At this moment there goes up from her heart a
despairing cry, such as a poor, hunted, tired-out creature gives when
brought to the last gasp of endurance. It was like the shriek of the hare
when the hounds are upon it. She clasps her hands and cries out, "O my
God, help me."
There was no voice of any that answered; there was no sound of foot-fall
on the staircase; no one entered the door; and yet that agonized cry had
reached the heart it was meant for. The Shining Ones were with her; they
stood, with faces full of tenderness, beaming down upon her; they brought
her a Christmas gift from Christ--the gift of trust. She knew not from
whence came the courage and rest that entered her soul; but while her
little ones stood wondering and silent, she turned and drew to herself
her well-worn Bible. Hands that she did not see guided her as she turned
the pages, and pointed the words: _He shall deliver the needy when he
crieth; the poor also and him that hath no helper. He shall spare the
poor and needy, and shall save the souls of the needy. He shall redeem
their soul from deceit and violence, and precious shall their blood be in
his sight._
She laid down her poor wan cheek on the merciful old book, as on her
mother's breast, and gave up all the tangled skein of life into the hands
of Infinite Pity.
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