"De good Lord, he make it grow to show what He can do for us. Miss Zell," he said, in an awed whisper, "my ole heart was as brack as dat ground, but de blessed Jesus turn it as white as dis rose. Miss Edie, Lor' bless her, telled me 'bout Him, and I'se found it all true. Now, doesn't I know 'bout it? I knows dat de good Jesus can turn de brackest heart in de world jes like dis rose, make it white and pure, and fill it up wid de sweetness of lub. I knows all 'bout it."
He spoke with the power of absolute certainty and strong feeling, therefore his hearer was deeply moved.
"Hannibal," she said, coming close to him, and putting her hand on his shoulder, "do you think Jesus could turn my heart white?"
"Sartin, Miss Zell," answered he, stoutly. "Jes as easy as He make dis white rose grow."
"Would you mind asking Him? It seems to me I would rather pray out here among the flowers," she said, in low, tremulous tones.
So Hannibal concluded his simple, but most effective, service by kneeling down by his pulpit, the rosebush, and praying:
"Bressed Jesus, guv dis dear chile a new heart, 'cause she wants it, and you wants her to hab it. Make it pure and full of lub. You can do it, dear Jesus. You knows you can. Now, jes please do it. Amen."
Zell's responsive "Amen" was like a note from an AEolian harp.
"Hannibal," said she, looking wistfully at him, "I think I feel better. I think I feel it growing white."
"Now jes look here, Miss Zell," said he, giving her a bit of pastoral counsel before going back to his work, "don't you keep lookin' at your heart, and seein' how it feels, or you'll get discouraged. See dis rose agin? It don't look at itself. It jes looks up at de sun. So you look straight at Jesus, and your heart grow whiter ebery day."