O, I've knowed cases--You can never tell how near salvation is.

One minute the heart's like a stone, and the next maybe 'tis melted and singing like fat in a pan.
'Tis working! 'tis working!" The congregation broke out with cries: "Amen!" "Glory, glory!" The Squire's lips moved and he muttered something.

But stony despair sat in his eyes.
"Ay, glory, glory! You've been a doubter, and you doubt no longer.
Soon you'll be a shouter.

Man, you'll dance like as David danced before the Ark! You'll feel it in your toes! Come along, friends, while he's resting a minute! Sing all together--oh, the blessed peace of it!-- "'I long to be there, His glory to share--'" He pitched the note, and the congregation took up the second line with a rolling, gathering volume of song.

It broke on the night like the footfall of a regiment at charge.