oh so differentlyChildren

into the Sabbath-school in our little chapel, and spoke to us children about Him, oh so differentlyChildren, he said, Jesus is not dead. He is alive He loves you. and wants you to love Him He is your best Friend. and He will show you how to be good.My heart beat fast. I could hardly keep back the tears. The New Testament. then. did really mean what it said Jesus said He would come back again. and would always be with those who loved Him.He is alive He loves me He will tell me how to be good I said it over to myself. but not to anybody else. I was sure that I loved Him. It was like a beautiful secret between us two. I felt Him so alive and so near He wanted me to be good. and I could be. I would be. for his sake.That stranger never knew how his loving word had touched a childs heart. The doors of the Fathers house were opened wide again. by the only hand that holds the key. The world was all bright and fresh once more. It was as if the May sun had suddenly wakened the flowers in an overshadowed wayside nook.I tried long afterward. thinking that it was my duty. to build up a wall of difficult doctrines over my spring blossoms. as if they needed protection. But the sweet light was never wholly stifled out. though I did not always keep my face turned towards it and I know now. that just to let his lifegiving smile shine into the soul is better than any of the theories we can invent about Him and that only so can young or old receive the kingdom of God as a little child.I believe that one great reason for a childs love of hymns. such as mine was. is that they are either addressed to a Person. to the Divine Person.--or they bring Him before the mind in some distinct way. instead of being written upon a subject. like a sermon. To make Him real is the only way to make our own spirits real to ourselves.I think more gratefully now of the verses I learned from the Bible and the Hymn-Book than of almost anything that came to me in that time of beginnings. The whole Hymn-Book was not for me then. any more than the whole Bible. I took from both only what really belonged to me. To be among those who found in the true sources of faith and adoration. was like breathing in my native air. though I could not tell anything about the land from which I had come. Much that was put in the way of us children to climb by. we could only stumble over but around and above the roughnesses of the road. the pure atmosphere of worship was felt everywhere. the healthiest atmosphere for a childs soul to breathe in.I had learned a great many hymns before the family took any notice of it. When it came to the knowledge of my most motherly sister Emilie.--I like to call her that. for she was as fond of early rising as Chaucers heroine--Up rose the sun. and up rose Emilie and it is her own name. with a very slight change.--she undertook to see how many my small memory would contain. She promised me a new book. when I should have learned fifty and that when I could repeat any one of a hundred hymns. she would teach me to write. I earned the book when I was

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