"It is the word of God," cried Marcellus, "it is a voice from heaven. My heart responds to everything that I have heard, and I know that it must be eternal truth.
"But how can I be a sharer in these blessings? I am a sinner; I seem now to have my eyes cleared of mist. I know myself at last. Before I thought I was a just and a righteous man. But beside the Holy One of whom I have heard I sink down into the dust, I see that I am a sinner before him."
"He has atoned for all."
"But how can I be benefited?"
"He will pardon everything even to the uttermost."
"How can he pardon me?"
"Lift up your soul to him and pray for pardon. If you ask you shall receive."
"O, then, if I may dare to approach, if it be permitted for me to utter a word to him, teach me the words, tell me the way."
In the dimness of the gloomy vault, in solitude and solemn silence, Honorius knelt down, and Marcellus bowed himself by his side.
The venerable Christian lifted up his soul in prayer. Marcellus felt as though his own soul was being lifted up to the courts of heaven, to the presence of the Saviour, by the power of that, fervent and agonizing prayer. The words seemed to find an echo in his own soul. In his deep abasement he rested his wants upon his companion so that he might present them in a more acceptable manner.