“If you desire it, Mrs. Wyman.”
We started, Mrs. Wyman with Emma and Alice. As we passed the meadow, Mr. Wyman was busily pitching on the hay, Anderson and Gregory each having a cart. The oxen stood with their great patient eyes rolling about, as if not quite sure of the right of breaking in upon their day of rest. Nothing was said, however.
We reached the church door just in time to escape a few quiet drops; but these were soon gone; the clouds unrolled and dispersed their dark folds, and before noon all was bright again.
“Oh, father, you should have heard the sermon this morning,” said Alice Wyman, a sweet, blooming girl, tripping into the parlor as though nothing had happened. The farmer sat in his straight-backed chair, the hay was all in, and he was reading the Bible.
“What was the text, child?” he at length said.
“‘Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.’ Mr. Gordon spoke so beautifully of the implicit trust we are privileged to have, it seemed to me I never felt so forcibly before how far short we come of realizing all that might be ours, the contentment that would fill our hearts, would we put aside self and lean more perfectly upon Him.”
“But there is something for us to do,” said her father. “We are not to sit still; we are to act, and that diligently.”
“Yes,” answered Mrs. Wyman, “Mr. Gordon said there was something for us to do. The first act was obedience; the second was love and trust.”
By this time dinner was on the table. The farmer was evidently in no talkative mood, and few words were spoken.
In the afternoon I walked with Alice to the Sabbath-school, and returned comforted. Perhaps Mr. Wyman would turn me off; it was more than probable he would. I had displeased him. Still, having done what I thought to be right, I would trust it all to God.