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fear of death was banished. They could now covet the prison and the
fagot if they might thereby honor the name of their Redeemer.
In secret places the word of God was thus brought forth and read,
sometimes to a single soul, sometimes to a little company who were
longing for light and truth. Often the entire night was spent in this
manner. So great would be the wonder and admiration of the listeners
that the messenger of mercy was not infrequently compelled to cease
his reading until the understanding could grasp the tidings of salvation.
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Often would words like these be uttered: “Will God indeed accept my
offering? Will He smile upon me? Will He pardon me?” The answer
was read: “Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I
will give you rest.”
Matthew 11:28
.
Faith grasped the promise, and the glad response was heard: “No
more long pilgrimages to make; no more painful journeys to holy
shrines. I may come to Jesus just as I am, sinful and unholy, and He
will not spurn the penitential prayer. ‘Thy sins be forgiven thee.’ Mine,
even mine, may be forgiven!”
A tide of sacred joy would fill the heart, and the name of Jesus
would be magnified by praise and thanksgiving. Those happy souls
returned to their homes to diffuse light, to repeat to others, as well
as they could, their new experience; that they had found the true and
living Way. There was a strange and solemn power in the words of
Scripture that spoke directly to the hearts of those who were longing
for the truth. It was the voice of God, and it carried conviction to those
who heard.
The messenger of truth went on his way; but his appearance of
humility, his sincerity, his earnestness and deep fervor, were subjects
of frequent remark. In many instances his hearers had not asked him
whence he came or whither he went. They had been so overwhelmed,
at first with surprise, and afterward with gratitude and joy, that they had
not thought to question him. When they had urged him to accompany
them to their homes, he had replied that he must visit the lost sheep of
the flock. Could he have been an angel from heaven? they queried.
In many cases the messenger of truth was seen no more. He had
made his way to other lands, or he was wearing out his life in some
unknown dungeon, or perhaps his bones were whitening on the spot
where he had witnessed for the truth. But the words he had left behind
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