Because of Stephen (17 page)

Their voices grew softer with tenderness, but they sang on. They would sing him right
grandly into heaven if that was what he wanted, even if it broke their hearts. Their voices should not fail him while he could listen.

"The exile is at home!

Oh, nights and days of tears!"

Stephen pressed Margaret's hand that lay in his, at these words, and she tenderly kissed him.

"Oh, longings not to roam!
Oh,
sins and doubts
and fears! What matters now grief's darkest day When God has wiped all tears away?"

It was the minister who started other hymns, words that he had heard them sing in their gatherings.
They needed no books, nor could they have looked at them with their tear-blinded eyes, if they had them.

Stephen was sinking fast. He did not talk any more, nor look at them. Once he opened his eyes, and, looking at Margaret, murmured, "Dear sister!"

He had lain so still for a long time that they thought he had ceased breathing, when he
suddenly opened his eyes, and with a strength born of his flight into another world raised himself from the pillow, calling in a loud, clear voice:

"Did you call, father? Yes, sir, I'm coming!"

Then he fell back dead.

Was it some memory of his boyhood that came to him at last, or did he hear his heavenly Father's voice?

It was the minister that started to sing,

"Safe in the arms of Jesus, Safe on His gentle breast";

and
with choking sobs that did not need to be suppressed the men joined in the song that Stephen love
d. Just
then
the sun shot up be
hind the hills, and laid a touch of glory on the gold of Stephen's hair.

"He is safe home in Port," said the minister. "Let us pray."

They knelt about him in their grief, and heard him pray for them, and then went out and left Philip and Margaret with their sorrow and their joy.

They went out to a new world wherein were vows to
be kept
and a goal to be attained, and each man was resolved to do his best to
keep the sacred trust that Stephen had left to them.

They went about among Stephen's friends, and gathered up a goodly sum. They brought it to Margaret on the day of the funeral service, and told her it was for the church, and that it
should be built
at once. Margaret, smiling through her tears, thanked God, and knew her prayers
were being answered
.

They laid him in the place he had spoken of under the great tree that crowned the hill, and to mark it they put a stone whereon were engraved Stephen's name, the date, and the simple words, "Safe Home."

Beside the grave up rose the little church, its spire pointing heavenward, its doors stretched wide to save both day and night, its bell calling over the lonely country at set times of worship, and over the door, cut into the stone, the words,

"Stephen Halstead Memorial."

The ministe
r has found his church; and Ste
phen s life, though gathered safe home, is going on in the memory of those he is helping.

THE END.