Words of Cheer for the Tempted, the Toiling, and the Sorrowing | Page 5

she folded her
hands over Aunt Mary's lap, and lifted her eyes to the loving face that
bent over her. "Be my guardian angel," she prayed tearfully, "your love
is so pure; a gentleness comes over me, when I am with you. All
tumultuous feelings sink down to repose. I have not known you, Aunt
Mary; you have shown me to-day how lovely goodness is. I can feel it
in your presence. Oh! to possess it! I fear it will be long years before I
grow so gentle in my spirit--so unselfish--so like a child of Heaven!"
"Hush, hush!" was Mary Clinton's gentle interruption. "You do not
know me yet, Alice. Perhaps I appear far better than I am."
Alice smiled, and laying her arm around Aunt Mary's neck, drew down
her face, and kissed her affectionately, whispering, "You will be my
guide, I ask no better."
"Thank you, thank you," broke from Aunt Mary's lips; she pressed
Alice's cheek with the ardent haste of love and gratitude; then yielding
to the emotions that thrilled her heart, she burst into tears, and wept
with a joy she had long been a stranger to. She felt that her life would
no longer be useless, if she could live for Alice, and lift up to God her

heart. How beautiful in its freshness, is the early day when the light of a
good resolve breaks like a halo over the soul, and by its power, seeks to
win it from its selfish idols! Earnest and strong is the hopefulness that
bids us labour trustingly to become all we yearn to be--all we may be.
How tremblingly Mary Clinton leaned upon her Saviour! experience
had taught her the weakness of her fluttering heart; sorrow was familiar,
yet she prayed not to shrink from it. How clear and vigorous was the
mind of Alice--how shadowless was her unerring path to be--how all
weakness departed before the sudden thought that rose up in her soul!
How rich was the light that beamed from her steady eye--how calm and
trusting the slight smile that parted her lips! How meek and confiding
she was, and yet how full of strength! She was a young seeker after
truth, and she realized not yet, that that same truth was the power to
which she must bow every rebellious thing within her. Months rolled
on, and the quiet gladness in her heart made it a delight to her to do
anything and everything it seemed her duty to do. The unexplored
world within opened to her gaze, and threw a glory upon creation.
Infinitely priceless in her eyes, were the thousand hearts around her, in
which the Lord had kindled the undying lamp of life.
One evening, at rather a late hour, Alice Clinton sought the chamber of
her aunt and seated herself quietly beside her, saying in a subdued
voice as she took her hand, "I am inexpressibly sad to-night, Aunt Mary.
There is no very particular reason why I should feel so; no one can
soothe me but you. Put your arms around me, Aunt Mary, and talk to
me--give me some strength to go forward in the way I have chosen. I
almost despair--I have no good influence, no moral courage. Perhaps,
after all, my efforts have been in vain to become better, and I shall sink
back into my former state. If all who are my friends were like you, it
would be an easy thing to glide on with the stream. But I am in the
midst of peril--I never knew until to-night that it was hard to speak with
a cold rigour to our friends when they merit it. If I were despised, or
neglected, I could more easily fix my thoughts on heaven. I dread so to
hurt the feelings of any one."
"What do you refer to, dear?" inquired Aunt Mary, tenderly.
"My friend Eleanor Temple, and her brother Theodore, have been
spending the evening with me. You know how gay and witty they are.
In answer to a remark of mine, Theodore gravely quoted a passage of

Scripture, which applied to my observation in an irresistibly ludicrous
manner. I yielded to a hearty laugh which I could not restrain; it came
so suddenly I had no time for thought. But in a moment after my
conscience smote me, and I felt that my respect for Theodore had
lessened. I had no right to rebuke him, even if I had the moral courage,
for my laughter was encouragement. I turned away from him and spoke
to Eleanor; I was displeased with myself, and I felt a sort of inward
repugnance to him. But that was not the end; several times afterwards
Theodore did the same thing.
"'There are subjects which are not fit food