e humble church which Dyce and
Pompey called their spiritual home. The walls were white-washed and the
seats were hard, for the "Disciples of Jesus" possessed but little of
this world's goods. Two prayers followed, full of rich imagery and
fervid passion, and then a young girl with a deep contralto voice began
to sing,--

"Steal away, steal away,
Steal away to Jesus!
Steal away, steal away home,
We ain't got long to stay here."

The soft, deep notes of the weird melody ended in a burst of triumph,
and Evadne bent her head while her tired heart thrilled with joy. When
she looked up again Dyce was speaking.

"I've ben thinkin', friens," she said, "that we don't get the sweetness
of them words inter our hearts ez we should. We'se too much taken up wid
de thought of de heavenly manshuns to 'member dat de King's chillen hez
an inheritance on de earth. We'se not poor, lonesome people widout a
home! De dear Christ promised, 'I will not leave youse orphans, I will
come to youse,' an' he who hez de Lord Jesus alongside, hez de best of
company. 'Pears like we don't let our Father's message go any deeper dan
de top of our heads. Ef we believes we'se preshus in his sight,--an' de
Bible sez we is,--we'll hev no occashun fer gettin discouraged, fer de
dear Lord's boun ter do de best fer his loved ones. Ef we'se keepin'
company wid Jesus we'se no call ter want de worl's invitashuns, an ef
we'se hidden away in Christ's heart dere's no need fer us ter be
frettin' about de little worriments of earth. Satan don't hev no chance
where Jesus is. Ef we'se tempted, friens, an' fall inter sin, it's
'cause we'se not livin' close ter de Saviour.

"I knows we allers tinks of a home as a place where dere is good times,
an' dere don't seem much good times goin' for some of us in dis worl',
but dere ain't no call fer us ter spec' ter be better off dan our Lord,
an ef we'se feedin' on de Lord Jesus all de time we won't min' ef de
worl's bread is scarce; de soul ain't dependin' on dem tings fer
nourishmen' an' de Lord Jesus makes de hard bed easy an' de coarse food
taste good.

"'Tain't good management fer us ter be allers groanin' in dis worl'
while we 'spect ter be singin' de glory song up yonder. De best singers
is dem dat's longes' trainin' an' I'se feared some of us'll find it
drefful hard ter git up ter de proper concert pitch in heaven ef we
sings nuthin but lamentashuns on earth. De dear Lord don't seem ter hev
made any sort