He heard whispered cries and the sound of tears, the prayer of the publican, the tears of the Magdalene, and now and then there came a glad thanksgiving of overflowing joy.

Toyner tried to repeat what he heard, hoping thereby to give some expression to the need within him; but all that he could think of was the craving for strong drink that he knew would return and that he knew he could not resist.
He heard light footsteps, and felt a strong arm embracing his own trembling frame.

The preacher had come to kneel where he knelt, and to pray, not for him, but with him.
"I cannot," said Bart Toyner, "I can't, I can't." "Why not ?" whispered the preacher.
"Because I know I shall take to drink again." "Which do you love best, God or the drink ?" asked the preacher.

"If you love the drink best, you ought not to be here; if you love God best, you need have no fear." "God." The word embodied the great new idea which had entered Toyner's soul, the idea of the love that had power to help him.
"I want to get hold of God," he said; "but it isn't any use, for I shall just go and get drunk again." "Dear, dear fellow," said the young preacher, his arm drawing closer round Bart, "He is able and willing to keep you; all you have to do is to take Him for your Master, and He will come to you and make a new man of you.

He will take the drink crave away.