennel; and but that some pitying Christian had succeeded in discovering her at the last moment, without a human witness. But—and the missionary’s heart swelled with gratitude to God as he thought of—there were other witnesses, nobler, tenderer, dearer to that simple, lone old creature, than all the earthly friends that ever thronged a death-bed; and these had been her bright, rejoicing convoy to the Saviour’s presence.
Oh! how full of awe, how fearfully laden with the solemn interests of eternity, appeared this wondrous work of his! And how broad and clear seemed his sacred commission, as though at that moment newly traced by the finger of Jehovah!
