"Whenever I hear you say that, father, I feel ashamed of all my faults and follies and want—oh, so much—to grow wiser and better."
"I too need to grow better and wiser," he said; "and we must both ask daily and hourly to be washed from our sins in the precious blood of Christ—that fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness.
"'There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel's veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.'"
"Papa, I love that hymn, and am thankful to Cowper for writing it," she said.
"And so am I," he returned. "Oh, what gratitude we owe for the opening of that fountain! for the love of Christ that led him to die that painful and shameful death of the cross—that we might live. 'The love of Christ which passeth knowledge.'"
They were silent for a little; then he said, "It is growing late, daughter; it is quite time time that this one of my birdlings was in her nest. Give me my good-night kiss and go."
"Can I go to you on the deck in the morning, papa?" she asked as she prepared to obey.
"That depends upon the weather," he answered. "If it is neither raining nor blowing hard, you may; otherwise, you may not."
"Yes, sir; I'll be careful to obey," she said: with a loving smile up into his face.
All seemed quiet within and without when she awoke in the morning, and dressing speedily she stole out through the cabin, and up the stairway, till she could look out upon the deck. Her father was there, caught sight of her at once, and drew quickly near.