"Perhaps so," the poor man said, and turned his head mournfully away:
"if poverty were all----"

"He does not despise the _sinner_ either," said Emma, softly; "so far
from that, he delivered his only Son unto death for their sake."

Graffam lifted his eyes from the ground, and looked seriously into her
face.

"There was a time, miss," said he, "when that was a precious thought to
me. Then to know that God was my friend, was enough, and I was happy;
but that time is passed. I parted with his friendship to gain that of
the world, and now I have lost, hopelessly lost all--all!"

This was said in a tone of deep despair: so deep and sad, that it
called tears of pity to Emma's eyes, as she earnestly replied,--

"O do not say that _his_ friendship is hopelessly lost, Mr. Graffam;
for you know, sir, that he does not hate what the world hates. He hates
nothing but sin, and even from that his great mercy separates the
sinner, and makes him an object of love. Jesus, Mr. Graffam, is the
_sinner's friend_."

"Yes, miss," replied the poor man; though Emma saw that the faith of
this great truth did not enter his heart. There was no room as yet for
so pure a faith. The soul's great idol, whatever it be,--the "man of
sin" sitting in the place of God,--must be dethroned before the Holy
will enter in. Yet Emma's words stirred still more those powers of the
soul which Graffam had felt that morning struggling franticly with
their chains. There was a strange mixture of hope and despair in the