Sobbing, they testified
as to their depth of sin and their sense of forgiveness, while
Brother Poole intermittently cut in with staccato exclamations such
as "Praise the Lord!" and "My Redeemer Liveth!"
Missy was eager to see whether grandpa and grandma would stand up
and testify. When neither of them did so, she didn't know whether
she was more disappointed or relieved. Perhaps their silence denoted
that their souls had been born anew quite easily. Or again--! She
sighed; her soul, at all events, had proved a failure.
She was silent on the way home. Grandpa and grandma held her two
hands clasped in theirs and over her head talked quietly. She was
too dejected to pay much attention to what they were saying; caught
only scattered, meaningless phrases: "Of course that kind of frenzy
is sincere but--" "Simple young things--" "No more idea of sin or
real repentance--"
But Missy was engrossed with her own dismal thoughts. The blood of
the Lamb had passed her by.
And that night, for the first time in three nights, the grace of God
didn't flow in on the flood of moonlight through her window.
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