‘Yes, you and I, with all our guilt and sin. His heart pants with tenderness for all. He has no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that he should turn to Him and live. He sent Jesus Christ, His Son, to save us.’
‘Do you believe that?’
‘Yes, with all my heart. I should be wretched indeed if I did not. Daily my prayer is, “God be merciful to me, a sinner.’”
‘Ah, I like to hear you talk. I’ve not heerd such talk since I was a gal, and then I did not believe it. But it does me good now.’
‘Yes, but I must not talk any longer, or you will be excited and get worse. Try and have a little sleep, and I will go home and pray for you.’
‘Thanks, miss,’ said the woman gratefully; ‘you’ll come and see me to-morrow?’
‘Yes, I will,’ said Rose, as she turned to go home.
But that to-morrow never came. At midnight the summons came, and all that was left of ‘our Sally’ was a silent form of clay.
Some of us go out of the world one way and some another.
Happy they who can exclaim, with Cicero, ‘O preclarum diem,’ or with Paul, ‘I know in whom I have believed;’ or with Job, ‘Though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.’