That done, she would kiss
him, and leave him: she had her own work to do. Filled with
prayer she would walk steadily back the well-known way to the
shop, where, all day long, ministering with gracious service to
the wants of her people, she would know the evening and its
service drawing nearer and nearer, when Joseph would come, and
the delights of heaven would begin afresh at home, in music, and
verse, and trustful talk. Every day was a life, and every evening
a blessed death--type of that larger evening rounding our day
with larger hope. But many Christians are such awful pagans that
they will hardly believe it possible a young loving pair should
think of that evening, except with misery and by rare compulsion!
That morning, as they went, they talked--thus, or something like
this:
"O Mary!" said Joseph, "hear the larks! They are all saying:
'Jo-seph! Jo-seph! Hearkentome, Joseph! Whatwouldyouhavebeenbutfor
Mary, Jo-seph?' That's what they keep on singing, singing in the
ears of my heart, Mary!"
"You would have been a true man, Joseph, whatever the larks may
say."
"A solitary melody, praising without an upholding harmony, at
best, Mary!"
"And what should I have been, Joseph? An inarticulate harmony--
sweetly mumbling, with never a thread of soaring song!"
A pause followed.
"I shall be rather shy of your father, Mary," said Joseph.
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