“But I don’t want to,” said Dick. “I like to read about Him. There is nothing sham about Him, is there, sir?”
“Sham! There is nothing half so real as Jesus Christ,” and Harris took off his hat.
“I am glad you think so,” the boy said gently, putting his hand affectionately on the arm of his master.
Young Nelson never forgot this talk, and it influenced his whole life.
Mr. Harris was half touched, half amused at the incident. He spoke of it to Margaret that evening, for she kept all his confidences, and thoroughly understood him. “I am not quite the sceptic I think myself, I suppose,” he said. “Certainly, the longer I live the more am I impressed by the strong personality of the marvellous Man of Nazareth. I think His time is coming nearer; and it will be a happy time, indeed, for the world. Do you see the signs, Margaret?”
So they talked together; and presently he asked her to sing “one of the old, old hymns,” and she sang “Jesus, the very thought of Thee,” and he joined in as if he felt it. Indeed, that night, after Margaret had left him, sitting as he loved to sit, with the blinds up, and the moonlight filling the room, she heard him sing softly the words, which for so many generations loyal lips have sung to Jesus; and she said to herself, “Dear Graf! Why does he call himself an unbeliever?”
In Darentdale those who were joined together in Christian love and helpfulness had instituted a communion service which was for their mutual comfort and edification. It was held usually in the house of the clergyman, but although many church people attended, the number of Nonconformists was still larger. They did not call it a sacrament, but “a breaking of bread together,” and “all who loved the Lord Jesus in sincerity” were invited to be present. A few evenings after the boy’s question to Mr. Harris the friends were together as usual. The door of the Vicarage was open, and they were singing a hymn of praise, the sound of which floated through the garden, and reached the high road. Along the road Mr. Harris was walking, and he stopped at the gate to listen. Then he went noiselessly to the room where the meeting was held, and took his seat at the door. Of course he was at once recognised. After the hymn was sung a chapter was read, prayer was offered by any who wished to pray, and the chairman asked any friend who could to speak.
Mr. Harris rose and said a few words, which came from his heart, and went to the hearts of others. He told them that he had not been quite sincere in his profession of lack of faith in Christianity, that he had believed always in Christ, but only lately in Christians. He said that he had long ago put his trust in Jesus as the living Saviour, and could say, “I know in whom I have believed”—although he had not thought it necessary to join any part of the Church. “But now,” he said, “I have a great hunger for the communion of saints! Unworthy as I feel myself, yet, because I love our Lord, I ask you to let me join you in this service. Will you receive me as one of yourselves? I love my Master, and I love His brethren, and I crave your prayers and your help. I want to be taught and strengthened. Let me take the lowest place among you, but do not shut me out, for I believe that Jesus is the Christ, and that He loved me, and gave Himself for me.”
His voice grew rather unsteady—perhaps it was because he saw Margaret weeping—and he resumed his seat. But the little company stood, and with one accord they sang,
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.