"I am so happy!" whispered Milly into her father's ear. "I should like to kiss Corrie for making me so glad. I forgot all about myself when I was doing things for her."
"Ah! You have found out the secret, my pet. Papa's darling must never forget it all her life. She will then always be able to find the rainbow among darkest clouds."
Robin had made his round rosy face shine with the soap he had scrubbed it with on Christmas morning. And now, in his neatly patched Sunday best, he left mother and sister to the enjoyment of a quiet morning at home, and followed the sound of the melodious bells up the street to the old grey church, whose porch invited all to enter and hear the sweet message of God's goodwill towards men. The holly leaves glistened bright among the woodwork, and blessed words were written in evergreen letters on the walls. Robin spelt them out reverently from his free seat:
"'Unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; and the government shall be upon His shoulder: and His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.'" (Isa. ix. 6).
The minister knew what wondrous tidings he had to tell the people, and his eye beamed with joy as he read the story of Bethlehem. He begged each one of his hearers not to be content with merely looking at the holy Babe in His humble manger cradle, and going away to their work in the world to forget all about Him. Christ must be born in each heart by the Holy Spirit of God, and then the life will be a Christ-life, because Jesus will be dwelling there.
The Lord Christ now, as then, stoops from the throne of His glory to knock at the door of every heart. Oh, do not let us say, "There is no room for Him in the inn;" rather let us open the door and invite Him to enter, to dwell with us as Lord of our whole life and being; so shall we walk with God.
"I hope He will come into my heart," thought poor Robin, "and never never leave it." And he prayed, "O Lord Jesus, I want to love Thee. Bless me now, and mother, and Corrie. Amen."
It was a long winter that year, and many a heart yearned wistfully for the genial spring sunshine, especially in homes where coals were scarce and garments thin and scanty, and the money which procured them hardly earned.
Milly thought it was bad enough to be a constant prisoner in her warm and comfortable nursery, and was at times sorely tempted to give way to peevish complainings and fretful temper. But the precious plant of love, which blooms brightly in the soil of unselfishness, began to take root in her young heart, to bear now and in after years much fruit to the glory and praise of God. Will those who read this story try each one to plant a slip of it in their life's garden? It is the true heartsease, for where it blossoms, there is always a contented happy spirit, rejoicing in the sunshine of God's love.
At last the snowy border of Nature's ermine robe began to fold away, and flowers were decking her green kirtle. The bulbs had lain so many weeks under their white covering that they had almost forgotten how long they had been asleep. But at last, the pale snowdrop and gleaming crocus peeped shyly up to nod to each other in the sunshine which had called them from their hiding-places.