The day long he had been sick with remorse,
an' I had given him, betimes, a word o' comfort as well as the
medicine. Now when I looked the frown had left his brow. Oh,
'twas a goodly sight to see! He smiled an' murmured o' the days
gone. The man o' guilt lay dead--the child of innocence was
living. An' he woke, an' again the shadow fell upon him, an' he
wept.
"'I have been wandering in the land o' love,' he said.
"'Get thee back, man, get thee back,' said I to him.
"'Alas! how can I?' said he; 'for 'tis only Sleep that opens the
door.'
"'Nay, Sleep doth lift the garment o' thy bitterness, but only for
an hour,' said I. 'Love, Love shall lift it from thee forever.'
An' now, I thank the good God, the smile o' that brief hour is ever
on his face. Ye know him well, men. Were I to bid him stand
before ye, there's many here would wish to kiss his hand. Even
here in the frowning shadow o' these walls he has come into a land
o' love, an' when he returns to his people ye shall weep, men, ye
shall weep, an' they shall rejoice. O the land o' love! it hath a
strong gate. An' the White Guard, he hath the key.
"Remember, men, ye cannot reap unless ye sow. If any would reap
the corn, he must plant the corn.
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