"Katy, all that you say may be true.I dare say it is.But God loves you.He loves you.""He loves me," I repeated to myself."He loves me! Oh, Dr.Cabot, if I could believe that! If I could believe that, after all the promises I have broken, all the foolish, wrong things I have done and shall always be doing, God perhaps still loves me!""You may be sure of it," he said, solemnly."I, minister, bring the gospel to you to-day.Go home and say over and over to yourself, 'Iam a wayward, foolish child.But He loves me! I have disobeyed and grieved Him ten thousand times.But He loves me! I have lost faith in some of my dearest friends and am very desolate.But He loves me! Ido not love Him, I am even angry with Him! But He loves me! '"I came away, and all the way home I fought this battle with myself, saying, "He loves me!" I knelt down to pray, and all my wasted, childish, wicked life came and stared me in the face.I looked at it, and said with tears of joy, "But He loves me!" Never in my life did Ifeel so rested, so quieted, so sorrowful, and yet so satisfied.
Feb 10.-What a beautiful world this is, and how full it is of truly kind, good people! Mrs.Morris was here this morning, and just one squeeze of that long, yellow old hand of hers seemed to speak a bookful! I wonder why I have always disliked her so, for she is really an excellent woman.I gave her a good kiss to pay her for the sympathy she had sense enough not to put into canting words, and if you will believe it, dear old Journal, the tears came into her eyes, and she said:
"You are one of the Lord's beloved ones, though perhaps you do not know it"I repeated again to myself those sweet, mysterious words, and then Itried to think what I could do for Him.But I could not think of anything great or good enough.I went into mother's room and put my arms round her and told her how I loved her.She looked surprised and pleased.
"Ah, I knew it would come!" she said, laying her hand on her Bible.
"Knew what would come, mother?"
"Peace," she said.
I came back here and wrote a little note to Amelia, telling her how ashamed and sorry I was that I could not control myself the other day.Then I wrote a long letter to James.I have been very careless about writing to him.
Then I began to hem those handkerchiefs mother -asked me to finish a month ago.But I could not think of anything to do for God.I wish Icould.It makes me so happy to think that all this time, while I was caring for nobody but myself, and fancying He must almost hate me, He was loving and pitying me.
Feb.15.-I went to see Dr.Cabot again to-day.He came down from his study with his pen in his hand.
"How dare you come and spoil my sermon on Saturday?" he asked, good-humoredly.
Though he seemed full of loving kindness, I was ashamed of my thoughtlessness.Though I did not know he was particularly busy on Saturdays.If I were a minister I am sure I would get my sermons done early in the week.
"I only wanted to ask one thing," I said."I want to do something for God.And I cannot think of anything unless it is to go on a mission.
And mother would never let me do that.She thinks girls with delicate health are not fit for such work.""At all events I would not go to-day," he replied.Meanwhile do everything you do for Him who has loved you and given Himself for you."I did not dare to stay any longer, and so came away quite puzzled.
Dinner was ready, and as I sat down to the table, I said to myself:
"I eat this dinner for myself, not for God.What can Dr.Cabot mean?"Then I remembered the text about doing all for the glory of God, even in eating and drinking; but I do not understand it at all.
Feb.19.It has seemed to' me for several days that it must be that Ireally do love God, though ever so little.But it shot through my mind to-day like a knife, that it is a miserable, selfish love at the best, not worth my giving, not worth God's accepting.All my old misery has come back with seven other miseries more miserable than itself.I wish I had never been born! I wish I were thoughtless and careless, like so many other girls of my age, who seem to get along very well, and to enjoy themselves far more than I do.
Feb.21.-Dr.Cabot came to see me to-day.I told him all about it.He could not help smiling as he said:
"When I see a little infant caressing its mother, would you have me say to it, 'You selfish child, how dare you pretend to caress your mother in that way? You are quite unable to appreciate her character;you love her merely because she loves you, treats you kindly?'"It was my turn to smile now, at my own folly.
"You are as yet but a babe in Christ," Dr.Cabot continued."You love your God and Saviour because He first loved you.The time will come when the character of your love will become changed into one which sees and feels the beauty and the perfection of its object, and if you could be assured that He no longer looked on you with favor, you would still cling to Him with devoted affection.""There is one thing more that troubles me," I said."Most persons know the exact moment when they begin real Christian lives.But I do not know of any such time in my history.This causes me many uneasy moments.""You are wrong in thinking that most persons have this advantage over you.I believe that the children of Christian parents, who have been judiciously trained, rarely can 'point to any day or hour when they began to live this new life.The question is not, do you remember, my child, when you entered this world, and how! It is simply this, are you now alive and an inhabitant thereof? And now it is my turn to ask you a question.How happens it that you, who have a mother of rich and varied experience, allow yourself to be tormented with these petty anxieties which she is as capable of dispelling as I am?""I do not know," I answered."But we girls can't talk to our mothers about any of our sacred feelings, and we hate to have them talk to us."Dr.Cabot shook his head.
