COMING OF AGE COLLECTION - Martha Finley Edition (Timeless Children Classics For Young Girls). Finley Martha

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      "Ah! papa, I know what it means," she answered, in a half-sorrowful tone. "Christian, with the load on his back, is a person who has been convinced of sin by God's Holy Spirit, and feels his sins a heavy burden—too heavy for him to bear; and then he tries to get rid of them by leaving off his wicked ways, and by doing good deeds; but he soon finds he can't get rid of his load that way, for it only grows heavier and heavier, until at last he gives up trying to save himself, and just goes to the cross of Jesus Christ; and the moment he looks to Jesus and trusts in Him, his load of sin is all gone."

      Mr. Dinsmore was surprised; as indeed he had often been at Elsie's knowledge of spiritual things.

      "Who told you all that?" he asked.

      "I read it in the Bible, papa; and besides, I know, because I have felt it."

      He did not speak again for some moments; and then he said very gravely, "I am afraid you read too many of those dull books. I don't want you to read things that fill you with sad and gloomy thoughts, and make you unhappy. I want my little girl to be merry and happy as the day is long."

      "Please don't forbid me to read them, papa," she pleaded with a look of apprehension, "for indeed they don't make me unhappy, and I love them so dearly."

      "You need not be alarmed. I shall not do so unless I see that they do affect your spirits," he answered in a reassuring tone, and she thanked him with her own bright, sweet smile.

      She was silent for a moment, then asked suddenly, "Papa, may I say some verses to you?"

      "Some time," he said, "but not now, for there is the tea-bell;" and taking her hand, he led her down to the dining-room.

      They went to the drawing-room after tea, but did not stay long. There were no visitors, and it was very dull and quiet there, no one seeming inclined for conversation. Old Mr. Dinsmore sat nodding in his chair, Louise was drumming on the piano, and the rest were reading or sitting listlessly, saying nothing, and Elsie and her papa soon slipped away to their old seat by his dressing-room fire.

      "Sing something for me, my pet, some of those little hymns I often hear you singing to yourself," he said, as he took her on his knee; and Elsie gladly obeyed.

      Some of the pieces she sang alone, but in others which were familiar to him, her father joined his deep bass notes to her sweet treble, at which she was greatly delighted. Then they read several chapters of the Bible together, and thus the evening passed so quickly and pleasantly that she was very much surprised when her papa, taking out his watch, told her it was her bed-time.

      "O papa! it has been such a nice, nice evening!" she said, as she bade him good-night; "so like the dear old times I used to have with Miss Rose, only—"

      She paused and colored deeply.

      "Only what, darling?" he asked, drawing her caressingly to him.

      "Only, papa, if you would pray with me, like she did," she whispered, winding her arms about his neck, and hiding her face on his shoulder.

      "That I cannot do, my pet, I have never learned how; and so I fear you will have to do all the praying for yourself and me too," he said, with a vain effort to speak lightly, for both heart and conscience were touched.

      The only reply was a tightening of the clasp of the little arms about his neck, and a half-suppressed sob; then two trembling lips touched his, a warm tear fell on his cheek, and she turned away and ran quickly from the room.

      Oh! how earnest and importunate were Elsie's pleadings at a throne of grace that night, that her "dear, dear papa might soon be taught to love Jesus, and how to pray to Him." Tears fell fast while she prayed, but she rose from her knees feeling a joyful assurance that her petitions had been heard, and would be granted in God's own good time.

      She had hardly laid her head upon her pillow, when her father came in, and saying, "I have come to sit beside my little girl till she falls asleep," placed himself in a chair close by her side, taking her hand in his and holding it, as she loved so to have him do.

      "I am so glad you have come, papa," she said, her whole face lighting up with pleased surprise.

      "Are you?" he answered with a smile. "I'm afraid I am spoiling you; but I can't help it to-night. I think you forget your wish to repeat some verses to me?"

      "Oh! yes, papa!" she said, "but may I say them now?"

      He nodded assent, and she went on. "They are some Miss Rose sent me in one of her letters. She cut them out of a newspaper, she said, and sent them to me because she liked them so much; and I too think they are very sweet. The piece is headed:

      "'THE PILGRIM'S WANTS.'

      "'I want a sweet sense of Thy pardoning love,

       That my manifold sins are forgiven;

       That Christ, as my Advocate, pleadeth above,

       That my name is recorded in heaven.

      "'I want every moment to feel

       That thy Spirit resides in my heart—

       That his power is present to cleanse and to heal,

       And newness of life to impart.

      "'I want—oh! I want to attain

       Some likeness, my Saviour, to thee!

       That longed for resemblance once more to regain,

       Thy comeliness put upon me.

      "'I want to be marked for thine own—

       Thy seal on my forehead to wear;

       To receive that new name on the mystic white stone

       Which none but thyself can declare.

      "'I want so in thee to abide

       As to bring forth some fruit to thy praise;

       The branch which thou prunest, though feeble and dried,

       May languish, but never decays.

      "'I want thine own hand to unbind

       Each tie to terrestrial things,

       Too tenderly cherished, too closely entwined,

       Where my heart so tenaciously clings.

      "'I want, by my aspect serene,

       My actions and words, to declare

       That my treasure is placed in a country unseen,

       That my heart's best affections are there.

      "'I want as a trav'ller to haste

       Straight onward, nor pause on my way;

       Nor forethought in anxious contrivance to waste

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