Mrs.Franklin had gone out to do an errand, and the two were alone.
"Do you know, Mr.Willie," said Abram, putting his finger upon the titles of two successive poems, "The Waiting," and "The Summons," "I had hard work to submit to this sickness a few months ago?
I fought against it strong; do you know why ?" "Not your special reason.

What was it ?" "I had waited so long, you see,--I, and my people,--for a chance.

It made me quite wild to watch this big fight go on, and know that it was all about us, and not be allowed to participate; and at last when the chance came, and the summons, and the way was opened, I couldn't answer, nor go.

It's not the dying I care for; I'd be willing to die the first battle I was in; but I want to do something for the cause before death comes." The book was lying open where it had fallen from his hand, and Surrey, glancing down at the very poem of which he spoke, said gently, "Here is your answer, Franklin, better than any I can make; it ought to comfort you; listen, it is God's truth! 'O power to do! O baffled will! O prayer and action! ye are one; Who may not strive may yet fulfil The harder task of standing still, And good but wished with God is done!'" "It is so," said Abram.

"You act and I pray, and you act for me and mine.