 least," I returned. "If I had my way, all the tools used in
building the church should be carved on the posts and pillars of it, to
indicate the sacredness of labour, and the worship of God that lies,
not in building the church merely, but in every honest trade honestly
pursued for the good of mankind and the need of the workman. For a
necessity of God is laid upon every workman as well as on St. Paul.
Only St. Paul saw it, and every workman doesn't, Harry."

"Thank you, sir. I like that way of it. I almost think I could be a
little bit religious after your way of it, sir."

"Almost, Harry!" growled Joe--not unkindly.

"Now, you hold your tongue, Joe," I said. "Leave Harry to me. You may
take him, if you like, after I've done with him."

Laughing merrily, but making no other reply than a hearty good-night,
Harry strode away out of the church, and Joe and I went home together.

When he had had his tea, I asked him to go out with me for a walk.

The sun was shining aslant upon the downs from over the sea. We rose
out of the shadowy hollow to the sunlit brow. I was a little in advance
of Joe. Happening to turn, I saw the light full on his head and face,
while the rest of his body had not yet emerged from the shadow.

"Stop, Joe," I said. "I want to see you so for a moment."

He stood--a little surprised.

"You look just like a man rising from the dead, Joe," I said.

"I don't know what you mean, sir," he returned.

"I will describe yourself to you. Your head and face are full of
sunlight, the rest of your body is still buried in the shadow. Look; I
will stand where you are now; and you come here. You will soon see what
I mean."

We changed places. Joe stared for a moment. Then his face brightened.

"I see what you mean, sir," he said. "I fancy you don't mean the
resurrection of the body, but the resurrection of righteousness."

"I do, Joe. Did it ever strike you that the whole history of the
Christian life is a series of such resurrections? Every time a man
bethinks himself that he is not walking in the light, that