en they
heard about the love of Christ, "Yes, we have no doubt that Jesus
does love grown up people, men and women in general. We believe this
because the Bible tells us so; but how do we know that he loves us
children?" If he had not told us so himself, we could not have been
sure of it. But we know it now. And when we hear, or read of the love
of Christ, we may be sure that it takes the children in.

During a famine in Germany, a family became so poor that they were in
danger of starving. The father proposed that one of the children
should be sold, and food provided for those that remained. At last
the mother consented; but then the question arose which one of the
four should be selected. The eldest, their first-born, could not be
spared; the second looked like the mother, the third was like his
father, and they could not give either of them up; and then the
youngest--why, he was their pet, their darling, how could they give
_him_ up? So they concluded that they would all perish together,
rather than part with one of their little ones. When those children
knew of this, they might very well feel sure that their parents loved
them. But Jesus did more than this for us, he was willing to die upon
the cross, and he did so die, that "not one of his little ones should
perish."

"Being Loved Back Again." Little Alice Lee sat in her rocking chair.
She was clasping a beautiful wax doll to her bosom, and singing sweet
lullabies to it. But every little while she looked wistfully at her
mother. She was busy writing, and had told Alice to keep as quiet as
possible till she got through.

It seemed a long time to Alice; but after awhile her mother laid down
her pen, and pushed aside her papers, and said:--"Now I am through
for to-day, Alice, and you can make as much noise as you please."

In a moment Alice laid down her doll, and running to her mother,
threw her arms round her neck, and nestled sweetly in her loving
bosom.

"I'm so glad," said Alice, "I wanted to love you so much, mamma."

"Did you, darling?" and the mother clasped the little one tenderly in
her arms. "I am very glad that my little girl loves me;" replied her
mother, "but I thought you were not very lonely while I was writing;
you and dollie seemed to be having a good time together."

"Yes, we had, mamma; but I always get tired of loving dollie after
awhile."

"Do you, dear? Tell me why?"

"O, because she never loves me back again."

"And is _that_ why