“Worthy? No. It is a gift He will give you—as the crown and the palm of the worthiest will be His free gift at last. Not worthy, lad, but willing, I trust.”
“Papa—I cannot tell. I am afraid—”
He drew nearer, kneeling still, and laid his face upon his father’s shoulder.
“Of what are you afraid, Davie? There is nothing you need fear, except delay. You cannot come to Him too soon. David, when you were the child of an hour only, I gave you up to God to be His always. I asked Him to make you a special messenger of His to sinful men. His minister. That may be if He wills. I cannot tell. But I do know that He will that you should be one of His ‘good soldiers.’”
There was a long silence, for it tired him to speak, and David said nothing. By and by his father said:
“How can I leave your mother to your care, unless I know you safe among those whom God guides? But you must give yourself to Him. Your mother will need you, my boy, but you may fight well the battles of the Lord, even while working with your hands for daily bread. And for the rest, the way will open before you. I am not afraid.”
“Papa,” said David, raising himself up to look into his father’s face, “why are you saying all this to me to-night?”
“I am saying it to you because you are your mother’s first-born son, and must be her staff and stay always. And to-night is a good time to say it.”
“But, papa,” said the boy with difficulty, “it is not because you think you are going to die? Does mamma know?”
“I do not know, my son. Death has seemed very near to me to-day. And it has been often in your mother’s thoughts of late, I do not doubt. My boy! it is a solemn thing to feel that death may be drawing near. But I am not afraid. I think I have no cause to be afraid.”