at him, but could give no answer; it seemed to her that she must bring the whole experience of her life before him to form one.
"I suppose," said her friend, "that, to begin with the smallest thing, she has always been watchfully careful to provide every thing that would be useful or necessary for you; she never forgot your wants, or was careless about them?"
"No indeed, Sir."
"And perhaps you recollect that she never minded trouble, or expense, or pain, where your good was concerned; she would sacrifice her own pleasure at any time for yours?"
Ellen's eyes gave a quick and strong answer to this, but she said nothing.
"And in all your griefs and pleasures you were sure of finding her ready and willing to feel with you, and for you, and to help you if she could? And in all the times you have seen her tried, no fatigue ever wore out her patience, nor any naughtiness of yours ever lessened her love; she could not be weary of waiting upon you when you were sick, nor of bearing with you when you forgot your duty more ready always to receive you than you to return. Isn't it so?"
"Oh yes, Sir."
"And you can recollect a great many words and looks of kindness and love many and many endeavours to teach you and lead you in the right way all showing the strongest desire for your happiness in this world, and in the next?"
"Oh yes, Sir, "said Ellen, tearfully; and then added, "Do you know my mother, Sir?"
"No," said he, smiling, "not at all; but my own mother has been in many things like this to me, and I judged yours might have been such to you. Have I described her right?"
"Yes, indeed, Sir," said Ellen "exactly."
"And in return for all this, you have given this dear mother the love and gratitude of your whole heart, haven't you?"
"Indeed I have, Sir;" and Ellen's face said it more than her words.
"You are very right," he said, gravely, "to love such a mother to give her all possible duty and affection; she deserves it. But, Ellen, in all these very things I have been mentioning, Jesus Christ has shown that he deserves it far more. Do you think, if you had never behaved like a child to your mother if you had never made her the least return of love or regard that she would have continued to love you as she does?"
"No, Sir," said Ellen "I do not think she would."
"Have you ever made any fit return to God for his goodness to you?"
"No, Sir," said Ellen, in a low tone.
"And yet there has been no change in his kindness. Just look at it, and see what he has done and is doing for you. In the first place, it is not your mother, but he, who has given you every good and pleasant thing you have enjoyed in your whole life. You love your mother, because she is so careful to provide for all your wants; but who gave her the materials to work with? She has only been, as it were, the hand by which he supplied you. And who gave you such a mother? There are many mothers not like her; who put into her heart the truth and love that have been blessing you ever since you were born? It is all all God's doing, from first to last: but his child has forgotten him in the very gifts of his mercy."
Ellen was silent, but looked very grave.
"Your mother never minded her own ease or pleasure when your good was concerned. Did Christ mind his? You know what he did to save sinners, don't you?"
"Yes, Sir, I know; Mamma often told me."
" 'Though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, that we through his poverty might be rich.' He took your burden of sin upon himself, and suffered that terrible punishment all to save you, and such as you. And now he asks his children to leave off sinning and come back to him, who has bought them with his own blood. He did this because he loved you; does he not deserve to be loved in return?'
Ellen had nothing to say; she hung down her head further and further.
"And patient and kind as your mother is, the Lord Jesus is kinder and more patient still. In all your life so far, Ellen, you have not loved or obeyed him; and yet he loves you, and is ready to be your friend. Is he not even to-day taking away your dear mother for the very purpose that he may draw you gently to himself, and fold you in his arms, as he has promised to do with his lambs? He knows you can never be happy anywhere else."
The gentleman paused again, for he saw that the little listener's mind was full.
"Has not Christ shown that he loves you better even than your mother does? And were there ever sweeter words of kindness than these?
" 'Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.'
" 'I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep.'
" 'I have loved thee with an everlasting love; therefore with loving-kindness have I drawn thee.' "
He waited a minute, and then added, gently
"Will you come to him, Ellen?"
Ellen lifted her tearful eyes to his; but there were tears there too, and her own sank instantly. She covered her face with her hands, and sobbed out in broken words
"Oh, if I could! but I don't know how."
"Do you wish to be his child, Ellen?"
"Oh yes, Sir if I could."
"I know, my child, that sinful heart of yours is in the way, but the Lord Jesus can change it, and will, if you will give it to him. He is looking upon you now, Ellen, with more kindness and love than any earthly father or mother could, waiting for you to give that little heart of yours to him, that he may make it holy, and fill it with blessing. He says, you know, 'Behold, I stand at the door and knock.' Do not grieve him away, Ellen."
Ellen sobbed, but all the passion and bitterness of her tears was gone. Her heart was completely melted.
"If your mother were here, and could do for you what you want, would you doubt her love to do it? would you have any difficulty in asking her?"
"Oh no!"
"Then do not doubt his love who loves you better still. Come to Jesus. Do not fancy he is away up in heaven out of reach of hearing; he is here, close to you, and knows every wish and throb of your heart. Think you are in his presence and at his feet even now and say to him in your heart, 'Lord, look upon me I am not fit to come to thee, but thou hast bid me come take me and make me thine own take this hard heart that I can do nothing with, and make it holy and fill it with thy love I give it and myself into thy hands, O dear Saviour!' "
These words were spoken very low, that only Ellen could catch them. Her bowed head sank lower and lower till he ceased speaking. He added no more for some time, waited till she had resumed her usual attitude and appearance, and then said
"Ellen, could you join in heart with my words?"
"I did, Sir I couldn't help it all but the last."
"All but the last?"
"Yes, Sir."
"But,
