sedate;
why are not you a Christian?"

Annie. "Since we are talking so candidly, I will tell you. I really do
not know how to be. I cannot feel that I have ever done anything that
was so very sinful, although I know, for the Bible says so, that I am a
sinner. To be sure, I have done a great many wrong things, but it does
not seem as though God would notice such little things, and besides it
did not seem as though I could have done differently in the
circumstances. Mother has always commended me, and held me up for a
pattern to the younger children, and I suppose I have become, at least,
you will think I have, a real Pharisee. Yet when I have been urged to
repent and believe in Christ, I have not known what to do. I have spent
hours in the still, lonely night, thinking upon the subject, and saying,
if I could only feel that I am a sinner I would repent. I have always
believed in Jesus, that He is the Son of God, that He assumed our
nature, and bore the punishment we deserve, and will save all who
believe in Him. Now what more can I do? I know that I must do
everything, for I feel that I am far from being a Christian, and yet I
know not what. I suppose your experience does not correspond with mine,
Clara?"

Clara. "Not exactly. I not only know, but deeply feel, that I am a great
sinner; sometimes my sinfulness appears too great to be forgiven. The
trouble with me is _procrastination_. I cannot look back to the time
when I did not feel that I ought to be a Christian, but I have always
put off the subject, thinking I would attend to it another time, and it
has been just so for year after year. Only last week I was sitting alone
in my room at twilight, enjoying the quiet loveliness and beauty of the
view from my window. I could not help thinking of Him who had made all
things, and had given me the power of enjoying them, besides so many
other blessings, and I longed to participate in the feeling which Cowper
ascribes to the Christian, and say, '_My Father_ made them all.' Then
something seemed to whisper, 'wilt thou not from _this time_ cry unto
me, My Father, thou art the guide of my youth?' 'Now is the accepted
time.' 'To-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your heart.' But I
did harden my heart. I did not feel willing, like Alice, to give up the
pleasures which are inviting me all around, and become a devoted,
consistent Christian, for I do not mean to be a half-way Christian,
neither one thing or the other."