“Thank you, papa, but I do not care to,” she answered, as the others hastened away; “the breeze makes it very pleasant here on deck.”

“Yes, and you can rest nicely in one of these steamer chairs.”  Then, taking a keener look into her face, “But something seems to be troubling you, dear child.  Tell your father what it is, that he may help and comfort you,” he added, in very tender tones, taking her hands and drawing her to a seat close at his side.

“Oh, papa, it is that I am—­I am afraid I have been deceiving myself and am not really a Christian,” she said, with a half sob and hiding her face on his shoulders.  “There is so little, if any, of the fruit of the Spirit in me—­no gentleness, goodness, meekness—­though I do love Jesus and long to be like him.”

“In that case, dear child, I am sure you are one of his,” he answered low and tenderly.  “Love is put first in the list and I have seen, to my great joy, a steady growth in you of longsuffering, gentleness, and meekness.  Jesus said, ‘By their fruits ye shall know them,’ and I think that, though far from perfect, yet my dear eldest daughter does show by her life that she is earnestly striving to bring forth in it the fruit of the Spirit.  ’The path of the just is as the shining light that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.’  We are not made perfect in a moment, but are to grow in grace, becoming more and more like the Master, and when the work of grace is completed—­so that we are made perfect in holiness—­we do immediately pass into glory, to be forever with the Lord.”

“Yes, papa; and oh, I want you to pray for me that I may grow in grace every day and hour of my life.”

“I will, I do, daughter; and you must pray for your father too, for he is by no means perfect yet.”

“Papa, you do seem perfect to me,” she said, with a look of reverent love up into his face.  “I never forget you in my prayers; never forget to thank God for giving me such a dear, kind father.  Papa, are you never troubled with fears that you might be mistaken in thinking yourself a Christian?  Oh, no!  I am sure not; for how could you be when you are such a good Christian that no one who sees you every day, and knows you as your daughter does, could have the least doubt about it?”

“My daughter looks at me with the partial eyes of filial love,” he replied, tenderly smoothing her hair, “but I too, in view of my sins and shortcomings, am sometimes sorely troubled by doubts and fears.  But then I find peace and happiness in just giving myself anew to Jesus, and asking him to take me for his very own and deliver me from all my sins and fears; then, knowing that he is a hearer and answerer of prayers, I can go on my way rejoicing.  Can you not do the same?”

“Oh, yes, papa, I will.  I remember now that you told me once to do so—­to come then to Him and he would receive me, and I need not trouble about the question whether I had really come before.  And I did and found, oh, such rest and peace!”