Friday, February 15, 2008

The dread soul-crisis was past

"The atheistic taunts of his cruel master sunk his before-dejected soul to the lowest ebb; and though the hand of faith still held to the eternal rock, it was a numb, despairing grasp. Tom sat, like one stunned, at the fire. Suddenly everything around him seemed to fade, and a vision rose before him of one crowned with thorns, buffeted and bleeding. Tom gazed in awe and wonder at the majestic patience of the face; the deep, pathetic eyes thrilled him to his inmost heart; his soul awoke as, with floods of emotion, he stretched out his hands and fell upon his knees -- when, gradually, the vision changed; the sharp thorns became rays of glory; and in splendor inconceivable he saw that same face bending compassionately towards him, and a voice said, 'He that overcometh shall sit down with me on my throne, even as I also overcome and am set down with my Father on his throne.'

How long Tom lay there, he knew not. When he came to himself, the fire was gone out, his clothes were wet with the chill and drenching dews; but the dread soul-crisis was past, and in the joy that filled him he no longer felt hunger, cold, degradation, disappointment, wretchedness. From his deepest soul, he that hour loosed and parted from every hope in life that now is, and offered his own will an unquestioning sacrifice to the Infinite."

Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin, or, Life Among The Lowly, pages 554-555.