to look to but him; and now he says to you, 'My daughter, give
_me_ thy heart.' — Will you do it, Ellen?"

Ellen wept exceedingly while the gentleman was saying these
words, clasping his hands still in both hers; but she made no
answer. He waited till she had become calmer, and then went on
in a low tone —

"What is the reason that you do not love the Saviour, my
child?"

"Mamma says it is because my heart is so hard."

"That is true; but you do not know how good and how lovely he
is, or you could not help loving him. Do you often think of
him, and think much of him, and ask him to show you himself,
that you may love him?"

"No, Sir," said Ellen; "not often."

"You pray to him, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir; but not so."

"But you ought to pray to him so. We are all blind by nature,
Ellen; — we are all hard-hearted; — none of us can see him or
love him unless he opens our eyes and touches our hearts; but
he has promised to do this for those who seek him. Do you
remember what the blind man said when Jesus asked him what he
should do for him? — he answered, 'Lord, that I may receive my