100

There was purity in his darkness, a clarity underscored by the serene weight of permanence. There were moments of relief, as if it had all happened—all of it, from the moment he first stepped onto that damp field, to the day he first turned the key in the door of that ramshackle row house in Kensington, to the stinking breath of Joseph Barber as he bid good-bye to this mortal coil—to lead him to this black, seamless world.

But darkness was not darkness to the Lord.

Every morning they came to his cell and led Roland Hannah to the small chapel, where he would hold service. At first he did not want to leave his cell. But soon he realized that this was just a diversion, a stopover on his road to salvation and glory.

He would be in this place the rest of his life. There had been no trial. They had asked Roland what he had done, and he had told them. He would not lie.

But the Lord came here too. In fact, the Lord was here this very day. And in this place were many sinners, many men in need of correction.

Pastor Roland Hannah would deal with them all.