"Yes," came the reply, with the calmness of light. "Christ would demand it if he were pastor of Calvary Church in this age. The church members, the Christians in this century, must renounce all that they have, or they cannot be his disciples."

Philip sat profoundly silent. The words spoken so quietly by this creature tossed upon his own soul like a vessel in a tempest. He dared not say anything for a moment. The Brother Man looked over and said at last: "What have you been preaching about since you came here?"

"A great many things."

"What are some of the things you have preached about?"

"Well," Philip clasped his hands over his knees; "I have preached about the right and wrong uses of property, the evil of the saloon, the Sunday as a day of rest and worship, the necessity of moving our church building down into this neighborhood, the need of living on a simpler basis, and, lastly, the true work of a church in these days."

"Has your church done what you have wished?"

"No," replied Philip, with a sigh.

"Will it do what you preach ought to be done?"

"I do not know."

"Why don't you resign?"

The question came with perfect simplicity, but it smote Philip almost like a blow. It was spoken with calmness that hardly rose above a whisper, but it seemed to the listener almost like a shout. The thought of giving up his work simply because his church had not yet done what he wished, or because some of his people did not like him, was the last thing a man of his nature would do. He looked again at the man and said:

"Would you resign if you were in my place?"

"No." It was so quietly spoken that Philip almost doubted if his visitor had replied. Then he said: "What has been done with the parsonage?"

"It is empty. The church is waiting to rent it to some one who expects to move to Milton soon."

"Are you sorry you came here?"

"No; I am happy in my work."

"Do you have enough to eat and wear?"

"Yes, indeed. The thousand dollars which the church refused to take off my salary goes to help where most needed; the rest is more than enough for us."

"Does your wife think so?" The question from any one else had been impertinent. From this man it was not.

"Let us call her in and ask her," replied Philip, with a smile.

"Sarah, the Brother Man wants to know if you have enough to live on."

Sarah came in and sat down. It was dark. The year was turning into the softer months of spring, and all the out-door world had been a benediction that evening if the sorrow and poverty and sin of the tenement district so near had not pervaded the very walls and atmosphere of the entire place. The minister's wife answered bravely: "Yes, we have food and clothing and life's necessaries. But, oh, Philip! this life is wearing you out. Yes, Brother Man." she continued, while a tear rolled over her cheek, "the minister is giving his life blood for these people, and they do not care. It is a vain sacrifice." She had spoken as frankly as if the old man had been her father. There was a something in him which called out such confidence.

Mr. Strong soothed his wife, clasping her to him tenderly. "There, Sarah, you are nervous and tired. I am a little discouraged, but strong and hearty for the work. Brother Man, you must not think we regret your advice. We have been blessed by following it."

And then their remarkable guest stretched out his arms through the gathering gloom in the room and seemed to bless them. Later in the evening he again called for a Bible, and offered a prayer of wondrous sweetness. He was shown to his plainly-furnished room. He looked around and smiled.

"This is like my old home," he said; "a palace, where the poor die of hunger."

Philip started at the odd remark, then recollected that the old man had once been wealthy, and sometimes in his half-dazed condition Philip thought probable he confounded the humblest surroundings with his once luxurious home. He lingered a moment, and the man said, as if speaking to himself: "If they do not renounce all they have, they cannot be my disciples."

"Good-night, Brother Man." cried Philip, as he went out.

"Good-night, Christ's man," replied his guest. And Philip went to his rest that night, great questions throbbing in him, and the demands of the Master more distinctly brought to his attention than ever.

Again, as before when he rose in the morning, he found that his visitor was gone. His eccentric movements accounted his sudden disappearances, but they were disappointed. They wanted to see their guest again and question him about his history. They promised themselves he would do so next time.

The following Sunday Philip preached one of those sermons which come to a man once or twice in a whole ministry. It was the last Sunday of the month, and not a special occasion. But there had surged into his thought the meaning of the Christian life with such uncontrollable power that his sermon reached hearts never before touched. He remained at the close of the service to talk with several young men, who seemed moved as never before. After they had gone away he went into his own room back of the platform to get something he had left there, and to his surprise found the church s.e.xton kneeling down by one of the chairs. As the minister came in the man rose and turned toward him.

"Mr. Strong, I want to be a Christian. I want to join the church and lead a different life."

Philip clasped his hand, while tears rolled over the man's face. He stayed and talked with him, and prayed with him, and when he finally went home the minister was convinced it was as strong and true a conversion as he had ever seen. He at once related the story to his wife, who had gone on before to get dinner.

"Why, Philip," she exclaimed, when he said the s.e.xton wanted to be baptized and unite with the church at the next communion, "Calvary Church will never allow him to unite with us!"

"Why not?" asked Philip, in amazement.

"Because he is a negro," replied his wife.

Philip stood a moment in silence with his hat in his hand, looking at his wife as she spoke.

CHAPTER XV.

"Well," said Philip, slowly, as he seemed to grasp the meaning of his wife's words, "to tell the truth, I never thought of that!" He sat down and looked troubled. "Do you think, Sarah, that because he is a negro the church will refuse to receive him to membership? It would not be Christian to refuse him."

"There are other things that are Christian which the Church of Christ on earth does not do, Philip,["] replied his wife, almost bitterly. "But whatever else Calvary Church may do or not do, I am very certain it will never consent to admit to membership a black man."

"But here[sic] are so few negroes in Milton that they have no church. I cannot counsel him to unite with his own people. Calvary Church must admit him!" Philip spoke with the quiet determination which always marked his convictions when they were settled.

"But suppose the committee refuses to report his name favorably to the church--what then?" Mrs. Strong spoke with a gleam of hope in her heart that Philip would be roused to indignation that he would resign and leave Milton.

Philip did not reply at once. He was having an inward struggle with his sensitiveness and his interpretation of his Christ. At last he said:

"I don't know, Sarah. I shall do what I think He would. What I shall do afterward will also depend on what Christ would do. I cannot decide it yet. I have great faith in the Church on earth."

"And yet what has it done for you so far, Philip? The business men still own and rent the saloons and gambling houses. The money spent by the church is all out of proportion to its wealth. Here you give away half your salary to build up the kingdom of G.o.d, and more than a dozen men in Calvary who are worth fifty and a hundred thousand dollars give less than a hundredth part of their income to Christian work in connection with the church. It makes my blood boil, Philip, to see how you are throwing your life away in these miserable tenements, and wasting your appeals on a church that plainly does not intend to do, does not want to do, as Christ would have it. And I don't believe it ever will."

"I'm not so sure of that, Sarah," replied Philip, cheerfully. "I believe I shall win them yet. The only thing that sometimes troubles me is, Am I doing just as Christ would do? Am I saying what He would say in this age of the world? There is one thing of which I am certain--I am trying to do just as I believe He would. The mistakes I make are those which spring from my failure to interpret His action right. And yet I do feel deep in me that if He was pastor of this church to-day, He would do most of the things I have done; He would preach most of the truths I have proclaimed. Don't you think so, Sarah?"

"I don't know, Philip. Yes, I think in most things you have made an honest attempt to interpret Him."

"And in the matter of the s.e.xton, Sarah, wouldn't Christ tell Calvary Church that it should admit him to its membership? Would He make any distinction of persons? If the man is a Christian, thoroughly converted, and wants to be baptized and unite with Christ's body on earth, would Christ, as pastor, refuse him admission?"

"There is a great deal of race prejudice among the people. If you press the matter, Philip, I feel sure it will meet with great opposition."