"'Return, O Holy Dove, return,
Sweet messenger of rest;
I hate the sins which made Thee mourn,
And drove Thee from my breast.
"'So shall my walk be close with God,
Calm and serene my frame,
So purer light shall mark the road
That leads me to the Lamb.'
"Will you not go back to Him at once, May?" she said, laying her hand upon mine.
"Oh, Miss Irvine, I will; indeed I will," I said.
"Go now, dear," she said.
So I left her sitting there, and went on, down the winding, shady path to the sea. It was a quiet, solitary place. The only sounds that were to be heard were the splashing of the waves upon the rocks, and the cries of the white sea-birds as they flew backwards and forwards on the little rocky islands which lay about half a mile from the shore.
I knelt down in a sheltered corner, and felt myself alone with God. I do not think that I have ever realised the Lord's presence more than at that moment. And then I confessed it all to Him, all my coldness, all my carelessness, all my neglect of prayer, all my indifference to Him. I came back to Him, and asked Him to receive me, and to give me the light of His countenance again. And then, as Miss Irvine had advised me, I prayed very earnestly for the Holy Spirit, pleading that promise—
"If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him?"
Oh, how thankful I felt that Miss Irvine had spoken to me that afternoon! I am sure that God put it into her heart to do so.
When I went back to the house, I found her still sitting in the same place, and she said, as she took hold of my arm to walk home with me:
"Is it all right, dear?"