"My head aches," I said; "but I should soon be all right if I could only know there was a chance for poor Frank to get better too."
"I wish I had better news for you, Stewart. My mother and I can only pray for him."
Chandos was going away as he said this, but I caught his hand and held him back. "I will pray too," I whispered; "but if God hears me now, how shall I ever keep square afterwards? and I must, you know, to keep from being a sneak."
"Look here, Stewart; you are mistaken altogether in thinking God's service such a dreadful bondage. He knows you are a boy, and does not expect you to be prim and precise and always praying and singing psalms. I am not sure that it would not displease Him if you tried to do that, for He knows it would be a poor preparation for our work in the world by-and-by."
"But what would He want me to do, then?" I said.
"First of all to think of Him as your friend. The Lord Jesus was a boy Himself once, you know, and so He knows all about a boy's feelings and temptations. Almost my father's last words to me were, 'Be honest and upright and pure;' and I know God will help me to keep my father's command if I seek His help, as He will you if you will take Him to be your Friend."
"And isn't that what I want?" I said; "to be honest and upright and pure?"
"I believe you do, Stewart, and it's what God wants you to be, and what He will help you to be if you will let Him."
"But what else must I do? Religious folks always are different from others, you know."
"Well, they ought to be. A religious sailor ought to be the bravest and most fearless man on board the ship, and do his work better and more cheerfully than anybody else."