labour, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

I do not know how, but the message of our Lord had a new meaning. I
had heard it read a hundred times without ever thinking of its meaning,
but now my heart throbbed with a new hope as I thought of it, "Come
unto Me, Come unto Me, and I will give you rest." I kept repeating the
passage.

"Lord, how can I come!" I cried, "and how can'st Thou hear my voice,
the voice of a murderer?" and then, as if in answer to my cry, I seemed
to hear the words, "Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast
out!"

That night for the first time for years I truly prayed. I prayed for
light, for penitence, for forgiveness. Ay, I did come to Christ as a
poor penitent wayward sinner, and even as I prayed, I caught myself
thinking of my brother Wilfred. Without realising what I was doing, I
remembered some of our boyish freaks. I thought of the happy days we
had spent together and of the times we had knelt side by side and
prayed; and then, I know not how, I realised that the hatred I had felt
for Wilfred was gone. God had answered my prayer; I had learned to
love, and to love my enemy.

Do not imagine that my burden was gone when I felt this. The memory of
that terrible night became more vivid; but I was changed. I was not
the man I was on the night when I madly wrestled with my brother. God
had answered my prayer, and in doing so He had changed me.

I went back to the vessel a new man, with new feelings, new desires,
new aspirations.

Night came on again, and still the vessel remained in the harbour at
Smyrna. I sat on the deck alone, looking sometimes at the lights of
the town, and again at the moonlit sea, still longing and praying for
rest. Hour after hour I remained, until my heart grew so sad that I
began to realise a misery as great almost as that I had known before
the hatred I had for my brother was taken away.

"Oh, God, what shall I do?" I cried at length.

What was it that answered me? A voice from Heaven, or was it my own
heart? All I know is that, sounding from I know not where, I heard the
words, "Go home."

I felt I could not do this. I could not bear to go back to the scenes
of my misery and sin. I should be ever seeing the dead face of my
brother; there would be less rest for me there than here. Nor it would
not be safe to do so. Perhaps even now the officers of the law were
in-- But I would not think of that.

All through the night