“Yes, yes; them’s the blessed words!” she cried, clasping her hands and raising her eyes to heaven. “Oh, if I only knowed ’twas fer me, me that hasn’t never tried to serve him, and now cayn’t do nothin’ but lie here and suffer!”
“If you bear your sufferings patiently it will be acceptable service to Him,” the captain answered. “He pondereth the hearts; he sees all the motives and springs of action. And he will not let you have one pain, one moment of distress that is not for your good—making you fit for a home with him in heaven—if you give yourself to him in love and submission, and try earnestly to learn the lessons he would teach you.
“But never forget that salvation can not be earned and deserved either by doing or enduring: it is God’s free, unmerited gift, bought for his chosen ones by the blood and righteousness of Christ. He offers them to us, and if we accept the gift, God will treat us as if they were actually our own: as if we had been sinless like Jesus, and had died the dreadful death that he died in our stead.”
“I—I don’t seem to see it quite plain yet,” she said; “please, sir, ask Him to show me jest how to do it.”
The captain willingly granted her request, kneeling by the bed; Lulu by his side.
His prayer was short, earnest and to the point; his language so simple that the poor sick woman, ignorant though she was, understood every word.
She thanked him in tremulous tones and with eyes full of tears.
“I hain’t got long to stay,” she whispered, faintly, “but I hope I’m ’bout ready now, fer I’ve tried to give myself to Him. I wish I’d know’d you years back, cap’n, and begun to serve Him then.”
Lulu seemed to have lost her gay spirits and walked along quite soberly by her father’s side as they went on their homeward way.
“Papa,” she asked, with a slight tremble in her voice, “is that woman going to die?”