A little Indian girl was dying. One afternoon she begged her rather to take her to the brook once more. He did so and sat down in the shade, where the little girl could see the water. Turning away her wasted face, she said earnestly, “Pray, Father.” “Oh! I can’t my darling,” he said hastily, “Father,” she said, “I am going to heaven soon: and I want to tell Jesus that my father prays.”
The strong man’s head was bowed; and there went up such a prayer of repentance, and confession as must have thrilled with joy the courts of heaven.
ML 04/02/1961