And perhaps, as she now contended, if only some powerful and righteous emissary of God would visit Clyde and through the force of his faith and God’s word make him see — which she was sure he did not yet, and which she in her troubled state, and because she was his mother, could not make him — the blackness and terror of his sin with Roberta as it related to his immortal soul here and hereafter — then in gratitude to, reverence and faith in God, would be washed away, all his iniquity, would it not?
For irrespective of whether he had committed the crime now charged against him or not — and she was convinced that he had not — was he not, nevertheless, in the shadow of the electric chair — in danger at any time through death (even before a decision should be reached) of being called before his maker — and with the deadly sin of adultery, to say nothing of all his lies and false conduct, not only in connection with Roberta but that other girl there in Lycurgus, upon him?
And by conversion and contrition should he not be purged of this?
If only his soul were saved — she and he too would be at peace in this world.
And after a first and later a second pleading letter from Mrs. Griffiths, in which, after she had arrived at Denver, she set forth Clyde’s loneliness and need of counsel and aid, the Rev. Duncan setting forth for Auburn.
And once there — having made it clear to the warden what his true purpose was — the spiritual salvation of Clyde’s soul, for his own, as well as his mother and God’s sake, he was at once admitted to the death house and to Clyde’s presence — the very door of his cell, where he paused and looked through, observing Clyde lying most wretchedly on his cot trying to read.
And then McMillan outlining his tall, thin figure against the bars and without introduction of any kind, beginning, his head bowed in prayer:
“Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Thy loving-kindness; according unto the multitude of Thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions.”
“Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.”
“For I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.”
“Against Thee, Thee only have I sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight, that Thou mightest be justified when Thou speakest and be clear when Thou judgest.”
“Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me.”
“Behold, Thou desireth truth in the inward parts; and in the hidden part Thou shalt make me to know wisdom.”
“Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.”
“Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which Thou hast broken may rejoice.”
“Hide Thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.”
“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.”
“Cast me not away from Thy presence; and take not Thy holy spirit away from me.”
“Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation, and uphold me with Thy free spirit.”
“Then will I teach transgressors Thy ways; and sinners will be converted unto Thee.”
“Deliver me from blood guiltiness, O God, thou God of my salvation, and my tongue shall sing aloud of Thy righteousness.”
“O Lord, open Thou my lips; and my mouth shall show forth Thy praise.”
“For Thou desirest not sacrifice; else would I give it; Thou delightest not in burnt offering.”
“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and a contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise.”
He paused — but only after he had intoned, and in a most sonorous and really beautiful voice the entire 51st Psalm.
And then looking up, because Clyde, much astonished, had first sat up and then risen — and curiously enticed by the clean and youthful and vigorous if pale figure had approached nearer the cell door, he now added:
“I bring you, Clyde, the mercy and the salvation of your God.
He has called on me and I have come.
He has sent me that I may say unto you though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white — like snow.
Though they be red, like crimson, they shall be as wool.
Come now, let us reason together with the Lord.”
He paused and stared at Clyde tenderly.
A warm, youthful, half smile, half romantic, played about his lips.
He liked the youth and refinement of Clyde, who, on his part was plainly taken by this exceptional figure.
Another religionist, of course.
But the Protestant chaplain who was here was nothing like this man — neither so arresting nor attractive.
“Duncan McMillan is my name,” he said, “and I come from the work of the Lord in Syracuse.
He has sent me — just as he sent your mother to me.
She has told me all that she believes.
I have read all that you have said.
And I know why you are here.
But it is to bring you spiritual joy and gladness that I am here.”
And he suddenly quoted from Psalms 13:2, “‘How shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart, daily.’
That is from Psalms 13:2.
And here is another thing that now comes to me as something that I should say to you.
It is from the Bible, too — the Tenth Psalm:
‘He hath said in his heart, I shall not be moved, for I shall never be in adversity.’
But you are in adversity, you see.
We all are, who live in sin.
And here is another thing that comes to me, just now to say. It is from Psalm 10:11: