“Now climb up again, Job!” said Bayard in a strong voice. “I’m with you!”
Thus went the words of the shortest sermon of the minister’s life. To the end of his days, Job Slip will think it was the greatest and the best.
Captain Hap, penitent, but with no idea of saying so, came up the tenement stairs. Mari and Joey sat beside the fire. Mari was frying chunks of haddock for supper. Joey was singing in a contented little voice something that he had caught in the mission:—
“Veresawidenessin Godsmer—cy
Likevewidenessof vesea....
ForveloveofGod is bwoard—er
Vanvemeazzerof mansmine
Anve heartof veE—ter—nal
Ismoswonderfully kine.”
“Hear the boy!” cried Mari, laughing for the first time for many black days.
“What in the world is he singin’?” asked Joey’s father.
“Why, I’m sure it’s as plain as can be,” said Joey’s mother,—
“‘There’s a wideness in God’s mercy,
Like the wideness of the sea.’
Then he says:—