“Again I was in those parts. It was very cold weather. There was an east wind blowing, and the sleety rain fell. It was getting dark, too, and the pleasantest place, as you all know, at such a time, is the fireside. As I came by the farm-house I saw the candle-light shining through the windows, and the smoke of a good fire coming out of the chimney. But there was still the man outside—knocking, knocking! And as I looked at him I saw that his hands, and feet were bare, and bleeding, and his visage as that of one marred with sorrow. My heart was very sad for him, and I said, ‘Sir, you had better not stand any longer at that hard man’s door. Let me advise you to go over the way to the poor widow. She has many children, and she works for her daily bread; but she will make you welcome.’ “‘I know her,’ he said. ‘I am with her continually; her door is ever open to me, for the Lord is the husband of the widow, and the father of the fatherless. She is in bed with her little children.’ “‘Then go,’ I replied, ‘to the blacksmith’s yonder. I see the cheerful blaze of his smithy; he works early, and late. His wife is a kind-hearted woman. They will treat you like a prince.’ “He answered solemnly, ‘_I am not come to call the righteous_, _but sinners to repentance_.’ “At that moment the door opened, and the farmer came out, cursing, and swearing, with a cudgel in his hand, with which he smote him, and then angrily shut the door in his face. This excited a fierce anger in me. I was full of indignation to think that a Welshman should treat a stranger in that fashion. I was ready to burst into the house, and maltreat him in his turn. But the patient stranger laid his hand upon my arm, and said, ‘Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.’ “‘Sir,’ I exclaimed, ‘your patience, and your long-suffering are wonderful; they are beyond my comprehension.’ “‘The Lord is long-suffering, full of compassion, slow to anger, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.’ And again he knocked, as he answered me. “It was dark; the smithy was closed; they were shutting up the inn, and I made haste to get shelter for the night, wondering more, and more at the patience, and pity of the man. In the public-house I learned from the landlord the character of the farmer, and, late as it was, I went back to the patient stranger and said, ‘Sir, come away; he is not worth all this trouble. He is a hard, cruel, wicked man. He has robbed the fatherless, he has defamed his friend, he has built his house in iniquity. Come away, sir. Make yourself comfortable with us, by the warm fireside. This man is not worth saving.’ With that he spread his bleeding palms before me, and showed me his bleeding feet, and his side which they had pierced; and I beheld it was the Lord Jesus. “‘Smite him, Lord!’ I cried in my indignation; ‘then perhaps he will hear thee.’