Abridged from Only a Servant, by Kristina Roy

“The Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister.”* (Matthew 20:28; Mark 10:45)

Only a Servant

Part One

The New Servant

Just when farmer Ondrasik needed help most and had no idea where to find someone, there came to his house a man, uninvited and unexpected.

It was on a Sunday evening in the middle of the harvest. Ondrasik sat under the fruit tree in front of the house, resting his head, heavy with care, in the palms of his hands. Suddenly, in the yard the dog, Fidel, began barking, and before the careworn husbandman stood a young, healthy man, decently clothed. After an exchange of greeting, he said that he was looking for work.

Ondrasik was not one of those who would take just anyone at once to work for him; but this young man somehow appealed to him, and he needed a laborer urgently. His wife was sick in bed. His sons-in-law had left him—one last year, the other in the spring—to go to America, and their wives followed them; thus only the youngest daughter, about sixteen years old, remained with him at home. He had a cow boy, Andrew, but he had been badly beaten up in a fight with some other fellows, and was lying ill at his mother’s home, and a laborer was nowhere to be found. Therefore Ondrasik accepted this young fellow. “Anyway,” he thought, “it will not cost me anything to try him; I will take him at least until Andrew gets well.” The daily pay that he was to get during the threshing season was agreed upon.

Ondrasik slept better that night than he had for a long time; and his wife, though she could not sleep, at least did not have to worry about how her husband would manage with all the work.

The Ondrasiks were quite satisfied with the new laborer, except for his curious name. He was called Methodius Ruzansky. It was the name of the former apostle to the Slovaks, who used to live in Nitra, where he preached the Word of God to the people. The farmers did not usually give their sons such names. Occasionally one of the Catholics did, but Ondrasik was an Evangelical.

But people will get used to most anything. The general consensus among the people was: “Ondrasik got hold of a good laborer!”

And how good a one, Ondrasik knew better than anyone else. This one did not drink; therefore, he would not be fighting with the other fellows. He did not smoke; therefore, there was no danger of setting fire to the barn. During the week he worked from morning till night, while Sundays he spent reading. He did not use bad language and was always good humored. When Dorka, the daughter, spoiled some food and her father was angry, he excused her and praised it.

All this pleased the Ondrasiks very much, and therefore, they arranged with him to take him as a full-time servant, starting in November.

“Very well,” agreed Methodius, “I will stay with you and serve you, if you will take me for a term of two years, and permit me to fix myself a room above the workshop.” The farmer wondered what kind of a living room that would be.

“You will agree with me that it will be good. And whatever I shall spend on it, if it pleases you, and you can make use of it, when I shall leave you can repay me my cost. If it does not suit you, I shall take it apart and sell the materials.”

Ondrasik agreed readily, and as soon as the rainy days came, Methodius brought in some boards and spent only two days, besides doing the regular chores, to build up his room. When it was finished, he brought in the farmer and his daughter to see it. Ondrasik laughed.

“Just look what a fine room he will have, better than ours! And how will you manage in the wintertime?”

“I can sleep just as well in a cold room, and during the day you will surely allow me to warm myself.”

From the remaining boards Methodius made himself a small table, a cupboard in the corner, and a clothes closet. The bed and chair he bought ready made. The room was surprisingly cozy; especially when later he built in dormer windows, which gave him a beautiful view of the fields and meadows round about, the woods beyond, and the sometimes beautiful sky, now often obscured with the fog and clouds of the fall.

The Petrash family were the nearest neighbors to the Ondrasiks. They had a son twenty years old, a good looking and decent young man, but he was lame. Therefore, though they were a fairly well-to-do family, he could neither read nor write. He moved slowly about the house, attending here and there to a little matter, but was not able to go farther about.

Mrs. Petrash loved her Sammy above all her children. His father was not very good to him; he was displeased that such a big son was of no use in the house and that he would always be a burden.

If it had not been for the mother’s love, the young fellow would have fared rather badly in his parental home. A dreary future lay before him. And, as usual, in such a case, those who are not able to move freely want to achieve great things in this world. Thus he also had great plans.

One Sunday afternoon, as he was sitting all alone, lost in thought, his head resting on the palms of his hands, suddenly the servant of his neighbor stopped before him, holding some kind of a book.

A mingled feeling of sadness and jealousy gripped the young fellow. “He is only a servant and knows how to read, and I am so ignorant.” He barely responded to the friendly greeting.

“Since you are sitting here all alone, surely the time must be very long for you,” spoke Methodius. “Therefore, I brought you a book.”

Sammy blushed deeply. “What good is a book to me, not knowing a single letter?” he frowned.

“Forgive me, I did not know,” kindly answered the servant. “It being thus, if you please, I will stay with you and we shall read together.”

Thus began the acquaintance of the new neighbors.

Leaning on the fence of the Petrash property was the hut of the Jew, David. Now he lived there all alone. He had two goats and spent the whole day taking care of them; and when he had no work with the goats, he was sorting old rags and bones and whatever else the housewives brought to him. He traded them for threads and needles. In his younger days he followed this business in all the surrounding territory, but now went only as far as was necessary for the care of the goats.

No one remembers ever having seen old David smile; otherwise, he was a kind, gentle man. Many were the wrongs he had to suffer, but he bore them all quietly.

It was commonly known that he had a wife in his youth, before he came to the village Hradova, and that somebody took her away from him. Who knows whether it was true or not?

The neighbor on the upper side of the Ondrasik property was a shoemaker, by the name of Martin Podhajsky. This neighbor caused a great deal of annoyance, because he was such a drunkard, that everybody preferred to keep out of his way. Only his mother lived with him; his wife, when she could stand it no longer, preferred to work as a servant for strangers and was sending clothing and shoes for the children, because otherwise they would have to freeze in winter. She also sent something to her mother-in-law for taking care of the children, and in the beginning, also some shirts to her husband at times. Since he wasted all, she was disgusted and stopped sending them.

Methodius once found him lying in a mud puddle dead drunk, just about to suffocate. His mouth, nose and ears were full of mud, and it was a hard job to pull him out. Just then a Gypsy passed by, and Methodius asked him to help.

They carried the wretched drunkard into the workshop of Ondrasik and laid him on the straw. Methodius warmed some water and washed him thoroughly—excuse the comparison—like a pig when it is already in the trough. In the beginning the drunkard tried to resist, but by and by he sobered up and stopped cursing; and when Methodius also cut his hair, shaved him, and cut his long fingernails, he appreciated it.

From that time on, the servant of Ondrasik had a great influence over the unfortunate drunkard and could do with him what he wanted. He gave him an order for a pair of shoes, and Podhajsky had to promise that he would not drink before he finished that pair of shoes, and he kept his promise. To help him pass the long evenings, Methodius visited him and read to him from the books of his mother, the Bible and the song book, and out of newspapers which he brought with him. Since it was now November, the farmers did not have much to do in the evenings. Thus Methodius read out of these newspapers at home, to the landlady, “Gazdina,” and her daughter. Even Andrew loved to listen. Ondrasik was very glad that his servant took a newspaper. It was a very good newspaper; it gave lessons about the Scriptures, as well as information about things happening in the world.

One evening just as they were reading, Podhajsky brought the boots. He was not drunk. They invited him to sit down. Since that time Methodius did not go to Podhajsky to read, but he came to the Ondrasik’s, and they were all benefited by it. In the twilight before supper, Methodius used to go to the neighbor, Petrash. It soon was known among the women that he was teaching Sammy to read. Once he asked if he could bring Sammy to their house.

“And why could you not?” agreed the landlady. “The time will pass better for the poor fellow.”

In this manner, during the long winter evenings, the time passed very beautifully. They stripped a lot of feathers for featherbeds. Andrew, the cow boy, did not run around with the other fellows any more; Ondrasik also stopped going to the dram shop, and instead whittled wooden implements, and taught Sammy also.

Once, while they were thus sitting, Dorka mentioned that old David was ill and that it must be cold in his hut. Who knew if he had anything with which to make a fire? That evening Methodius just finished reading a book, told them “good night,” and went away.

“Just watch and see—he will go to that Jew,” said Andrew.

“He is a strange kind of a fellow. Nobody is too repulsive for him to help,” sighed Podhajsky, who was also present.

Thus the spring came before the people realized it.

One Sunday Ondrasik and his servant were standing at the end of the orchard. In front of them lay swamp and beyond that a hill, sparsely overgrown with grass and a few bushes.

“Listen, boss,” said Methodius, “this is a disgrace to your whole prosperity. Why don’t you buy this hill from the community?”

“I? What good would it be to me?” The farmer wondered that his sensible servant could think and say something like that.

“Well, that hill could be leveled. Out of the clay you could make good bricks and with the balance fill in this swamp.”

“I don’t need any bricks and I also have sufficient land. What would I do with that hillock?”

“I’ll tell you what to do: you buy it for me, but in your name, and I will then buy it from you. I like it very much here. I have a few hundred dollars in cash, and in the two years I will gradually build me a hut and will be your neighbor.”

Ondrasik smiled at what he thought was a joke. But it was no joke; Methodius gave him no peace until his master was favorably inclined. Thus Ondrasik bought and sold to his servant the hillock and the swamp. They made an agreement—as long as there would not be much hard work, he could use three hours, and when the work started he could use two hours a day to work his own land.

Well, when the planting was finished, Methodius said, “Listen, master, for two or three weeks, we shall not have much work to do: let Andrew and me work these weeks on my property, and I will work for you only a quarter of a year only for my food. Will you agree to that?”

“Well, I don’t care; I will even help you myself, because I would like to see just what you will achieve. But if you have some ready money, you should buy a hut for yourself somewhere.”

“But that would be only a hut, and I shall have a house!” laughed the young fellow. “You will see that my God, in whom I trust, will help me.”

Even the neighbors used to come to see what Ondrasik’s servant was doing. He hired Podhajsky and his mother. Besides these, he and Andrew, and off and on, Dorka, and even the master himself, helped to dig on the hillock and fill in the swamp. They dug down so much soil that the swamp was not only filled, but even raised above the level of the road and leveled off like a garden.

Methodius bought some dwarf fruit trees in a nursery and planted three nice rows, and to the wonder of all, when the summer came, it was seen that all took root. Afterwards they began to make bricks, and when the urgent work called the others away, Podhajsky stayed and continued until the time of harvest.

“Who could have told that Ondrasik’s servant would give us such an opportunity to earn something!” said Mother Podhajsky, blessing the young fellow and saying, “God Himself sent him to us. Martin does not drink any more. It seems as if he is not the same old fellow—he is so quiet. He regrets his evil life and prays God to forgive his sins.”

How the Swallows Returned Home

It was a beautiful summer Sunday afternoon; many took the opportunity to walk in the fields to view the future harvest. Farmer Petrash was also among those who were getting ready to go out. Methodius entered just as he was putting on his coat.

Petrash was not indifferent, although he preferred to appear that way, to the fact that the servant of his neighbor showed so much kindness to his son, for during the winter he had taught him to read and write fairly well. He was a proud farmer, and was sorely displeased that his son must remain so ignorant: therefore the visit of Methodius was very pleasing to him. He knew that the visit was intended for his son, but he wanted to have a talk with him also. He offered him a seat and seated himself.

“Sammy will come presently,” he said to excuse his son’s absence. “He went out somewhere and you know it takes him a long time before he returns.”

“It is better anyway,” smiled the young man. “It pleased me very much to find you alone, neighbor, and to see that he is not here. Let us have a consultation together about something that has been on my heart for a long time.”

The farmer wondered what kind of a consultation the young fellow might want to have with him.

“Well then, what do you want?”

“Have you considered what will become of your only son in the future?”

The man, surprised, shrugged his shoulders. “A beggar!” he exclaimed dryly. “Can I help that? Well, I shall leave him his portion, but what will he do with that? He will never become a farmer.”

“That is what I think myself. I have heard also that you want to take a son-in-law into the house. As long as Sammy has his mother and you, his life will be endurable, but after that, when you shall be gone, he will be left to the good and bad graces of the others, and they may not treat him well. And he is your firstborn son, your only son.

“Why do you tell me that?” The farmer leaned his head in the palms of both hands. “Do you think it does not torment me whenever I look at him? What is he in this world for, anyhow?”

“He did not ask to come into the world!” seriously answered the young man. “You, neighbor, as a father have the least right to speak thus. Since God gave him life, He surely has also some kind of work for him on this earth. But you also gave it to him; therefore it is your duty to help him do some work.”

“For you it is easy to talk since you are healthy; but what shall I do with him?”

“If you want to do something for your son, I would like to give some advice.”

“Gladly; just tell me.” The man gripped the hand of the young fellow in his own.

“You live here on the highway. All the people from the surrounding territory pass by. Build an addition on yonder room for him and let him start a small store. He can sell fat, flour, and the like. You go often to the city, anyway: thus you can easily bring for him what he may need. Investing a few hundred dollars in this business, you will secure a future for your son. As long as you live, you can give him a home. In the meantime, he will grow to be a man. Being a comely lad and not otherwise sickly, some decent girl will gladly take him when she knows that he will be able to support her.

“By the help of God I have already taught him to read,” continued the young man, while the farmer, shaking his head, was looking on, all surprised. “I have already spoken to old David concerning him: he is willing to teach him how to keep accounts and to sell, and you know that nobody can match a Jew in business. Consider this proposition; Sammy is returning, and I would not like to have him know what we talked about until you can decide. In the meantime, I shall take him into the woods for a walk.”

Before the farmer realized it, he was alone in the room. Through the window he saw how Methodius put his arm around Sammy, and in animated conversation, took him through the orchard until they disappeared from sight.

The farmer hunted up his wife and asked her to go with him to the fields. That day they saw very little of the crops. They consulted regarding the proposition from all angles, and she fairly grew young in the hope that here was still a chance that her darling might get on in the world after all.

In the meantime those two, concerning whom they consulted, sat in the nearby oak grove, surrounded by a group of children, and Methodius kept their attention in a lively discourse.

Methodius, the servant of Ondrasik, was known by all the children in the village. As the saying goes, the children and dogs soon find out who is their friend and follow him. They followed him everywhere like puppies, through the village or through the fields. You could always hear the call, “Uncle Method! Uncle Method!”

The children had a royal time when, like today, they could gather around him, sit at his feet, and listen. It seemed to the children that no one else in the world could tell such stories as Uncle Method could. That was the common consensus among them.

One of the boys had found a dead swallow. “If you like, I will tell you something about swallows,” said Uncle Method, and the children cried with joy, “Yes, yes, about swallows!”

“Listen, then, how the swallows returned home.

“Far, far away, where at Christmas time the trees bloom and the fruits ripen, where there is so much that is beautiful, and such flowers as we do not dream of—but also so many snakes, that horror grips a man. There, in far away Africa, the swallows had a great gathering and council.

“And it was a beautiful gathering. All the swallows had previously washed in the dew and brushed up their coats like velvet, black eyes, rosy little vests, white breasts and skirts with a long train—like some great ladies.

“They flew together to this gathering from far and wide, by the hundreds, yes, by the thousands. As soon as they were all there, the meeting opened. They began with song and prayer. Whoever will not believe that the swallows pray, just let him ask them, and let him look it up in the Word of God. I know for sure that they pray and obey their maker, God.

“Well then, they began with song and prayer. Thereupon, when all were quiet, they were told that since it was time to leave Africa and return to their old home, they would now have a consultation as to what day and hour the expedition should start, and that exact laws and directions would be given about how they should behave on the way.

“First of all, with one accord, the swallows selected elders and managers from among all, and then they were quiet again to listen to them.

“ ‘Tomorrow, when people say it is the first of the month, all of you must come to the yearly place of gathering. All who are late, must stay in Africa.

“ ‘First we shall fly over beautiful landscapes till we come to the great water—that water is called The Sea. Let all keep exactly the place assigned to them, because all that will not keep together, will not be safe from birds of prey. Those robbers are afraid of thousands of swallows, but one or two are easily scooped up.

“ ‘While we are still flying over the beautiful countries, you must obediently watch every command and rest often and long together. And if there are ever so many flies all around you, you must not overeat, so that you will not get too fat, because then you would be too heavy.

“ ‘At the seashore we shall have another convention—there we shall commend ourselves into the hands of God, because there will begin the dangerous trip for us. For a long time you will see around you only water—nothing but water—and you must not stop flying, because there will be no place to sit down.

“ ‘It is all thus arranged by our Maker; therefore, only those swallows will succeed in flying over the sea that will best obey the laws given us by God and pray most. Let us pray now also.’

“Well, then they prayed, sang, and the gathering ended.

“On the following day it was just black, because of all the swallows on the shores of a great and beautiful river. First came hundreds, then thousands, then five thousand, then ten thousand, then a hundred thousand, and then there were so many, that no man could count them. It looked like some army camp. Among these crowds flew gray swallows, keeping order—they were named the leaders. There were also white swallows, so white and clean, that it seemed as if no earthly dust came upon them. They flew among the divided groups and admonished them to pray and obey the Holy Creator, the living God.

“Because among the swallows there are boys and girls also, the boys played with each other, measuring their wings to see who had the longest and would be able to fly farthest. They calculated that to fly over the sea is nothing; they had no idea of the extent of the sea. They got acquainted with each other and even fought together, presumably to know how to fight the robbers.

“ ‘Don’t do that,’ admonished an old gray leader, ‘It is not for us to fight; you just have to ask Him, believe, and fly. If you should fight with every bird of prey, you would never reach the goal.’

“The girls whispered among themselves about the kind of dress each had—which one had the smoothest combed head, whitest breast, and longest train of skirts.

“A white swallow flew among them and said gravely, ‘You had better think of God and the long trip ahead of you. Beauty will not keep you from perishing, and if any of you fall into the sea, she will perish with all her beauty.’

“The old swallows passing around, looked over their particular groups of boys and girls, and fixed up all, especially the boys—some were all disheveled—doing for all what was necessary. They had a prayer, a song, and then ‘Goodbye, Africa!’ sounded from thousands and thousands of throats.

“The sun was darkened by the black cloud that rose from the shore. The people stopped working and, looking at the cloud, said, ‘The swallows are returning home.’

“How beautiful was that trip over the beautiful countryside until they came to the sea. It was interesting because of the many new acquaintances which the swallows made amongst themselves. At the command of the leaders they had to rest often and long; therefore, almost none of the swallows felt tired. Finally, they came within view of the sea. Again the command to rest! Many would rather have gone ahead at once, but the leaders would not let them; they needed the rest for their wings and strengthening in united prayer.

“The leaders looked over the whole assembly. Anyone that had ever so small a scratch or some feathers damaged, or was in any way sickly was to confess it, and the assembly would wait for him until he became quite well. Some of them acknowledged it, but others did not ascribe great importance to a little scratch, thinking it would heal on the way. Others—the disobedient ones—did not refrain from just gulping and gulping up the many flies that were buzzing around. The admonitions of the white swallows, that only those who knew how to deny themselves and control their desires would be able to fly over the ocean, they let in by one ear and out by the other. Those grew so fat, in the few days that the assembly rested by the sea, that they slumbered wherever they sat down, and when they did not slumber, they just chased after the flies again. They also slumbered during the great prayer meeting, and when they all prayed, one could not hear their voice, and even when they sang with the others, their thoughts were on the flies.

“ ‘Now then, in the name of our Creator, let us go!’ sounded through the whole assembly.

“ ‘Goodbye, Africa! Goodbye, Africa!’ sounded from thousands of throats. ‘Over the sea, over the sea, we are going home!’ and the echo sounded: ‘Home!’

“Now the boys who yonder at the river said, ‘Never mind the sea,’ began to be convinced how great the sea was—how great! For a long time they flew and nothing was to be seen but water, water—their wings were weary, their heads drooping with faintness, and their eyes looked out longingly for a place of rest: but the leaders just commanded: ‘Fly on, fly on!’

“Those that on the shore did not take care of their bruises and damaged wings, fell one after the other into that green water. If one of the healthy ones fell, the water carried her for a while, and then, with renewed strength, she arose again.

“But the disobedient ones could not rise again, and so drowned and perished.

“Those that fattened themselves on the flies began to stay behind, one after the other, first just a little, then more and more as their strength was leaving them. ‘Wait for us! Wait for us!’ they cried and begged—but in vain!

“The command of the leaders was: ‘Fly on, fly on!’ It was the command of God. For God Himself had given each obedient swallow sufficient strength in their wings needed to fly over the sea, but with each moment that strength diminished, therefore one must not drag behind.

“The poor, disobedient swallows! Yonder on the shore they did not know how to restrain their fleshly desires, and now they were too heavy for the flying and the result of their greediness was, that the weight drew them into the sea. Suddenly there came also a storm, wind and rain, hundreds and hundreds of swallows fell into the sea. But those that were obedient and knew how to pray were renewed with courage. But of the disobedient ones, not a single one rose up again; for their disobedience they died in those terrible depths. They will not see their home nests again. Never, never will they come home!

“When their plight was at its worst, they saw a ship in the distance. They lighted on it wherever they could find a place. Oh, that was joy! The sailors of the ship did not like it very much, but the passengers, especially the children, rejoiced greatly to hear their friendly twittering, and by them, sent greetings to their home countries. When one party had rested on the ship, others sat down, and then the third party; thus, they were all relieved.

“Still another storm and wind thinned out the lines of the migrating multitudes. It seemed as though the swallows said, ‘It is impossible, we shall all perish!’

“ ‘We shall not perish!’ cried the white leaders. ‘Just believe, obey, and God will strengthen us!’

“ ‘Land, land!’ cried the first thousands. The whole company rejoiced. The birds gathered their remaining strength—with the exception of those who in the last moment lost confidence in God’s sustaining grace, and thus the strength left them, and they fell and perished at the very shores of Europe. The remaining swallows all reached land safely and spread around for a long, joyful rest.

“After being rested and refreshed, they again held an assembly. They started with prayer and jubilant singing of praise to the kind Creator who had helped them so marvelously.

“Then important work and council awaited them.

“Thus far they had been flying jointly, but now the dividing up started. Each one had to announce their birthplace.

“Some were English, some French, Russian, German, Italian, Austrian, Hungarian, and among them also Bohemian and Slovak. Thus they were sorted, first according to countries, then by the districts, finally by the names of cities and villages.

“The whole assembly thanked the brave leaders; they also received the admonition, that as soon as they arrived at home, they should announce the return of the summer. With a final greeting they parted, each to his particular part of the continent. Even while flying, they were calling to each other: ‘Where are you headed?’

“ ‘To Leningrad; to Moscow.’

“ ‘And you, where are you going?’

“ ‘We are going to Prague!’

“ ‘We are heading for Vienna!’

“ ‘God be with you!’

“ ‘We are from the villages, living close to each other; we just have to fly over the hill to visit one another.’

“ ‘Well, here are the boundaries; here we must take leave one from another. Remember us; God be with you!’

“ ‘God be with you!’

“Thus the swallows came from far off Africa, across the distant sea, each to his own country, particular town and village, yes, even each one to his own particular nest. They came also to our village and to our houses. They came with great jubilation.

“We also welcomed them gladly. ‘Look, the swallows come, the summer is nigh.’

“Thus the swallows returned home,” ended Method. “And how will you reach home some day? Or do you think that you are already home—that you will live here forever?”

“We will not,” said the children thoughtfully, “since we have to die.”

“And where do we go then?”

“To heaven!” called others.

“Yes, heaven is our true home. But what do you think, will you surely go to heaven? What did those swallows do on the way?”

“They prayed; they obeyed,” said one little fellow; “and did not eat too many flies.”

“Well, thus you see, if you want to go to heaven, you also have to obey what the Lord God says, and must not do that which He has forbidden. Now, repeat the verse which I taught you.”

“ ‘The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.’* (Luke 19:10)

“Do you still remember who is this Son of man?”

“The Lord Jesus Christ!” cried the children.

“And whom did He come to seek?”

“All of us.”

“Yes, for us He came, as I told you, to die on the cross for your and my sins, and He is seeking us. Whosoever believeth on Him, follows Him, does not have to die for his sins; such a one does not need anything, but like those swallows, just to obey. Thus the Lord Jesus will lead him to His home in heaven; there will be great joy; each one will fly there to his own house, just like a swallow to his own nest.

“But now it is time you were going; your cattle are restless.”

The children scattered over the meadows to look after their animals, and the two young men remained alone in deep meditation.

“Listen, Method,” presently said Sammy, “that is just the picture of our journey to heaven, and we in this village Hradova have not even gotten started yet.”

“Do you think so—and why?” the lips of the other formed in a lovely smile.

“Well, those swallows began everything with prayer, and they got ready to go; but we live as if we were to live here forever, and we don’t start anything with prayer.”

“And why don’t you begin thus? Isn’t God good? Isn’t He worthy to be praised by you? Isn’t He almighty that you could ask Him for anything?

“It would be but the right thing to do if your whole village would come together with this intention, to give themselves to God in prayer and ask Him to take you safely over the great sea to the shores of eternal salvation. Well, since they will not do it all at once, why could not we two begin, and do it here just now?”

“Just now and right here? Perhaps that should be done in the church house!”

“We are now in a church house built by God Himself, and He is in every place. Don’t you think so?”

“That is true, but I don’t know how to pray.”

“Do you want the birdies to put you to shame? The swallows know how to tell their Creator what they need, why not you? He is like a father, a good father. Thank Him for what He has given you today; ask His forgiveness because you have not been thinking about Him, and ask Him to help you from this day to live so that you may someday go Home.”

It was quite late that evening when the two friends returned.

Sammy, deeply wrapped in thought, noticed above the gateway the nest and the beautiful birds flying to and fro; it continued to sound in his mind: “Thus the swallows came home.”

To be continued…