He had reached the high ground with his friends. There was a sudden spur on the range of low cliffs just where the people were most numerous. They had come from all quarters to witness the wonders of this lurid eve, and, as was the case at Wesley's preaching, everyone was asking of everyone else how so large an assembly could be brought together in a neighbourhood that was certainly not densely populated. On each side of him and on the beach below there were crowds, and on every face the crimson of the sinking sun flamed. He went out to the furthest point of the cliff-spur and stood there silent, with uplifted arms. In a moment the whisper spread: “Mr. Wesley has come--Mr. Wesley is preaching!” There was the sound of many feet trampling down the pebbles of the beach. The people flowed toward him like a great wave slowly moving over that place now forsaken by the waves. The young men and maidens who had been engaged in that fierce wild dance among the wiry herbage flocked toward him, their faces shining from their exertions, and stood catching their breath. The old men who had been staring stolidly through the great ribs of the hulk, slouched through the ooze and stood sideways beneath him, their hands, like the gnarled joints of a thorn, scooped behind their ears lest they should lose a word. The women, with disordered hair, tears on their faces, the terror of anticipation in their eyes, waited on the ground, some kneeling, others seated in various postures. Then there came a deep hush. He stood there, a solitary figure, black against the crimson background of the western sky, his arms still upraised. It might have been a statue carved out of dark marble that stood on the spur of the cliff. And then he began to speak. His hands were still uplifted in the attitude of benediction; and the words that came from him were the words of the Benediction. “The Peace of God which passeth all understanding.” The Peace of God--that was the message which he delivered to that agitated multitude, and it fell upon their ears, soothing all who heard and banishing their fears. He gave them the message of the Father to His children--a message of love, of tenderness--a promise of protection, of infinite pity, of a compassion that knew no limits--outliving the life of the world, knowing no change through all ages, the only thing that suffered no change--a compassion which, being eternal, would outlive Time itself--a compassion which brought with it every blessing that man could know--nay, more--more than man could think of; a compassion that brought with it the supreme blessing that could come to man--the Peace of God which passeth all understanding! He never travelled outside this message of Divine Peace, although he spoke for a full hour.