Whenever one thinks of the little girl among the daisies there comes to him in woful contrast the little girl in the crowded cities’ wretched streets.  She is denied the daisy field.  Stars do not tempt her to wonder.  The narrow streets filled with material things, pressing close, crowd out sun and moon.  The name of God is familiar to her ears but she does not ask questions about Him.  She associates the name with loud voices, angry faces and often with blows.  Death awakens wonder but there is little time for answers to puzzled questionings.  The few days of relief from noise, the expressions of sympathy and friendship, the unusual words of tenderness all make a deep impression—­then life goes on as before only harder because of the added expense.  As the years pass she accepts the teachings of her church, she can recite them more or less glibly but they have nothing special to do with her life.  Philosophy and science do not trouble her.  She says her prayers thinking about other things and when she grows older stops saying them, save at church.

Oftentimes as a little girl she receives no religious instruction, never enters a church and the name of God drops in curses from her own lips.  Only now and then fear of the future takes possession of her for a moment.  Only in great stress of unusual suffering or pain, or in the presence of awful sorrow is her soul stirred to ask the little girl’s question, “What is Heaven like?”

Sometimes the bitterness of her lot causes her to treat the idea of God with scorn.  “Look at me,” she said one day in my presence.  “What have I done that God should punish me with the troubles I’ve got.  There ain’t no God, that’s what I say, anyways.”

Poor girl!  The church must give to her the God whom she can trust and love, but it will have to give Him in widespread, simple justice.  First she must see Him in deeds and then in words.

The girl amidst the squalor of wretched conditions in heartless cities, needs a God who is her defender and champion as well as her Savior.  When some wise instructor or inspired friend can give to her this view of the Lord God of Hosts, the Father of all, who seeks through His children to save His children her salvation has begun.

Oftentimes one meets the gentle, trustful, lovable little girl who asks her question and receiving the answer accepts it, never to doubt it through all the years, never to ask the great universal questions again.  Sometimes it is because the answers were so wisely given, sometimes because the depths of the girl’s mental and spiritual life are never touched.  She has a comfortable faith, earnest, true, honest and sincere.  It does not embrace the world, nor is it deeply concerned with the great problems with which the world wrestles.  It is not necessary perhaps that it should be.  The girl is naturally religious, trustful and believing.  Her sweet, untroubled faith blesses the life of every day.