“I’ve been asking Him for weeks and weeks to let me remember who I am; and He never does. I do try to believe He will; but He does make it such a long time. Sometimes it seems as if He must have forgotten, though David says He doesn’t ever forget really; but I do think He must have forgotten me;” and then the child’s voice broke altogether, and he told amid his sobs how he and David tried to meet every day at the turn of the tide, to pray for something that they seemed to ask in vain. Uncle Fred was much touched by the simply-told tale, and he put his arm round the little boy in quite a fatherly fashion, and let him sob out his trouble upon his shoulder, and then, when the child had grown somewhat calmer, he began to talk to him in a quiet and reassuring fashion. “My dear little boy, you may be quite sure of one thing, and that is that God hears every word you say, and that not one of your prayers is lost; but you must be patient, and wait for the answer until He sends it. He knows when that will be, though you do not, and He knows best.” “I know,” answered Bertie, quickly. “I always try to remember to say ‘Thy will be done’ too;” and the old look of perplexity stole over his face as he added, “Somebody told me to say that—it was when the water was coming in.” “You do not know who told you?” asked Uncle Fred, gently. Bertie shook his head and looked distressed. Already the recollection had passed like a flash, leaving only the blank behind. “Whoever it was said quite right,” said Uncle Fred, gravely. “You know who it was that taught us that prayer, Bertie?” “Jesus,” answered the child, softly. “Yes, Jesus; and you must never forget how much He had to bear, and to bear for us. He prayed that the bitter cup might pass away if it were God’s will, and yet He drank it to the very dregs, and all for our sakes. He once thought God had forsaken Him; but do you think He had?” Bertie shook his head. “Oh no. He could not forget His Son, you know.” “And He cannot forget one of His children either, Bertie. Are you one of His little ones, my child?” Bertie looked up wistfully. “I don’t know. I should like to be. How can I tell?” “Have you ever gone to Him in His own way, and asked Him to make you His?” “I don’t know,” answered Bertie, slowly. “I have prayed to Him; but I don’t know how to go to Him—I don’t know what His way is.” “His way is the way of the cross,” answered Uncle Fred, very gravely; and then, seeing that the child did not understand his meaning, he added, “I mean, my child, that you must go to Jesus first, and the rest will follow of itself.” “How can I go to Him?” asked the child. “You can go in prayer, my little boy. You must take all your troubles with you and all your sins. Your burden of sins may not be very heavy, but I daresay it troubles you sometimes.” Bertie hung his head.