"Listen, John. 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'" Then she closed the book. "Greater love hath no man than this," he repeated. She took up the words, "'that a man lay down his life for his friends.'" "He--gave--his--life--for--us!" John Harding spoke slowly. The great truth that has comforted the human heart for ages had at last reached his dormant soul. The eagle eye seemed looking inward; the iron jaw set; the strong hand clinched. In this deep inward look, the man seemed to have forgotten the presence of the teacher. At last into the hard face flashed a comprehending light, and he spoke. "I would give my life for you." "I believe you would," she said, never doubting. "Just so Jesus gave his life for all mankind." He looked up. "I begin to understand." "He taught men how to live," explained the teacher. "He taught that great and worthy love means sacrifice, and that all who would truly love and serve their fellow men must cease to think about self, and must get about doing kind, helpful things for other people." "I have never known the meaning of love or sacrifice," he said. "I don't know no more about them things than I do about God. But tell me about Jesus. What happened after they had crucified him?" He listened with intense interest as she told the story. "I want ter know more," he said. "I never knowed sech things was in the Bible. Ef I'd knowed it when I was a kid, I'd a lived a differ'nt life. I s'pose it's too late now." "No; not too late." Her voice was low and gentle. "I don't know how ter begin," he said helplessly. "Tell me how." "One way is to feel deeply sorry for anything wrong in one's past; to repent of wrong thoughts, wrong words, wrong deeds." "But, schoolma'am, my wrong deeds has been so many," and he bowed his head on his arms on the desk before him. "Not so many--" her voice was comforting--"but God will forgive them, if you are truly sorry. Pray every day, pray many times a day, that God will not only forgive you, but help you become a better man." He raised his head. "I don't know how ter pray. I'm afraid ter pray. Do you know," he said desperately, "I've committed about every crime but murder?" Again he bowed his head on his arms. His frame shook with sobs. The calm, well-poised girl had never before seen such a stirring of the deeps. A strong man in tears is not an easy thing to witness. "Will yer pray fur me?" he said at length; but he did not lift his head. Then upon his ears fell the comforting voice of the teacher. It was the first time in all his life anyone had prayed for him. Something choked him. At last he looked up into her eyes. "Learn me ter pray," he said huskily. "Say this, John, _now_: 'Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me.'" He repeated, "'Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me!'" It was the first prayer John Harding had ever prayed. He rose to go. "I wisht--." He hesitated. "What do you wish?"