“Papa, I thought I was a Christian; I thought I loved Jesus and had given my heart to him; but now I am afraid it was all a mistake. Oh, do you think a real, true Christian could behave so wickedly as I did the other day?”
“If a man running a race should step aside for a moment from the path, or stumble and fall, then get up and go on, I should not think he had proved himself to have been mistaken in believing that he had really set out to run it, and in the right path. Should a soldier fall back for a moment before the enemy, I should not think that proved that he did not love his country and his flag, and would never fight bravely for them.
“But, my child, there is no need to settle the question whether you really came at the time you thought you did; the way is open still and you may come now; come anew, or for the first time. Jesus still invites you, still says sweetly to you, ‘Come unto me and I will give you rest.’ ‘Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.’”
“Papa, pray for me,” she entreated; “please ask Jesus to forgive me and love me; to help me to come to him now, and always, always keep close to him.”
Then, with her hand still in his, he knelt with her by his side, and earnestly besought the Lord for her, “his dear, erring, but penitent child.”
They rose from their knees, and lifting her tearful eyes to his face with a look of ardent filial love, “Thank you, dear papa,” she said in faltering tones; “I said the words after you in my heart, and I do believe Jesus heard and has forgiven me and loves me now.”
“Yes, dear child, we have his own word for it, ‘Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.’”
He still held her hand in his, and now, laying the other tenderly on her head, he said solemnly: “‘The Lord bless thee and keep thee: the Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: the Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.’”
Then, with a good-night kiss, he sent her away to her rest.
“What a dear, dear father he is,” she said to herself as she went softly up the stairs again: “how I do love him! and oh, how I did want to put my arms round his neck and hug him tight! It would have been disobedience, though, and so I couldn’t; but to-morrow night I may; for then this dreadful time of being my own mistress, and only a visitor, will be over, and he’ll take me for his very own child again; then oh, how happy I shall be!”