And the Sunday evening prayer-meeting grew. Little by little.
Old Sarah and her new shoes were there of course, at once.
Those who first came never failed. And week by week, as I went
into the kitchen with my Bible, I saw a larger circle; found
the room better lined with dark forms and sable faces. They
come up before me now as I write, one and another. I loved
them all. I love them still, for I look to meet many of them
in glory; "where there is neither bond nor free." Nay, that is
_here_ and at present, to all who are in Christ; we do not wait
for heaven, to be all one.
And they loved me, those poor people. I think Pete had
something the same sort of notion about me that those
Ephesians had of their image of Diana, which they insisted had
fallen from heaven. I used to feel it then, and be amused by
it.
But I am too long about my story. No wonder I linger, when the
remembrance is so sweet. With this new interest that had come
into my life, my whole life brightened. I was no longer
spiritless.
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