“Yes, I mind something about it. And how all things work together for good to His people and for His glory at the same time. Yes, I mind.”
“Well,” said Christie, softly, “if folk really believe this, it will be easy for them to leave their friends in God’s hands. They can ask Him for what they need, being sure that they will get what is best for them, and that He canna make a mistake.”
There was a few minutes’ silence; and then Effie said:
“Christie, if I were sure that you are one of God’s people—one of the little lambs of His flock—I would not fear to let you go. Do you think you are?”
“I don’t know, Effie. I am afraid not. I am not like what the Bible says God’s people ought to be. But I am sure I wish to be.”
“Christie,” said her sister, earnestly, “you must never let anything hinder you from reading your Bible every day. You must not rest till you are sure about yourself.”
“Effie,” she said, in a low voice, and very seriously, “I think God did once hear a prayer of mine. It was a good while ago—before father died. It was one of my bad days; I was worse than usual; and when I came back from the pasture I sat down by the brook—under the birch-tree, you mind—and I went from one thing to another, till I said to myself, ‘I’ll see if there’s any good in praying.’ And so I prayed Aunt Elsie might not scold me when I went home; and she didna. But I didna care for that, because you were at home that night. But I prayed, too, that you might bring me a book. I meant ‘The Scottish Chiefs,’ or something; but you brought my Bible. I have thought, sometimes, that was one of the prayers answered in a better way than we ask or expect.”
The last few words were spoken in a very husky voice; and as she ceased, her head was laid on Effie’s lap. There were tears in Effie’s eyes too—she scarcely knew why. Certainly they were not for sorrow. Gently stroking her sisters drooping head, she said:
“Perhaps it was so, Christie. I believe it was; and you are right. We need not fear for one another. We will trust in Him.”