"'Though He slay me,'" suggested her sister.
"It's all the same," said Bessie. "Isn't it, father?"
"Yes, it's all the same meaning. 'Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.'"
"It needs a strong faith," said Mrs. Reardon, with a sigh, "to see beyond the present darkness."
"It seems to me," replied her husband, "as if God gave us faith according to our need. Try and sing your mother one or two verses of that hymn, children. It will cheer her, maybe, as it did me just now."
The little pathetic voices rose up clear and sweet in obedience to their father's commands, but they were very sad to listen to, notwithstanding, owing to "the lump in their throats," of which Bessie had before complained.
"Though troubles assail
And dangers affright.
Though friends shall all fail
And foes all unite:
Yet one thing secures us—
Whatever betide.
The Scripture assures us
The Lord will provide.
"The birds without barn
Or storehouse are fed,
From them let us learn
To trust for our bread.
His saints what is fitting
Shall ne'er be denied,
So long as 'tis written,
The Lord will provide."
"It's all very well," said Mrs. Reardon, shaking her head. "But we're not saints; I wish we were."
"Yes; that knocked the wind out of me at first," answered her husband. "But it's all the same, as Bessie says, whether we're called saints or believers. Let's have the last verse, children:
"No fear or doubting
With Christ on our side,
We hope to die shouting,
'The Lord will provide!'"