“Love the law of life,” he muttered. “What jargon is this? I am dying because my body is old and worn out and won’t work or even exist much longer.”

In spite of himself he groaned in agony as he spoke, and then started up in bed, shaking with fear.

“Oh no,” said Grace and Glory, laying her hand on his, and some influence of peace seemed to quiet for a few moments his pangs of dread. “Oh no, your body is not the part which really dreads the dying. It is yourself, the tenant of the body, which is so fearful and afraid. You yourself, who must exist when your body no longer forms a temporary home for you, or a means for your self-expression and for contact with this familiar and material world.”

He shivered from head to foot, then muttered, “I will not listen to any more fantastic fairy tales about the Shepherd.”

“You will have to meet him some time, you know,” said Grace and Glory gently.

“Never!” cried the old man with a sudden burst of energy. “Never! That so-called Shepherd who I have disdained all my life!”

“I mean after death,” said Grace and Glory. “You can evade him here in the Valley all your lifetime, but not after death. He is the Judge, you know.”

“Judge!” cried the old man between a shriek and a groan. “What judge?”

“The judge of your whole life—of how you have lived and how you have used this body which was lent you, and the things you possessed here on earth. He will judge as to whether you have obeyed the law of love.”

“How will the Shepherd know about that?” sneered the old man. “We have never met. He knows nothing about me. Will he judge from hearsay?” and at that another look of terror spread over his face, as he thought of the things which might be said about him by so many others.