CHAPTER XXXIX
My Father and my God! I thank Thee that Thou hast permitted me to behold the Life, the Passion, and the Resurrection of Thy Son, and to steep myself in His words and promises during this terrible time. In the torture of suspense, which is more dreadful than death, I have won courage from the great events of His life, and received consolation from the appearance of my Redeemer upon earth. My hope has been strengthened by the saints of old who repented. For the sake of the crucified Saviour, O Lord, put mercy into my King's heart. If it is God's will that I die, then let me die like Dismas. Only pardon me. In the name of Jesus, I implore Thee, O Father, for mercy! Have mercy on me, a sinner. Amen.
CONCLUSION
Such is the story. It was written by a common workman awaiting sentence of death in a prison cell. The last prayer was written exactly six weeks after his condemnation.
Conrad began to feel a little frightened. He had been so absorbed in his Saviour's story that he felt himself to be almost part of it. He had written it all day, and dreamed of it all night. He had been in the stable at Bethlehem, he had wandered by the Lake of Gennesaret, and spent nights in the wilderness of Judaea. He had journeyed to Sidon, and across the mountains to Jerusalem. He, a prisoner in jail and sentenced to death, had stood on the Mount of Olives, he had been in Bethany and supped at Jesus' side. But now he felt almost indifferent to the thought. Had he not lived through that glorious death at Golgotha? All else sank into insignificance beside that. It almost seemed to him as if he had passed beyond the veil. The Risen One possessed all his soul. He could not get away from all these holy memories. Then suddenly came the thought: when death comes I must be brave. He remembered a story his mother had once told him of a Roman executioner who, on receiving orders to behead a young Christian, had been so overcome with pity that he had fainted. The youth had revived him, and comforted him as bravely as if it had been his duty to die, as it was the executioner's to kill. But then Conrad told himself: you are a guilty creature, and cannot compare yourself with a saint. Would you be brave enough to act like that? Would you? It is sweet to die with Jesus, but it is still sweeter to live with Him.
The jailer asked him if he would care to go out once more into the open air.
Out into the air? Out into the prison yard, where all the refuse was thrown? No. He thanked him; he would prefer to remain in his cell. It could not be for long now.
"No; it will not be for long now," said the old man. But he did not tell him that in the meantime the Chancellor had died of his wounds, although from the "old grumbler's" increased tenderness Conrad might have suspected that his case did not stand in a favourable light.
"If you are truly brave," the old man told him, "the next time you go out you shall walk under green trees."