“Brother,” he said, turning to the sexton, “what is to hinder your baptism and partaking of the communion?  Yes, this is Christ’s Church wherever His true disciples are.”

Then the sexton brought a basin of water; and as he kneeled down by the side of the bed, Philip baptized him with the words:  “I baptize thee, Henry, my brother, disciple of Jesus, into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost!  Amen.”

“Amen,” murmured the man on the bed.

Then Philip, still standing as he was, bowed his head, saying:  “Blessed Lord Jesus, accept these children of Thine, bless this new disciple, and unite our hearts in love for Thee and Thy kingdom as we remember Thee now in this service.”

He took the bread and said:  “’Take, eat.  This is my body, broken for you.’  In the name of the Master who said these words, eat, remembering His love for us.”

The dying man could not lift his hand to take the bread from the plate.  Philip gently placed a crumb between his lips.  The sexton, still kneeling, partook, and, bowing his head between his hands, sobbed.  Philip poured out the wine and said:  “In the name of the Lord Jesus, this cup is the new testament in His blood shed for all mankind for the remission of sins.”  He carried the cup to the lips of the man and then gave to the sexton.  The smile on the dying man’s face died.  The gray shadow of the last enemy was projected into the room from the setting sun of death’s approaching twilight.  The son of the old slave-master was going to meet the mother of the man who was born into the darkness of slavery, but born again into the light of God.  Perhaps, perhaps, he thought, who knows but the first news he would bring to her would be the news of that communion?  Certain it is that his hand moved vaguely over the blanket.  It slipped over the edge of the bed and fell upon the bowed head of the sexton and remained there as if in benediction.  And so the shadow deepened, and at last it was like unto nothing else known to the sons of men on earth, and the spirit leaped out of its clay tenement with the breath of the communion wine still on the lips of the frail, perishable body.

Philip reverently raised the arm and laid it on the bed.  The sexton rose, and, while the tears rolled over his face, he gazed long into the countenance of the son of his old master.  No division of race now.  No false and selfish prejudice here.  Come!  Let the neighbors of the dead come in to do the last sad offices to the casket.  For the soul of this disciple is in the mansions of glory, and it shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more, neither shall the darkness of death ever again smite it; for it shall live forever in the light of that Lamb of God who gave Himself for the remission of sins and the life everlasting.

Philip did what he could on such an occasion.  It was not an unusual event altogether; he had prayed by many a poor creature in the clutch of the last enemy, and he was familiar with his face in the tenements.  But this particular scene had a meaning and left an impression different from any he had known before.  When finally he was at liberty to go home for a little rest before the evening service, he found himself more than usually tired and sorrowful.  Mrs. Strong noticed it as he came in.  She made him lie down and urged him to give up his evening service.