“Oh, go on,” she said softly; “tell me the rest.”
“It has been told already, my child, told in the reception of the erring son, not as a stranger or a servant, but as a son. The love of the Father transcends our love for our brethren, as much as did the father’s love transcend that of the jealous elder son. It is not for us to despair for the wanderers, for the Father does not despair of them. He watches for them, and when their faint and lagging footsteps are homeward turned, irresolutely perhaps, fearfully perhaps, despondently perhaps, while they are a great way off he goes Himself to meet them. He sends no servant; He sends no brother even; He goes Himself. And then, when the lost son feels the Father’s arms about his neck, hears the Father’s voice speaking in his ear, the faint and fearful love of his heart is turned to a deep stream of true filial devotion, and he knows himself in all his abasement and humility for a son, and the first word he speaks, amidst his tears, is the word ‘Father.’ And after that word is spoken there can be no talk of being a hired servant. Father!—our Father—that is the essence of Christ’s redeeming work on earth.”
“Thank you,” said Bride, drawing a long breath; “I think you have given me comfort. I was too much like the elder brother, too much inclined to despair of those who had strayed away. I will think of them differently now. Surely they will one day turn back to the home again.”
“I trust so; we can at least pray that it may be so. Prayer is the strongest power there is for leading men back to God; and I often think and note that, when He would draw to Himself an erring son who will not pray for himself, He puts it into the heart of a brother or a sister to pray for him, and so the erring one is drawn back towards the Father’s house.”
Bride’s face quivered as she held out her hand in farewell, but she went home greatly comforted.
CHAPTER XIII
TWO ENCOUNTERS
BRIDE was riding slowly down the hill from St. Erme’s on her little Exmoor pony, with a grave and sorrowful face. Around her the green billowy downs stretched away in all their bright spring greenness, overhead the larks were carolling as though their hearts were filled with rapture, whilst far below the sea tossed and sparkled in the brilliant sunshine in a fashion that was exhilarating and gladsome.