"But why, dear cousin? You were singing merrily half an hour ago. Has anything happened since? It is a sad thing when we cannot tell our heavenly Father our troubles. You know praying is only talking with God,—telling him our desires. If we have sinned, we confess it to him as we would to an earthly parent, only we do it more readily, as we know he is more ready to forgive. He says, 'Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.' You feel sure your father loves you. Mother has often told me how tender and indulgent he is. But your heavenly Father is infinitely more so. He sees you all the time, and knows just what your temptations have been; and the moment he sees you are sorry, he is ready to forgive."
Ellen started up and looked eagerly in her cousin's face. "How has she found out that I have been tempted?" was the question which alarmed her.
But Mary returned the glance so kindly, she was relieved, and saying to herself, "After all, what's the use of feeling so. I never mean to tell another lie," she laughed hysterically, as she sprang to her feet.
"Come, Ellen, sit by me while I read my evening chapter."
Mary went on, not at all deceived by her appearance, and opening her Testament, she read the thrilling account of the prodigal son returning to his father.
"Is it true?" asked Ellen, sighing deeply.
"Christ told his disciples this parable," answered Mary, "to show poor sinners how willing God is to forgive them. It is true that many, many poor prodigals have gone astray from their Father's house, have offended against his holy laws, and have found that where they expected pleasure, they only met with pain, sorrow, and weariness of heart. When oppressed with poverty and want,—at last they remembered that in the home they had left there was plenty; and with penitence for their sin, in so foolishly throwing away their blessings, they arise at last and say, 'I will go to my Father, confess my fault, and be happy once more.'"
Ellen began to pick the trimming on her apron, her countenance looking very thoughtful.
Mary slowly closed the book, and putting her arm around her cousin, said, softly,—
"You and I, dear girl, and all mankind, are sinners before God. Our sinful hearts have led us far away from home; but we shall never know peace until we return to him with the prayer of the prodigal on our lips: