"What shall I read?" asked the secretary, leaning towards the light of the window and unclasping the Book: the coach had just turned by Turnham Green and the road was smooth.
"Read," said the Lord-Protector, "the fourth of St. Paul to the Philippians, the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth verses—read aloud in a strong voice."
Which John Thurloe did.
"'Not that I speak in respect of want: but I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Everywhere, and by all things, I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.'"
His Highness repeated the last sentence.
"'I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.' This Scripture did once save my life," he added, "when my eldest son, poor Robert, died, which went as a dagger to my heart—indeed, it did."
He paused and John Thurloe looked up, startled to hear him refer to a sorrow so ancient. But Cromwell's thoughts seemed to be in the past.
"In my great extremity," he continued, "I did read these passages of Paul's contention—of the submission to the will of God in all conditions; and it was hard—indeed, it was hard. In my weakness I said, 'It is true, Paul, you have learned this, and attained to this measure of grace; but what shall I do? Ah, poor creature, it is a hard lesson for me to take out. I find it so!' But reading on to the thirteenth verse, where Paul saith, 'I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me,' then faith began to work and my heart to find support, saying to myself, 'He that was Paul's Christ is my Christ too!'—and so I drew waters out of the well of salvation."
"Why should Your Highness remind yourself of this?" asked Thurloe anxiously.
"Oh, Thurloe!" cried the Lord-Protector, with a great sigh, "it is to nerve myself in case another of my children should be taken from me. If she should die—it would be almost more than I could bear. Yet God might take her, though I have wrestled with Him for her life, even as David wrestled for the life of his son. My brave, sweet one! She was always good and loving, was she not, Thurloe? Wonderful and inscrutable are His ways that He should lay such suffering and agonies on one so delicate and valiant!"