It was four o’clock on a bright Sunday afternoon, and the children were hurrying out of Sunday school. Dorothy didn’t seem to be in quite as big a hurry as the others, so her teacher laid a hand on her shoulder, and said kindly,
“Why won’t you trust Jesus now, Dorothy?”
The girl shook off the hand, and darted into the street. Then her little face grew very grave, and Dorothy said to herself,
“That’s what they always say, ‘Why don’t you trust Jesus?’ and they can’t see how all the time I am longing to know Him, but I can’t understand it, don’t know the way to be saved. I wish I did—Oh, I wish I did.”
Late that night Dorothy went up to her little room. All evening she had tried to be her cheerful self, but there was such an aching in her heart, poor girl—she knew not where to find the Good Shepherd.
Kneeling down by the window, she laid her head upon the sill, and let the tears flow.
“O if Jesus was here, if He lived on earth now,” she thought, “I would go straight to Him, and tell Him all about it. I would tell Him that I am such a sinner, and would ask Him to save me.”
Suddenly a thought came. Wasn’t Jesus there all the time in her own little room? Even though she could not see Him, she knew that He was there—why hadn’t she thought of it before? She slipped over to her bed, and, closing her eyes, told the Lord Jesus all about it.
She knelt there quite a long time, for she had a lot to tell. When she got up from her knees her little heart was perfectly happy. She had come to Jesus and He was now her very own Saviour!
ML 02/19/1950