“No harder than I could bear,” said John.
“It’s a grand thing to be able to say that,” said my father.
“Oh sir! for that matter, I would go through it all again, if it was his will, and willingly. I have no will but his, sir.”
“Well, John, I wish we could all say the same. When a man comes to that, the Lord lets him have what he wants. What do you want now, John?”
“To depart and be with the Lord. It wouldn’t be true, sir, to say that I wasn’t weary. It seems to me, if it’s the Lord’s will, I’ve had enough of this life. Even if death be a long sleep, as some people say, till the judgment, I think I would rather sleep, for I’m very weary. Only there’s the old woman there! I don’t like leaving her.”
“But you can trust God for her too, can’t you?”
“It would be a poor thing if I couldn’t, sir.”
“Were you ever hungry, John—dreadfully hungry, I mean?”
“Never longer than I could bear,” he answered. “When you think it’s the will of God, hunger doesn’t get much hold of you, sir.”
“You must excuse me, John, for asking so many questions. You know God better than I do, and I want my young man here to know how strong the will of God makes a man, old or young. He needn’t care about anything else, need he?”