We have done wrong, dear sister; for we have not patient
But answered often hasty words by hasty words again;
And when we should with gentle acts have soothed each other’s care,
We’ve made by cold indifference our lot more hard to bear.
We have done wrong, dear sister; I remember how we’ve
Our widowed mother’s anxious heart, so long of joy bereaved;
O, were we loving, good, and kind, and all our murmurings o’er,
Might not the smiles come back again and light her face once more?
I know our lot in life, thus far, hath not been smooth
That often much of toil and ill has fallen to our share;
But why, dear sister, why should we ourselves the load increase?
Why, by our jangling and our strife, shut out all joy and peace?
And more: we have offended God; this day I feel
We have forgotten his commands, and gained us nought but woe.
O join with me as, filled with grief, most earnestly I pray,
That he will yet be merciful, and take our sin away.
“Love thou each other;” “love all
men;” “and love shall make you free;”
Thus said the Savior, Jesus; and let this our watchword be;
Let us each other love; and pray that gentle thoughts may come,
And gentle words and acts may make an Eden of our home.
Forgive me now, dear sister, all the anger I have
And all my past unkindness, through the years already flown;
I’ll love thee faithfully and true, and lay all harshness by;
To be my loving sister, then, wilt thou not also try?
One Saturday afternoon, little Emma came into her mother’s room, and said to her, “Mother, may I go with Abba to her Sunday school? She says, they are all so happy there.”
“My child,” said her mother, “why do you wish to leave your own school and go to a strange one?”
“Because, mother, Abba has often told me what a good school they have, and how much she loves it.”
“Well, as you are very anxious to go, I will grant your request this once, on condition that it must never be repeated.”
The next morning, this pleasant little girl was up very early to make ready to go with her friend to the new Sabbath school.
She was delighted with all she saw and heard; and when the pastor took her by the hand, she said to herself, “I wish mother would permit me to come here every Sunday. I will ask her, at any rate.” After the school was dismissed, she went home, revolving in her mind what she should say to obtain her mother’s consent.
Her mother observed how thoughtful she appeared, and said to her, “Emma, how did you like Abba’s Sunday school?”
“Oh, mother! I was so happy; do let me go there. They sing so sweetly, and the pastor was so kind. He had an affectionate word for all. Their superintendent, too, was so pleasant, I know I should love him.”