The sun began to strike in level rays across the land, and the air was
cooler, but I gave no heed to things about me. Death was waiting--slow,
taunting death. The stars would be kind again to-night as they had been
last night, but death crouching between me and the starlight, was slowly
crawling up Pawnee Rock. Oh, so slowly, yet so surely creeping on. The
sun was gone and a tender pink illumined the sky. The light was soft
now. If death would only steal in before the glare burst forth. I forgot
that night must come first. Pity, God of heaven, pity me!
And then the Presence came, and a sweet, low voice--I hear it still
sometimes, when sunsets soften to twilight, "_My presence shall go with_
_thee, and I will give thee rest."_ I felt a thrill of triumph pulse
through my being. Unconquered, strong, and glad is he who trusts.
"I shall not die. I shall live, and in God's good time I shall be
saved." I tried to speak the words, but I could not hear my voice. My
pains were gone and I lay staring at the evening sky all
mother-of-pearl and gold above my head. And on my lips a smile.
And so they found me at twilight, as a tired child about to fall asleep.
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