"
"So do I, father dear," answered Mary simply, the tears rushing
into her eyes at the thought that perhaps she was not one; "I
want me to be a Christian."
"Yes, my love," he went on; "but it is not that I do not think
you a Christian; it is that I want you to be a downright real
Christian, not one that is but trying to feel as a Christian
ought to feel. I have lost so much precious time in that way!"
"Tell me--tell me," cried Mary, clasping her other hand over his.
"What would you have me do?"
"I will tell you. I am just trying how," he responded. "A
Christian is just one that does what the Lord Jesus tells him.
Neither more nor less than that makes a Christian. It is not even
understanding the Lord Jesus that makes one a Christian. That
makes one dear to the Father; but it is being a Christian, that
is, doing what he tells us, that makes us understand him. Peter
says the Holy Spirit is given to them that obey him: what else is
that but just actually, really, doing what he says--just as if I
was to tell you to go and fetch me my Bible, and you would get up
and go? Did you ever do anything, my child, just because Jesus
told you to do it?"
Mary did not answer immediately. She thought awhile. Then she
spoke.
"Yes, father," she said, "I think so. Two nights ago, George was
very rude to me--I don't mean anything bad, but you know he is
very rough.
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