LOVE ME—AND TELL ME SO
AN English bishop was traveling in India to inspect the mission work, and when his journey was completed, a farewell gathering was held in his honor. On this occasion the bishop spoke on the words: "Love me—and tell me so!"
He had often asked himself whether his congregation at home really loved him. He thought it did; but sometimes he couldn't help wishing: If they only would say so! Now he wished to say, by way of a parting greeting, to the Christians: Love your ministers, and let them know that you do! They need your love, and they need to be told that you actually do love them.
This little speech reached England before the bishop arrived there. When, upon reaching home, his congregation received him with a banquet. On the wall of the hall, just opposite the main entrance door, was an inscription in large letters ornamented by leaves and flowers: "We love you, and we are saying so." That was the first thing the bishop saw, and he rejoiced.
Love me, and tell me so! That's the cry from thousands of souls yearning for love, and where the cry finds an answer the heart rejoices. Where no answer comes, life will be utterly miserable.
Once upon a time a wealthy woman met a poor orphan who looked imploringly at her. "What do you want me to give you?" she asked. "O, just like me a little bit!" the orphan answered.
O, just love me just a little bit!
I have seen that prayer where one should least expect it—I have read it in the eyes of a mother when they rested upon her grown-up daughter. She had indeed grown, was taller even than her mother. And then she had received an education—mother surely could be proud of such a big and fine girl who had learned so much! But a mother's heart finds no sustenance in mere pride. It required delight in the daughter—and there is delight only in love. But the girl went about so fine and big and cold while the mother, even as the poor orphan, implored, O, love me just a little bit!