nion? Certain it is that his hand moved vaguely over
the blanket. It slipped over the edge of the bed and fell upon the bowed
head of the sexton and remained there as if in benediction. And so the
shadow deepened, and at last it was like unto nothing else known to the
sons of men on earth, and the spirit leaped out of its clay tenement
with the breath of the communion wine still on the lips of the frail,
perishable body.

Philip reverently raised the arm and laid it on the bed. The sexton
rose, and, while the tears rolled over his face, he gazed long into the
countenance of the son of his old master. No division of race now. No
false and selfish prejudice here. Come! Let the neighbors of the dead
come in to do the last sad offices to the casket. For the soul of this
disciple is in the mansions of glory, and it shall hunger no more,
neither thirst any more, neither shall the darkness of death ever again
smite it; for it shall live forever in the light of that Lamb of God who
gave Himself for the remission of sins and the life everlasting.

Philip did what he could on such an occasion. It was not an unusual
event altogether; he had prayed by many a poor creature in the clutch of
the last enemy, and he was familiar with his face in the tenements. But
this particular scene had a meaning and left an impression different
from any he had known before. When finally he was at liberty to go home
for a little rest before the evening service, he found himself more than
usually tired and sorrowful. Mrs. Strong noticed it as he came in. She
made him lie down and urged him to give up his evening service.

"No, no, Sarah! I can't do that! I am prepared; I must preach! I'll get
a nap and then I'll feel better," he said.

Mrs. Strong shook her head, but Philip was determined. He slept a
little, ate a little lunch, and when the time of service came, he went
up to the church again. As his habit was, just before the hour of
beginning, he went into the little room at the side of the platform to
pray by himself. When he came out and began the service, no one could
have told from his manner that he was suffering physically. Even Mrs.
Strong, who was watching him anxiously, felt relieved to see how quiet
and composed he was.

He had commenced his sermon and had been preaching with great eloquence
for ten minutes, when he felt a strange dizziness and a pain in his
side, that made him catch his breath and clutch the side of the pulpit
to kee