And behold Thee on Thy throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee!”
He listened till the verse was concluded, then turning to the stairs, he ascended to Philip’s room, repeating to himself,—
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me!
Let me hide myself in Thee!”
Stepping softly to the bedside, he found his boy sleeping sweetly, with a smile upon his face that told of perfect peace. His hand was laid upon the open Bible. Led by an impulse of curiosity, as we purblind mortals say, he stooped down and read, where Philip’s fingers lay, “There be many that say, Who will show us any good? Lord, lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon us.... I will both lay me down in peace and sleep, for thou only, O Lord, makest me to dwell in safety.”
“In peace,” said the squire, and looking at the restful countenance of his son, he read a commentary there that he could neither misunderstand nor dispute. He sat and pondered as the minutes passed, the subject of thoughts and emotions new and strange. Nor could he break the spell until Philip, waking refreshed and happy, turned to him with a gleam of glad surprise, and said,—
“My father!”
“What is it, my son?”