Your surety He is;
Come see if there ever was sorrow like His.”
Nathan Blyth called on “Brother Olliver” to engage in prayer. At the first Philip was inclined to be amused at the rude and rugged language in which the old man poured out his soul to God, but as he proceeded, bearing with him the subtle power and sympathy of a praying people, the listener was moved to wonder and to awe, and felt with Jacob, “Surely God is in this place and I knew it not.” “Thoo knoas, Lord,” said Adam Olliver, “’at we’re all poor helpless sinners; but Thoo’s a great Saviour, an’ sum on uz ez felt Thi’ pooer te seeave.
‘Oor Jesus te knoa, an’ te feel His blood floa
It’s life ivverlastin’, it’s heaven beloa!’
Lord! There’s them here to-neet’ at’s strangers te d’ blood ’at bowt ther pardon up o’ d’ tree. Thoo loves ’em. Thoo pities ’em. Thoo dee’d for ’em. Oppen ther hearts, Lord. Melt their consciences an’ mak’ ’em pray, ‘God be massiful te me a sinner.’ Seeave ’em, Lord! Rich or poor, young or aud. Put d’ poor wand’ring sheep o’ Thi’ shoother an’ lead ’em inte d’ foad o’ Thi’ infannit luv.” No sooner was the benediction pronounced than Philip stole silently away. As he trod the shady lanes and crossed the park his mind was full of serious thought. During the entire evening, he was silent and abstracted, and as he laid his head upon his pillow the plaintive appeal still rung in his ears,—
“To you is it nothing that Jesus should die.”
