Joy cometh in the morning

THIRZA

From the German, by Elizabeth Marie Lloyd*

Concluded from Vol 6 p.202

II

Joy cometh in the morning

Let us now turn to her unhappy father, who in the meantime passed many an hour of untold misery. He shut himself up, and refused to attend to any but indispensable business. For him there was no ray of comfort to cheer the dark night of affliction—no solace of the Gospel to gladden the future. The death of his wife had been a severe stroke; but far more afflicting, beyond comparison, was the apostasy of his daughter. A thousand distracting thoughts shot through his frenzied brain, as he sat in gloomy melancholy, brooding over his grief.

At times, the desire to examine what the Prophets had spoken concerning the Messiah, flashed across his mind; but, oftener still, an ardent longing for his child, the joy and the pride of his life,
prevailed over his malediction, and he was in the act of revoking his ban, when the dark spirit of superstition re-asserted her supremacy, and his bitter hatred of the Nazarene stifled every kindlier feeling. In this conflicting agony of soul, his strength rapidly declined; and a nervous fever came on.

One morning, while standing at the window, Thirza saw the carriage of the family doctor drive up to the door. She learnt that her father was alarmingly ill; that he had sent for a stranger to nurse him, and would not allow any one to enter his room.

Thirza hastened to her friends at the Manse and found them as before, ready and able to sympathize with her in this her hour of unlooked-for grief. The pastor again encouraged her to place her unshaken confidence in Him “whose counsel is wonderful, and who doeth all things well.” After a short stay she returned home somewhat comforted; but as she entered the house the thought of her father’s illness again oppressed her. On her way to her own room she passed his sick chamber and stopped to listen if she might but catch the sound of his voice—but all was silent. She involuntarily turned the handle of the door; but her resolution failed her and she let it go, and with a heavy heart returned to the solitude of her own room, there to seek relief in tears and prayers.

Thirza was now tried in the furnace of temptation, heated seven times stronger than before. She saw herself in the power of Satan, who desired to have her that he might sift her as wheat; but she saw also One standing at her right hand, who was greater than her adversary; and she took courage from the declaration of her great High Priest, “I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not.” (Luke 22. 32.) Though her flesh was weak, and her strength well nigh spent, she realized that the everlasting arms were beneath her;
that “He who telleth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their names; healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.” (Psa. 147, 3, 4.)

With increasing fervour Thirza now prayed for the life of her father, and begged the Lord to give her access to his room. Encouraged and comforted, she rose from her knees, and resolved, in His strength, to go to her father.

As she approached the door of his room, her courage once more forsook her, and she was about to return and wait till the following day. She listened, but all continued silent like the stillness of the grave.

The anxious fear, that her loved father was perhaps already dead, suddenly seized her, and in her alarm she hastily opened the door and entered. She stood at the foot of his bed. There he lay, unconscious of her presence, in a disturbed, feverish slumber. But how was her heart wounded when she saw the havoc of a few short days, and traced the stamp of bitter sorrow, in his pale, wan face. She immediately sat down by his bedside, firmly resolved not to resign a place, which, as daughter, belonged to her.

For a while she was lost in prayerful meditation, often gazing upon the cherished, grief-worn features of the aged sufferer, watching his every movement with trembling interest. At last he opened his eyes, and exclaimed, in a low voice, “Thirza, Thirza, my darling child, where are you?”

Thirza, unable any longer to keep back, pressed a kiss upon his burning lips, as if for ever to remove the fatal curse, and to seal them against the stem word of banishment.

The invalid was now fully awake and perfectly collected. The sight of his beloved daughter, was a sweet solace to him; but a violent mental conflict succeeded in which the prejudices of the Jew overcame the feelings of the father. He abruptly withdrew his hand, which Thirza still held in her own, and said, with vehemence, “What are you doing here?”

“Dear father, I am here to nurse you. I may, may I not, my father?”

“Do you then renounce that cursed faith?”

“Oh, do not speak of that, at least not now, dear father! You are very ill, and talking excites you too much. And who can nurse you so well as your Thirza, whom you always loved so dearly? You have now no one else in the world, and will you turn me away? Oh, no! you cannot! Nor will I let you send me from you! You will let me remain with you, dear father, will you not?”

The aged Israelite sighed deeply, and was silent. Oh! how thankful she was to gain his silent acquiescence! She immediately made preparation to sit up with him.

The first night which she passed by her father’s sick bed, was richly blessed to her soul. She remembered that it was the same night in which the Lord Jesus was betrayed; and during its silent watches, she opened her Bible, and read the history of His sufferings and death. She was, in spirit, in the garden of Gethsemane, and felt the value of that agony and bloody sweat which the Saviour had endured for her sake.

On the morning of Good Friday, the distant bells of the village
church reminded her that her Christian friends were about to assemble to commemorate the crucifixion of their Lord; but she resolved to forego the privilege and remain at home with her father. It is true his distance and reserve towards her were very painful; at first he did not even speak to her, but it was impossible long to continue insensible to the difference between the care of a fond and tender daughter and the attendance of a domestic, however kind and faithful. After a while his coldness gave way, he applied to her for what he wanted, and once even thanked her for some trilling service; but he did not enter into conversation, nor indeed did Thirza desire it. She was delighted to be with her father, and to be permitted to nurse him; and the more so as she looked upon it as an answer to prayer. The stillness of the sick chamber was congenial to her feelings. She was either occupied in watching by the sick-bed of her beloved parent, or, when he slept, sitting behind the curtain and reading the Word of God. Thus passed the first two days. Gradually, however, her father’s manner assumed a more cordial tone; occasionally he even conversed with her, though still with reserve. Easter Sunday came. Thirza had again sat up during the night; but when the church bells welcomed the morning, all sense of fatigue vanished, and her spirit felt refreshed in reading the account of Christ appearing to Mary Magdalene. She realized the salutation of her risen Lord as if addressed to her own heart, and gratefully participated in the joy and mercy brought to believers by His resurrection.

Thus several weeks passed away. Thirza could now visit her friend Maria but seldom. She had become indispensable to her father, and as she could rarely find leisure for writing in the day time, she occasionally availed herself of the silent hours of the night; and while watching beside the sick bed, it was her greatest delight, next to that of reading the Word of God, to open her heart to her sympathizing friends, in letters.

Thirza observed that her father’s eye frequently rested thoughtfully upon her, with an expression which bespoke the affection of his heart, or his silent astonishment at the change which was evidenced in her conduct. Indeed it was not possible any longer to conceal the deep impression made upon his mind by her unwearied solicitude night and day for many weeks together, and especially by her unvarying cheerfulness and contentment. This struck him the more as her conduct had formerly been the very reverse, for, though endued with strong natural affection, she had been the spoilt child of wealthy parents. Accustomed from her earliest infancy to have her every wish gratified, a love for gaiety and amusement was fostered, and she became highly sensitive, and even irritable, in her disposition. Now, on the contrary, he saw her watching by his side day and night, and not only foregoing every amusement, but even needful relaxation, apparently without causing her the slightest effort. She seemed to have no wish but that of ministering to his comfort.

In his long protracted convalescence he was often fretful, and
the natural violence of his temper sometimes broke out in harsh language towards her, yet she retained her self-possession, or soon overcame any rising emotion. This striking change in Thirza’s conduct filled her father with wonder and delight, and he often looked at her with satisfaction; but this was generally succeeded by a sullen gloom, for he could not conceal from himself that this improvement in her conduct was connected with her change of faith. He mourned over what he considered her apostasy from the God of Israel, and the thought that his daughter was a Christian was grievous to his soul.

These reflections often powerfully oppressed him, but his inveterate hatred to the Christian religion was nevertheless inperceptibly giving way before the mild and affectionate conduct of his child. Much, however, as his mind was engrossed with these thoughts, he strenuously avoided all allusion to the subject, nor did Thirza venture to tell him of her anxiety on his behalf.

As a faint gleam of hope began to dawn, Thirza prayed more earnestly for him, and she now felt the importance of the Apostle’s exhortations (1 Peter 3, 1) to which the clergyman had one day drawn her attention: “Be in subjection, that if any obey not the word, they may without the word be won by the conversation of the wives.”

One afternoon, Thirza, under the impression that her father was asleep, sat down at some distance from his bed and took out her Bible, which was daily becoming more precious to her. She had not been reading long when she heard her father stir, and, on looking up, saw him putting aside the curtain to see if she was there. “Do you wish for anything?” she inquired hastily. “No, but I cannot sleep; I see you are reading, you may as well read aloud.”

Thirza trembled, for she had been studying the opening chapter of St. John’s Gospel; and her first impulse therefore, was to turn to the Psalms or Prophets, but her father exclaimed, “Go on reading where you are!” and this, of course, decided her. In silent prayer she asked the Lord to grant a blessing upon His own word, and, committing the issue to Him, she commenced the chapter and read with a faltering voice, but with great devotion.

After listening attentively for some moments, her father asked with surprise, “What are you reading, Thirza?”

“You will soon know father, if you allow me to continue.” He did so, and when Thirza came to the 17th verse, in which the name of Jesus is mentioned she pronounced it in a firm and distinct tone. Her father interrupted her; not, however, as she had dreaded, with a fearful oath, but with the quiet observation, “I thought so; yes, I felt sure it was the book of the Christians. Ah! Thirza! Thirza!” added he in a softened tone. Thirza looked up, but he had turned away his face, and not knowing whether he felt disposed to sleep or to listen, she continued reading to the end of the second chapter.

“That is all fable and lies,” he muttered in a low tone; “but they say of this fellow just what they choose. Leave off, for there is not
a word of truth in the whole story.”

Thirza, however, said mildly, “May I not read a little more, dear father? We have just come to the narrative of a rich and learned ruler of our own people, which I am sure will interest you.” Eliezer was silent, and Thirza proceeded to read the account of our Lord’s interview with Nicodemus, and laid special emphasis on the important declaration relative to the new birth.

“What is that?” exclaimed her father, turning round abruptly;
“read that again.”

Thirza complied, and he raised himself in bed, listening with the utmost attention. She proceeded to the 14th and 15th verses, where our Lord speaks of the brazen serpent, and then asked him to explain it, as she was not acquainted with the history. He did so. Thirza, in the meantime, turned to the reference given in the margin, and read from the 4th to the 9th verse of the 19th chapter of Numbers. “How is this!” exclaimed he; “Why that is our law;
how comes it to be in the book of the Christians? Give me the book.” He took the Bible out of her hand, turned over the leaves, glancing at the Books of Moses, the Psalms, and the Prophets; he then examined the passage which had so much struck him, and also read the following verse, that precious text of Gospel comfort, “God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish, but have everlasting life.” For some moments he remained absorbed in deep meditation, and then, as if seeing himself at the edge of a precipice, he threw the book on the bed, and turned his face to the wall.

Thirza understood what was passing in his mind, and placed the Bible out of his sight; her heart was filled with gratitude to the Lord, for she clearly saw His providential leading in this circumstance, and prayed with greater assurance of faith for the conversion of her father. From this time Thirza always read the Bible in her father’s sight. She patiently waited till the Lord should again open the door. It was evident that her father had been much impressed with what he had heard; and the firm hold it had taken on his mind appeared some little time after, when, without any leading towards the subject, he inquired abruptly, “Thirza, what was said in that verse about the new birth?” She repeated the words without comment, rejoicing secretly at this indication that a work was commencing in his heart.

The inward uneasiness arising from his unsettled state of mind, often made Eliezer peevish and irritable; and one morning, after passing a sleepless night, in which his cough had been more than usually troublesome, his ill-humour broke out in much violence against his faithful nurse. Thirza wept, but with great effort she persevered in her usual gentleness of manner. He afterwards seemed to realize his unkindness, and expressing his regret at what had passed, asked her for forgiveness; but she begged him not to mention the subject, and assured him how gladly she would do anything to see him well and happy. “I must tell you candidly,
Thirza,” added he, “you are an enigma to me; you have always been an affectionate child, but the change which has lately taken place in your behaviour is quite unaccountable, I cannot understand it; what has caused it?”

“From the new birth, dear father, through faith in the Messiah;” replied she, in a low tone of voice. Eliezer drew back and, after a short pause, exclaimed, “Thirza, tell me candidly, who was it that persuaded you to embrace the Christian faith? Tell me freely, and without hesitation.”

Nothing could be more welcome to Thirza than such a request from her father, who thus gave her an opportunity of bringing before him the attractive power of the cross. She related, with the confidence of a child and the enthusiasm of a young convert, the providential way in which she had been led to embrace the truth. When she spoke of her first school, he sighed and said, “Ah! it is then from that school that the curse proceeds which hangs over our house. Had I known what would happen I never would have sent you there.”

“Say, rather, the blessing, my father—at least as regards myself;
and who can tell—”

“You know not what I know, but go on.”

When she spoke of the 53rd of Isaiah, which she turned to and read to him, he said, with some severity, “Thirza, it is presumptuous for an ignorant girl to interpret the Law and the Prophets. It is the business of the learned, and they have explained that chapter in a very different manner.” He then began to combat her belief in the truth with the usual objections and sophistical interpretations of the Rabbis. She, however, clearly saw that he was fighting against the impression which the truth had made upon his mind, and was striving to resist the power of conviction.

She therefore said, mildly, “My dear father, I cannot argue, I am, it is true, an ignorant girl, little acquainted with these matters;
yet I can testify before God that I speak only of what I have myself experienced. This I know, and am assured of, my sins have been forgiven. The Lord Jesus is mine, and I am His. Oh! my beloved father, would that you also experienced the fulness of this blessing! Oh! that you would pray to God to open your understanding.”

Here he again interrupted her with apparent displeasure, but, in truth, with the desire to escape from the force of her words, which affected him more than he chose to admit; and he asked her to continue her story.

She told him of the sermon which she heard on that eventful Sunday, and with peculiar emphasis repeated the words of the imprecation: “His blood be on us and on our children,” which at that time so greatly alarmed her, but which now, in their secondary meaning, were the joy and comfort of her life. With the natural eloquence of grief she expressed the anguish which she then felt that the curse was resting upon her, upon her father, and upon her beloved mother who had already been summoned before the judgment-seat of God.

Eliezer sighed deeply at the mention of his wife, and struggled to suppress the emotion which almost overwhelmed him. He then desired Thirza to be silent, saying that so much talking fatigued him, and that he wished for a little rest. He accordingly composed himself to sleep; and Thirza, who was much affected, availed herself of this quiet interval to hold converse with God in prayer, and to supplicate fervently for her father’s spiritual welfare. She had a good hope that the Holy Spirit was already beginning to influence his heart, and she awaited, with anxious expectations, the result of the Lord’s dealings.

A slight noise interrupted her meditations, and listening attentively, she thought she heard her father speak. She approached: at first she heard only a low murmur—he seemed to be engaged in prayer, and she caught the sound of the word “blood.”. She listened with increased eagerness, and heard her father repeat the word more distinctly than before: while her heart beat with pleasure, as he thus seemed to be pondering it in his mind. He opened his eyes, and looked at her with surprise, as she leaned over the bed, and said, “What do you want, Thirza?” She replied that she thought he inquired for something; he lay still for a while, and then, as if roused from deep reflection, said, “Tell me, Thirza, is there not in the book of the Christians something about the blood which cleanses from sin?” Surprised at the question, she replied, “You probably mean the text ‘The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.’ ” (1 John 1, 7.)

“Yes, that is it, I think.”

“I learnt these words in a prayer while I was at school,” replied Thirza, “and they recurred to me very vividly at the time I was so uneasy on account of my sins, and proved a great comfort to me. But may I ask, dear father, how you came to know these words?”

“My dear child, do not speak to me about it; you do not know how it affects me.”

“May I not know from whom you heard them? you have never read any Christian book, have you?”

Her father was silent. After a pause, as if aroused from a severe internal conflict against which he had in vain struggled, he exclaimed, “I cannot conceal it any longer. I will tell you, Thirza, on condition that you never allude to the subject; it has never yet passed my lips, and I intended to carry the secret with me to the grave. I heard these words from the lips of your dying mother—they were her last words.”

This statement was a great effort to Eliezer, and, overcome by the feelings which harrowed his soul, he sank back upon the pillow and covered his face with his hands to conceal his tears; but loud sobs and broken exclamations betrayed his internal anguish.

Thirza was no less affected. She could scarcely believe that she had heard aright. Were these indeed the last words of her beloved mother? Had she entered the presence of God trusting in the blood of the eternal covenant? How gladly would Thirza have heard more—how ardently did she long to ask for further
particulars; but her father was so deeply moved she dare not. An impenetrable veil still hung over this expression of her dying mother; yet she thought she could discern in it a revelation of the grace of God, whose ways are secret, and who leads the blind by a way they know not; and a ray of joyful hope that her mother had obtained an interest in the blood of Christ, shone into her heart. She threw herself in silent adoration before the Lord, and gave free vent to her tears—tears of gratitude for the wonderful riches of His mercy.

Eliezer, completely exhausted, had fallen into a deep sleep, and she availed herself of the opportunity to inform her friends at the Manse of the welcome news. As she became more collected, Thirza remembered that her father had been alone with her mother during her last hours, and had shown an anxiety which even at that time surprised her, to keep everyone, even herself, from her dying parent. She also recollected that he had never shown so much unkindness and asperity against everything, however remotely connected with Christians and the Christian faith, as since that period; and she consequently inferred that it was connected with something that had transpired at her mother’s death-bed.

His late conversations with his daughter greatly retarded Eliezer’s recovery. His convalescence was in fact so slow, and his nervous irritability so great, that Thirza carefully avoided every subject which might excite his mind, and never alluded to what had passed. He, however, often allowed her to read to him, so that by degrees she went through the greater part of the Gospel of St. John. On one occasion, seeing a letter in her hand, he asked her who it was from; and on her replying that it came from her friend Maria, he asked her to read it aloud. Eliezer seemed much pleased with what he heard, and from this time Thirza no longer concealed from him her daily correspondence or her visits to the Manse; even when she wished to go to church, she unhesitatingly asked his permission; and though he was silent and grave, he never opposed her doing so.

A considerable time thus passed in the stillness of the sick chamber. Both father and daughter were glad that the doctor forbade visitors; and as they had no relatives in the immediate neighbourhood, they remained undisturbed. As soon as the warm weather set in, the doctor urged his patient to go to his country house, which was only a few miles from town, as he thought that the change of air and scene would benefit him.

On a fine spring morning Thirza and her father accordingly set out. Their road lay through the village we have so often spoken of, and, in the joy of the moment, Thirza pointed out to her father the little church and manse peeping out among the trees; but he seemed displeased, and turned hastily away. Indeed, for some days, Thirza had been quite at a loss to understand the state of his mind. He was much more reserved; and when the conversation seemed in any way to lead to the subject dearest to Thirza, he
broke off abruptly; and on one occasion, in reply to her inquiry whether she should read aloud, he had declined it so hastily and sharply that she did not venture to repeat the question. Her artless and unsophisticated mind could form no conception of the conflict in which the feelings of her father were tossed to and fro.

As he recovered, the tenderness of feeling which had been in a great measure the result of bodily weakness, disappeared; and the clear calm judgment, which eminently distinguished him as a man of business, returned. He was filled with horror at the appalling fact that his daughter had become a Christian, and that even he himself, at the close of his days, was on the point of being convinced of the truth of the Christian religion.

Seasons of mental distress and doubt arose, in which he struggled with suppressed bitterness against the power which the truth had gained over him; he kicked in vain against the pricks, which impelled him towards the crucified Saviour, whom he had so often blasphemed. The clear fulfilment of prophecy forcibly operated to convince his understanding; but the most effective argument was the living witness of the power of the Gospel manifested in the conduct of his daughter.

Against this, all his doubts availed nothing: for the change which had taken place in her, was too obvious to be mistaken. The only point connected with her conversion, which he could not comprehend, was her humility and penitence, when she lamented her sins, and spoke of herself as a sinner. Pharisaical self-righteousness powerfully struggled against this; for he was an upright and benevolent man, full of good works.

Thus nature contended with grace, and the more clearly he perceived that the fortress of his Judaism, which he had believed to be impregnable, was shaken to its very foundation, the more desperate was his resistance to the truth.

In this frame of mind he arrived at his country house. He passed a very disturbed and sleepless night; for his thoughts were like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest. Many distracting visions crowded upon his imagination, and a passage of Scripture which Thirza had once read haunted him incessantly, and led to a train of disquieting reflections. It was the prophecy in Zechariah 9, 10:
“They shall look on Me whom they have pierced.”

Sometimes the leading features of the crucifixion vividly presented themselves to his mind, and he fancied himself on Golgotha at the foot of the cross: then the recollection of his hatred to Christ and the curses which he had uttered against Him, flashed upon his mind. He was miserable from whatever point of view he regarded his situation. The judgment which the world would pass upon his daughter: the attitude which, as a Jew, he must now adopt towards her: the possibility of himself becoming a Christian: the sneers and scorn of men: these and similar thoughts combined to swell the storm that raged within. Then, too, he thought of his wife and of her dying words. He was bewildered;
and, in the excitement of his irritation, he cursed himself and his
weakness in allowing his daughter to see him again and even to speak to him of the Nazarene. Towards morning he fell into a disturbed unrefreshing sleep, and his dreams reflected the image of his waking thoughts.

When he awoke the sun was shining brightly and cheerfully into his chamber, but in his heart there was no gladdening sunshine. He fancied he heard his daughter in the next room, and, on listening, he caught the low murmur of prayer. He rose hastily, threw on his dressing gown, and hurried into the room. It was even as he thought; Thirza was on her knees in prayer. She had risen in a cheerful frame of mind, and the bright glorious spring morning heightened her joyous feelings. She had gone softly into her father’s chamber, and finding him asleep, had gone into the next room to read the Scriptures. Here, in the enjoyment of love and peace, and in the strong confidence of faith, she had sunk upon her knees before the Lord, and implored Him to open her father’s heart to the reception of the truth.

Most unexpectedly he came in as we have seen, and found Thirza at her devotions. Surprised and half ashamed, she sprang up, and kissing him, led him to the sofa. She at once saw the cloud that shadowed his face, and gladly would she have shared with him the holy joy which filled her heart. They approached the table, on which lay an open Bible; he seized it, and the words which had been so much upon his mind during the night, met his eye: “They shall look on Me whom they have pierced.” He started; and Thirza, not suspecting what was passing within, embraced him, and laying her hand upon the book, which he still held open, looked at him confidingly, and said, “Dear father, you believe in Jesus, who was crucified, do you not?”

The effect of this question on his mind was like that of a spark on combustible matter. An instant explosion of his highly excited feelings followed. He tore himself from the arms of his daughter, pushed her violently aside, and tearing the leaf out of the Bible, flung the Sacred Volume into a corner of the room. He trembled from head to foot from the violence of his passions, and fixed on Thirza a look of anger that penetrated her inmost soul. After a fearful pause, he exclaimed, “Cursed be the name”—but his voice failed him, he could not proceed, and with the unfinished curse against the Holy One of God upon his lips, he fell to the ground, as if struck by the lightning of His just vengeance.

The vehemence of his feelings were too much for his already excited nerves; and without any sign of consciousness or life, he lay stretched upon the floor. Thirza stood petrified. A sudden thunder cloud had darkened her fair morning of hope. When her father fell senseless at her feet, she uttered a piercing shriek; and struggling in vain with her feelings, she threw herself over him;
accusing herself of being his murderess.

The servants, attracted by the screams of Thirza, hurried to the spot, and were laying Eliezer on his bed, when the doctor providentially arrived, having come at that early hour to see how
his patient had borne the journey the previous day. After a painful suspense, he informed Thirza that her father had merely been in a deep faint, brought on by highly excited passion, and that the complete exhaustion following it, was gradually yielding to a calm
sleep. He advised her to remain in close attendance, and ordered the strictest quiet to be observed.

Thirza sat down in silence by her father’s bed. Her thoughts were busy with the past; she could not realize it; it seemed to her like a fearful, evil dream. The assurance that life remained, calmed the pain of her grief; for she was harrowed with the fear
that her father had been summoned to the bar of God’s justice, with that tremendous curse upon his lips, and that she was the cause of his awful death. With tears of anguish she turned to the Lord with the inquiry: “Wherefore, Lord? wherefore? Is this the path Thou hast ordained for me?” Gradually she became more calm and composed; but the state of her father’s mind was inexplicable, and lay as a heavy burden upon her heart. She pondered the anxious question of the women, “Who shall roll us away the stone from the door of the sepulchre,” (Mark 16, 3), as a gleam of hope shone into her breast, and she thought, “Who can tell whether this stone also may not be rolled away before I am aware of it.”

Thus she sat in silent meditation for some hours. Her tearful eye frequently rested upon her father with anxious love. His slumbers gradually became more disturbed. He seemed to awake,—his lips moved,—Thirza bent over him hoping to catch a sound. With joy she heard him whisper faintly, “God—my sins—Messiah.” He sighed deeply, and said more audibly, “Ah! I cannot hope to find
grace! it is too late—too late!” These words laid open the secret recesses of his heart. Thirza thanked the Lord, and felt assured that He would yet lead forth judgment unto victory.

Eliezer awoke, languid indeed, but yet refreshed. Thirza smiled upon him, and gently kissing his hand, said, “Thanks be to God for His great mercy.”

“Mercy! Ah! Thirza, there is no mercy for me!”

“Hush! Hush! dear father, do not speak now; your good doctor says you must be perfectly quiet, so do not speak just yet.”

He was silent for awhile, took the medicine which she gave him, but seemed restless and discomposed; his eye was intently fixed upon her