“‘But how poor an argument is that compared with the near approach of Christ! Sudden death might come to one person in a congregation before twenty-four hours, but in a sense, that would touch that one person only. But if Christ came to take up His people from the earth—the dead in Christ from their graves, the living from their occupations, etc.,—this would affect every unsaved soul in every part of the country, of the world, even.’”
Tom Hammond paused in his reading.
“What on earth can she mean?” he murmured, under his breath. Then he went on from the letter:
“I gave myself up to God there and then, Mr. Hammond, and am seeking now to live so that, should Christ come, even before I finish this letter, I may be ready to be caught up to meet Him in the air.”
Hammond paused again.
“What can the woman mean?” he murmured again. With the letter held in his hand, his eyes became fixed upon space, his mind was searching for something that he had recently heard or read bearing on this strange topic. The clue seemed almost within grasp, yet for awhile he could not recall it.
Suddenly it came to him. A volume of poems had been sent to him for review, amid the excitement of the second day’s issue of “The Courier.” He had glanced rapidly through the book, had written a brief line for his paper, acknowledging the receipt of the book, and promising to refer to it fully at some later date.
“That book,” he mused, “had something in it about—about——”
He got up from the rocker, took his place at his table, then wheeled about slowly in his revolving chair, and began searching his book-case. In an instant his keen eye picked out the volume he sought. He wheeled round again to his table, the book in his hand.