CHAPTER XLVII. Jo's Will
"Jo, can you say what I say?"
"I'll say anythink as you say, sir, for I knows it's good."
"Our Father! Yes, that's wery good, sir."
"Which art in heaven."
"Art in heaven—is the light a-comin, sir?"
"It is close at hand. Hallowed by thy name!"
The light is come upon the dark benighted way. Dead!Dead, your Majesty. Dead, my lords and gentlemen. Dead, right reverends and wrong reverends of every order. Dead, men and women, born with heavenly compassion in your hearts. And dying thus around us every day.