“‘He, also, Himself likewise took part of the same, that through death He might destroy him that hath the power of death—.’” David paused.
“Go on, dear,” said his father.
“‘And deliver them who through fear of death were all their life-time subject to bondage.’”
“I am not—afraid! Tell me more.”
“‘I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day, and not to me only, but to all them also that love His appearing.’”
“His gift, dear boy, His gift! Say something more.”
“‘In all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us—’” went on David, but he had no power to add another word, and his father murmured on:
“Loved us! Wonderful!—wonderful! And gave—Himself—for us.”
And then he seemed to slumber for awhile, and when he awoke David was not sure that he knew him, for his mind seemed wandering, and he spoke as if he were addressing many people, lifting his hand now and then as if to give emphasis to his words. But his utterance was laboured and difficult, and David only caught a word here and there. “A good fight”—“the whole armour”—“more than conquerors.” Once he said, suddenly:
“Are you one of them, Davie? And are you to stand in my place and take up the weapons that I must lay down?”