It would be easy enough to give many illustrations of this important lesson, but there is room for only one. We may call it:
“The Marble-Block; or, The Sculptor’s Lesson.” “One of my scholars,” says a Sunday-school teacher, “had a little sister who was lame. Her name was Annie. I often called to see her, and pitied her as I saw her sitting by the window watching the other children on the playground. In addition to her lameness she was sometimes so sick that she could not sit at the window. One bright spring day I bought for her some oranges and candies and a pretty picture-book, and hoped to comfort her with these. I gave her the oranges and candies, and read to her from the little book; but still she seemed sad.
“‘Why are you so sad to-day, Annie, dear?’ I said.
“‘Oh, ma’am,’ she replied, ‘I don’t see why God should afflict me, and yet let other children be so well and happy. But if I only knew that God was not angry with me I shouldn’t care so much.’
“I asked her to take a little walk with me. In the course of our walk I took her into the room of a sculptor whom I knew. Here were a number of beautiful marble figures and some blocks of rough marble. The artist was at work on one of these, and Annie and I watched him with great interest. Presently I pointed to a great rough, dark block of marble that stood in the middle of the room, and said: ‘Do you like that, Annie?’
“‘Oh, no,’ she said, ‘why did they bring such an ugly block here?’
“‘That block,’ said the artist, ‘I shall begin to work upon to-morrow. Come in and see it again.’
“The next day Annie and I went in again. The artist spent most of that day in simply knocking off the rough places. Day after day we watched him; and every day the block seemed to grow less ugly. The sharp chisel cut here, and there, and everywhere. As we watched him we often thought if the block was alive and could feel how much it would suffer from the blows of that chisel!
“After a while the artist sent us an invitation to come to his studio. I took my little friend and went. As we entered, he said: ‘I have something to show Annie.’ Then he drew aside a thin, white veil, and behold! there stood before us, white as the driven snow, the beautiful image of an angel, that had been made out of that rough marble block. Annie shouted with joy when she saw it.