"That is a true word, my Simon," said the young man, humbly. "No one knoweth it better than I, who was ever prone to do evil as the sparks fly upward.--I must away; if Stephen could but be persuaded to leave Jerusalem----"
"'Twas what I would have said," broke in Simon, eagerly. "Let him go--and at once. There is no need that he remain to fall into the net which these are making ready for him. It may be that it was by the good providence of God that I chanced to hear what I did." Then as he opened the door that the young man might pass out, he whispered, "Let them all beware of the Pharisee from Tarsus."
"'Tis a word of wisdom," said Iddo to himself, as he strode rapidly away. "Yet would he dare molest us who walk orderly after the law? If now we kept not the fasts, nor observed the solemn feasts, nor prayed at the times of the morning and evening sacrifice--but all of these things we observe and do. Yet have I heard Stephen proclaim in the synagogues that there was now no further need for the priestly slaughter of flocks and herds, because that Christ had given himself a sacrifice for the sins--not only of the Jews--but for the sins of the whole world. Even the apostles say not such things, it must be that he is over-bold--being a Greek. Some one should speak to him of the matter."
Revolving these thoughts in his mind, the young man came at length into the street where was the house of John the apostle. It was narrow, and still, and hot; the feet of the few passers-by--mostly women passing to and from the public fountains with their water-jars--making no noise in the yellow dust. Iddo paused a moment with bent head; he smiled, and his eyes sparkled with joy. "She is singing," he said aloud. And he hurried forward faster than before--almost stumbling indeed in his haste over some small brown object, which squatted silently in the hot sunshine before the door which he sought.
"What is this?" he cried, looking down, and discovering that the obstacle was none other than a small brown child; that there were, in fact, three of them, a boy and a girl--and betwixt the two a baby, smaller and browner than either.
"We be listening," said the girl solemnly, shaking the dark curls out of her eyes and looking up at her questioner. "The baby hath gone to sleep because he likes it; we come every day. Wilt thou sit down here? the dust is soft, and the music is like angels singing."
Iddo smiled. "Thou art right, little one," he said; "'tis like the voice of an angel."
"I lift up mine eyes to the hills.
Whence cometh my help?
My help is from Jehovah,
Maker of heaven and earth,"
chanted the melodious voice within, then it dropped to a pleading cadence,
"May He not suffer thy foot to be moved!
May He not slumber that keepeth thee!
Behold, the Keeper of Israel
Shall neither slumber nor sleep.
Jehovah keep thee from all evil!
He will keep thy life.
Jehovah keep thy coming and going
Henceforth and for ever!"