“I feel very naughty sometimes. I get angry and cross, and I think naughty things, if I don’t say them; and then I am miserable, and it doesn’t seem as if God would care for me any more. Once or twice, when I’ve been frightened, I’ve said things that were not quite true. I know God can’t love me any more if I do that. I sometimes think that is why He won’t hear me when I pray to Him.” Uncle Fred was too wise to make light of Bertie’s little recital of sins. He said gravely, and gently,— “You will have to get those sins taken away, Bertie, before you can feel quite happy again, or before you will feel to be one of God’s little children.” Bertie look up pleadingly. “Will Jesus take them away if I ask Him?” “Yes, Bertie, indeed He will. He is always waiting for us to come to Him with our sins. He can see our hearts. He knows when we are really sorry; and if we are, He washes away our sins in His precious blood, and make us worthy to call ourselves the sons of God.” “But—but—” “Well, my child, what is your difficulty?” “I don’t quite know how to say it; but don’t you think He might not care to listen to anybody like me? He would love _you_—perhaps He likes grown-up people to come; but I’m only a little boy—and I don’t belong to anybody—and perhaps—” “You belong to Jesus, Bertie,” was the gravely-spoken answer. “You belong to the dear Lord who died on the cross to save _you_. And can you not tell me who it was that said, ‘Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not?’ Is He likely after that to forbid them Himself?” Bertie looked up with a sudden smile. “He is very good, isn’t He? I should like to belong to Him always.” “Yes, Bertie, go to Him, and leave your burden of sin at the foot of His cross. Be one of His own little children—His faithful little soldiers, ready to obey Him and to fight for him as well as to love and trust Him; and then, whatever happens to you here, whatever may be His will about you, whether He gives you back to your earthly parents or not, you will always have a loving Father in heaven, a Friend and Guardian in His Son, and in His good time, I trust, a Comforter and Counsellor in the good Spirit He will breathe into your heart. Whatever else may happen to you, Bertie, you will never be alone.” The child could not understand all this speech, yet he entered into its spirit, and it comforted him strangely. He felt as if once he had known something of the grand truths now unfolded before him, as it were, for the first time, and the sweet, undefined sense of familiarity brought them home to his heart with a peculiar sense of warmth and light. He looked up with one of his rare smiles. “I think I understand. I think I had forgotten about Jesus; but I shan’t forget any more. I love Him very much now.”