“Can you trust him?”
“Sir, I must not mistrust him; nor would I, if I might.”
“Right, child; he is worthy of all your trust.”
“And then, sir, I am to have a thankful remembrance of his death. I can never think of his dying, but I think also what a poor unworthy creature I am; and yet he is so good to me. I wish I could thank him—sir, I have been reading about his death—how could the people do as they did to him?—but it was all for our salvation. And the thief on the cross—that is beautiful. I hope he will remember me too, and that I shall always remember him and his death most thankfully.”
“And lastly, Jenny, are you in charity with all men? Do you forgive all that have offended you? Do you bear ill-will in your heart to anybody?”
“Dear sir, no! how can I? If God is good to me, if he forgives me, how can I help forgiving others? There is not a person in all the world, I think, sir, that I do not wish well to for Christ’s sake, and that from the bottom of my heart.”
“How do you feel towards those bold, wanton, ill-tempered girls at the next door, who jeer and mock you so about your religion?”
“Sir, the worst thing I wish them is, that God may give them grace to repent; that he may change their hearts, and pardon all their wicked ways and words. May he forgive them, as I do with all my soul!”
She ceased—I wished to ask no more. My heart was full. “Can this be the religion of a child?” thought I. “O that we were all children like her!”
“Reach me that prayer-book, and the cup and plate. My dear friends, I will now, with God’s blessing, partake with you in the holy communion of our Lord’s body and blood.”