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met him at the door.
He was a stranger to me. As I took his hand he said, ‘My name is Polk,’ and could say no more.
Perceiving that some great trouble was in his mind, I led him to a chair; he was still silent, as if he feared to try to speak lest he should not control his feelings.
Supposing he had gotten into trouble with the authorities of the institution, I asked him to trust me as a friend, and freely tell me all his burden; then he could contain himself no longer, but with a burst of feeling and intense expression of a mind convinced of sin, and literally and earnestly begging to be told what he must do for salvation.
I will not take space to relate the particulars of that part of the conversation.
I was amazed at the depth and power of his convictions and anxieties, and his readiness for whatever might be required of him as a servant of Christ.
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