"Your father eats heartily, and sleeps as quietly as an infant," explained Mrs. Knowles, "but I feel sure he has not long to live. His daily prayer is for the grace of patience, patience to wait God's time." "I long to be there—" he said to his son, "there with my Saviour. I long to be free from this body of sin, and behold his face in righteousness." On Saturday evening Helen seated her self at his feet, and sang at his request. The words she selected were the following: "Behold the glories of the Lamb, Before his Father's throne, Prepare new honors for his name, And songs before unknown. Let elders worship at his feet, The church adore around, With vials full of odors sweet, And harps of sweeter sound." When she had commenced, the young clergyman who was to supply his pulpit entered, and quietly took a seat. Every one present noticed a peculiar expression on the countenance of the old man. It was as if he already heard the heavenly music for which he panted. When her voice ceased, he still listened as if entranced, no one daring to break the silence and call his rapt spirit back to earth. At length he seemed to become aware of the presence of those so dear to him. "Glorious vision! Glorious! Glorious!" he repeated, every feature radiant with holy light. "Jesus my Saviour, seated on his throne, receiving the adoration of the saints. Shall I ever be permitted to join them, and unite my voice with theirs in the anthems of praise? "'Who is this King of glory? The Lord of hosts, He is the King of glory.' Yes, I shall see him, for he has promised it. 'Father, I will that they . . . thou hast given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory,' . . . 'which I had with' the Father 'before the world was.'" Helen still retained his hand, and yielding to an impulse she could not control, she raised it to her lips, large drops falling upon it from her eyes. "Do not weep, my child," he exclaimed, in a loud voice. "Rejoice, rejoice that the day of my salvation is near at hand. A wretched sinner will, by God's unspeakable mercy, be converted into a blessed saint." "But we shall not see your face," she murmured. "We shall so miss the sound of your voice, your counsels and your prayers." "It will be but for a moment,—" he answered, "a moment in ages of years, an eternity of years. Your mother will very soon follow me, and when you have accomplished your work, we shall unite with thousands of choirs of angels in welcoming you home." Sybil, who had been sitting bolt-upright, disdaining to exhibit her emotion at what was so evident to all, that dying grace had been bestowed on her beloved father, rose suddenly and left the room. Presently the sound of her violent sobs was distinctly heard, and her brother hastened to her side. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXV. DEATH OF A POSSESSOR. EARLY the next morning, the young minister called to ascertain whether Mr. Knowles still wished to enter the pulpit.