I tried to think. Then I said, "I feel that I love her. I love to love her, I like to be with her. I like to hear people praise her. And I try--sometimes at least--to do things to please her. But I don't try half as hard as I ought, and I do and say a great many things to displease her." "Yes, yes," he said, "I know." "Has mother told you?" I cried out. "No, dear, no indeed. But I know what human nature is after having one of my own fifty years, and six of my children's to encounter." Somehow I felt more courage after he said that. "In the first place, then, you feel that you love your mother? But you never feel that you love your God and Saviour?" "I often try, and try, but I never do," I said. "Love won't be forced," he said, quickly. "Then what shall I do?" "In the second place, you like to be with your mother. But you never like to be with the Friend who loves you so much better than she does?" "I don't know, I never was with Him. Sometimes I think that when Mary sat at His feet and heard Him talk, she must have been very happy." "We come to the third test, then. You like to hear people praise your mother. And have you ever rejoiced to hear the Lord magnified?" I shook my head sorrowfully enough. "Let us then try the last test. You know you love your mother because you try to do things to please her. That is to do what you know she wishes you to do? Very well. Have you never tried to do anything God wishes you to do?" "Oh yes; often. But not so often as I ought." "Of course not. No one does that. But come now, why do you try to do what you think will please Him? Because it is easy? Because you like to do what He likes rather than what you like yourself?" I tried to think, and got puzzled. "Never mind," said Dr. Cabot, "I have come now to the point I was aiming at. You cannot prove to yourself that you love God by examining your feelings towards Him. They are indefinite and they fluctuate. But just as far as you obey Him, just so far, depend upon it, you love Him. It is not natural to us sinful, ungrateful human beings to prefer His pleasure to our own, or to follow His way instead of our own way, and nothing, nothing but love to Him can or does make us obedient to Him." "Couldn't we obey Him from fear?" Amelia now asked. She had been listening all this time in silence. "Yes; and so you might obey your mother from fear, but only for a season. If you had no real love for her you would gradually cease to dread her displeasure, whereas it is in the very nature of love to grow stronger and more influential every hour." "You mean, then, that if we want to know whether we love God, we must find out whether we are obeying Him?" Amelia asked. "I mean exactly that. 'He that keepeth my commandments he it is that loveth me.' But I cannot talk with you any longer now. There are many others still waiting. You can come to see me some day next week, if you have any more questions to ask."