“Don’t die, father,” said little Peter, in a piteous voice. “Oh, father, father, surely you are not going to leave us!” sobbed William; “who will teach us the Bible, or show us the way to heaven any more?”
“I wish I could, O Lord teach me!” exclaimed Lacy, and he groaned.
“God grant that prayer!” cried the pious Connor. “I know he hears it, and I trust his Holy Spirit will lead you to Jesus, my friend, and teach you to lead others there.”
“He cannot,” said Lacy, in an agony, “I am too vile, too sinful, too wicked, he cannot.”
“He will,” replied Connor fervently, “if you are now sensible of sin, and feel the need of a Saviour, you will find him; and your dying hour will be as peaceful as mine.”
Lacy was quite overcome: he sat down, covered his face, and wept. Even Mary spared a look of kindness from her dying husband to the awakened sinner.
The clergyman had been sent for, and now came in: he looked with concern on poor Connor, who forgot his own sufferings, and pointing to Lacy, said, “Comfort him,” then whispered Mary to send for Susan.
The clergyman touched Lacy’s shoulder, and said, “My friend, raise yourself, and behold the instructive scene—the death-bed of a Christian.”
He obeyed, and came near the bed with those who had arrived to visit their dying neighbour; for Connor was loved, or at least respected by all who knew him.
“Sir,” said Connor to the clergyman, “I trust that my sins, which are many and great, are forgiven.”