In a lonely cottage on a moor in England, a poor cowherder lay dying — alone, but for his granddaughter. As he was dying, he asked the child to bring the old family Bible.
Again and again she read, “The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleasenth us from all sin.” He stopped her. “Is there such a verse as that there?”
“Yes, grandfather.”
“Then, if that is true, there’s hope for me! Tell my friends I die in the faith of that verse.”
ML 08/13/1961