He was not dead,
that was almost all she knew. The night was dark still, and very lonely.
There was no one who saw her, none to care for her; and her misery was
very great.
Was there none who cared? A still small voice in her own soul, long
unheard, but speaking clearly through the din of the storm around and
within her, asked, "Does not Christ care? He who came to seek and to
save that which was lost? He whom God sent into the world to be the
Captain of salvation, and to suffer being tempted, that He might be able
to succor all those who are tempted?" For a moment she listened
breathlessly as if some new thing had been said to her. Christ really
cared for her; really knew her extremity in this dire temptation; was
ready with His help, if she would but have it. Could it be true? If He
were beside her, witnessing her temptation and her struggling, seeing
and entering into all the bitterness of the passing hours, why! then
such a presence and such a sympathy were a thousand times greater and
better than if all the world beside had been by to cheer her.
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