The terrified villagers were still streaming across the road when
Goldmorrow came up. Nothing could exceed the pity which the spectacle
stirred in his breast. Tears streamed from his eyes. The bareness,
the poverty, the misery of the present time seemed to come into view
and gather into a point in what he saw. "Oh!" he cried to his
companions, "if Christ were only come! Only He could deal with evils
so great as these!" Then, withdrawing his thoughts into himself, and
still moved with his humane pity, he breathed this prayer to Christ:
"Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly, and lay thy healing hand on the wounds
and sorrows of the world." His companions were also touched with what
they saw. And in earnest and reverent words one of them exclaimed:
"Blessed hope! Light of the pilgrim! Star of the weary! The earth
has waited long thy absent light to see." But, by the time the words
were spoken, the villagers were behind them, and, spurring their
horses, the travelers hastened forward on their way.
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