Chapter VII: Almost Persuaded

“Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Almost thou persuades me to be a
Christian.”

Somebody was singing,—a rich, clear, tenor voice. Will could hear every word distinctly:—

“‘Almost persuaded’ now to believe,
‘Almost persuaded’ Christ to receive.
Seems now some soul to say,
‘Go, Spirit, go thy way,
Some more convenient day
On thee I’ll call.’

“‘Almost persuaded,’ come, come to-day,
‘Almost persuaded,’ turn not away.
Jesus invites you here,
Angels are ling’ring near,
Prayers rise from hearts so dear.
O wand’rer, come!

“‘Almost persuaded,’ harvest is past,
‘Almost persuaded,’ doom comes at last.
‘Almost’ cannot avail,
‘Almost’ is but to fail.
Sad, sad that bitter wail—
‘Almost, but lost.’”

“It must be somebody from those tents around the Point,” thought Will, turning over; “but what do they sing such doleful words for? I wish Dick would wake up, or else that I could go to sleep. That water makes me nervous,—such a steady swash, like a great sob somehow, or as if—”

Will buried his ears in his blanket and began counting backwards, to shut out the “sad, bitter wail” softly echoed by the waves as they chased each other over the moon-lighted beach.