They Did Not
Want Me, Or Any New "Words," He Would Reply.
Turning to him now, I
said, "Rocanandiva, if you will allow me to tell 'words' to the
people you shall have the present." The priest turned on his heel and
left me.
Knowing his cupidity, I was not surprised when, later, he
came to me and said that I could tell them words, and held out his
hand for the gift.
After sun-worship next morning the king announced that I had
something new to tell them. When all were seated on the ground in
wondering silence, I began in simple language to tell "the old, old
story." My address was somewhat similar to the following: "Many moons
ago, Nandeyara, looking down from his abode, saw that all the men and
women and children in the world were bad; that is, they had done
wrong things, such as . . . Now God has a Son, and to Him He said,
Look down and see. All are doing wicked things! He looked and saw.
The Father said that for their sin they should have to die, but that
Jesus, His Son, could come down and die in their place. The Son came,
and lived on earth many moons; but was hated, and at last caught, and
large pieces of iron (like the priest's knife) were put into His
hands and feet, and He was fastened to a tree. After this a man came,
and, with a very long knife, brought the blood out of the side of
Jesus, and He died." Purposing to further explain my story, I was not
pleased when the priest stopped me, and, stepping forth, told the
people that my account was not true.
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