It has been my lot
in life to become entangled and betrayed by hypocrites of various
professions. They disgusted and embittered me with all religion. I
tried to think you a hypocrite, and cursed your patience and good works
as so many snares for gain. But my eyes were opened. I followed you
yesterday, out to that old negro's hut; I wrung the tale of your
charities from your unwilling lips, and know and understand all. And
now, in return for all my harshness, my neglect, my cruel unkindness,
you save my life; you tend me, nurse me, watch me, and for what? _For
the love of God_.
"Don't interrupt me, little one. _You have proved the truth_ of the
faith you profess by your works. It suits me. I need no doctrinal
arguments, no theological and abstruse disquisitions, to convince me
that it is right. I believe it, May, even at the eleventh hour, when I
have but little to hope. I believe--perhaps as devils do--for, child,
I tremble."
"Oh, dear uncle, the grace of contrition is never given to devils. It
is Almighty God who has touched your heart. He pities, and would save
you. 'I desire not the death of him that dieth, saith the Lord God;
return ye, and live.'"
"Does he say that?"
"Yes; that, and ten thousand times more. Think of Him, dear uncle,
'who was wounded for our transgressions, who was bruised for our sins;
the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and by his bruises we are
healed.'"
"What must I do besides?"
"Believe, and be baptized.
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