And as you speed on your way, my child, it will make your steps lighter and your path brighter if you offer up ‘psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart,’ though the Master alone may hear. It has been well said that hymns are as wings to the soul.”
“It was very wrong in forgetting to pray for help,” said Alicia; “but was I so very wrong in not exposing myself to danger? You have spoken to me yourself about the duty of taking care of the bodily frames which God has given us.”
“As regards not sacrificing health to gratify self-will,” was Mr. Hartley’s reply; “but to serve God faithfully a missionary must encounter some risks.”
“Even that of being gored?” said Alicia.
Mr. Hartley could not repress a gentle smile. “The chance of being gored is so very, very small,” he observed, “that it may fearlessly be encountered. In all my thirty years’ experience I never knew of one European being gored, and scarcely more than four—no, five—that have even been run at by buffalo or bull.”
“I might be a sixth,” observed Alicia. “What protection have I against such an accident, going about, as I must sometimes go, all alone, in a country that seems to swarm with horned cattle?”
“I think that my daughter should find her safeguard in the words, ‘Fear not, for I am with thee.’ God’s grace enables us to reply, ‘I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.’ It should be a missionary’s privilege to fear nothing but sin.”
“I am afraid that I shall never be a good missionary,” sighed Alicia. “Harold should have chosen a stout-hearted, strong-minded wife.”
“Harold is very well contented with his choice,” cried a familiar voice behind her, and a kiss followed the words. “Do not be discouraged, my love, at a little difficulty at the first start. With patience, pains, and prayer you will be a capital missionary yet.”