"And the father saw him afar off, and ran and fell on his neck, and kissed him." "Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out." "A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise." "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
"I hope it was not amiss to say those words I did from the chancel to-day," said the pastor to his wife when at home and they were alone together. "They are not in the service, but I could not help it. I never felt so deeply before how freely and fully God forgives us—us Christians as well as what we call 'poor sinners.' Yes, it came over me as it never has before, and somehow heaven seems nearer, and God more really my Father and Christ my Saviour. Do you understand me, my dear?"
"Yes, yes," she said—"yes, dear; and you too seem nearer to me than ever before."
The pastor answered, tenderly and solemnly: "It is you, wife, you and Elsa, and that poor Johanson, who have somehow opened my eyes. I have seen before, but seen darkly. May God lead me to the perfect day!"
CHAPTER VI.
PAINFUL DISCLOSURES.
Something about the strange inmate had affected the mad poet, long a dweller in the poorhouse, as unusual in that establishment. These fancies he had versified, and having written the result down on a half-sheet of paper, he folded it into a narrow strip, and then twisted it into an almost impossible knot, and handed it to the person nearest concerned.
Johanson read with astonishment:—