Missy | Page 6

to surprise them, she was learning by heart a whole Psalm.
She planned to spring it upon them the first night at family prayers. At grandma's they had prayers every night before going to bed. First grandpa read a long chapter out of the Holy Bible, then they all knelt down, grandpa beside his big Morris chair, grandma beside her little willow rocker, and whoever else was present beside whatever chair he'd been sitting in. Grandpa prayed a long prayer; grandma a shorter one; then, if any of the grandchildren were there, they must say a verse by heart. Missy's first verse had been, "Jesus wept." But she was just a tiny thing then. When she grew bigger, she repeated, "Suffer the little children to come unto Me." Later she accomplished the more showy, "In My Father's house are many mansions; I go there to prepare a place for you."
But this would be her first whole Psalm. She pictured every one's delighted and admiring surprise. After much deliberation she had decided upon the Psalm in which David sings his song of faith, "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."
How beautiful it was! So deep and so hard to understand, yet, somehow, all the more beautiful for that. She murmured aloud, "I will fear no evil--for Thou art with me--Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me"; and wondered what the rod and staff really were.
But best of all she liked the last verse:
"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house o￡ the Lord forever."
To dwell in the house of the Lord forever!--How wonderful! What was the house of the Lord? . . . Missy leaned back in the summerhouse seat, and gazed dreamily out at the silver-white clouds drifting lazily across the sky; in the side-yard her nasturtium bed glowed up from the slick green grass like a mass of flame; a breeze stirred the flame to gentle motion and touched the ramblers on the summerhouse, shaking out delicious scents; distantly from the backyard came the tranquil, drowsy sounds of unseen chickens. Missy listened to the chickens; regarded sky and flowers and green-- colours so lovely as to almost hurt you--and sniffed the fragrant air. . . All this must be the house of the Lord! Here, surely goodness and mercy would follow her all the days of her life.
Thus, slowly, the marvellous new feeling stole back and took possession of her. She could no longer bear just sitting there quiet, just feeling. She craved some sort of expression. So she rose and moved slowly over the slick green grass, pausing by the blazing nasturtium bed to pick a few vivid blossoms. These she pinned to her dress; then went very leisurely on to the house-to the parlour--to the piano--to "Asleep in Jesus."
She played it "with expression." Her soul now seemed to be flowing out through her fingers and to the keyboard; the music came not from the keyboard, really, but from her soul. Rapture!
But presently her mood was rudely interrupted by mother's voice at the door.
"Missy, Aunt Nettie's lying down with a headache. I'm afraid the piano disturbs her."
"All right, mother."
Lingeringly Missy closed the hymnal. She couldn't forbear a little sigh. Perhaps mother noted the sigh. Anyway, she came close and said:
"I'm sorry, dear. I think it's nice the way you've learned to play hymns."
Missy glanced up; and for a moment forgetting that grown-ups don't always understand, she breathed:
"Oh, mother, it's HEAVENLY! You can't imagine--"
She remembered just in time, and stopped short. But mother didn't embarrass her by asking her to explain something that couldn't be explained in words. She only laid her hand, for a second, on the sleek brown head. The marvellous feeling endured through the afternoon, and through supper, and through the evening--clear up to the time Missy undressed and said her prayers. Some special sweetness seemed to have crept into saying prayers; our Lord Jesus seemed very personal and very close as she whispered to Him a postlude:
"I will fear no evil, for Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I'll dwell in Thy house forever, O Lord--Amen."
For a time she lay open-eyed in her little white bed. A flood of moonlight came through the window to her pillow. She felt that it was a shining benediction from our Lord Himself. And indeed it may have been. Gradually her eyes closed. She smiled as she slept.
The grace of God continued to be there when she awoke. It seemed an unusual morning. The sun was brighter than on ordinary mornings; the birds outside were twittering more loudly; even the lawnmower which black Jeff was already rolling over the