But the sick man shook his head.
"That's not like me," he said. "He worked one hour. I'm past that. I'm good for nothing; I've destroyed myself."
And Hal went away grieved; for he felt the words were just. And yet—although he knew that God was ready to receive all those who turn to Him through Christ—he could not think of how to tell him so.
But the following Sunday, as he sat beside the Squire in the high-backed Manor pew, his crutches either side of him, the "how" was made quite plain.
"This is the work of God," the vicar read, "that ye believe on Him whom God hath sent."
Will and Sigismund were very busy watching a wasp that had strayed in at one of the windows, and was making up its mind to settle on the velvet hangings of the pew. They glanced at Hal, but his thoughts were too much occupied with Farmer Bluff to notice any of their signs.
All at once he seemed to see how it is faith in Christ alone that gives the sinner peace, when looking back repentant on a misspent life.
He seemed to see, too, how that "faith" can be called "work," since "to be" alone enables man "to do."
"I've got it, Farmer Bluff!" he cried, next time he went up to his room. "Believe in Jesus Christ,—that is 'the work of God;' and you can do that lying here. It's only to be sorry, and to trust in Christ, who died for us." And sitting down by him, he found the verse and read it out.
"And I think," he added, "that perhaps in heaven God will give you something to do for Him, to make amends for what you left undone down here."