But alas for poor Annie and her chapel-going! As she was creeping
slowly up from step to step in the dark, the feeling came over her that
it was no longer against rats, nor yet against evil things dwelling in
the holes and corners of a neglected human world, that she had to pray.
A spiritual terror was seated on the throne of the universe, and was
called God--and to whom should she pray against it? Amidst the
darkness, a deeper darkness fell.
She knelt by her bedside, but she could not lift up her heart; for was
she not one of them that forget God? and was she not therefore wicked?
and was not God angry with her every day? Was not the fact that she
could not pray a certain proof that she was out of God's favour, and
counted unworthy of his notice?
But there was Jesus Christ: she would cry to him. But did she believe
in him? She tried hard to convince herself that she did; but at last
she laid her weary head on the bed, and groaned in her young despair.
At the moment a rustling in the darkness broke the sad silence with a
throb of terror. She started to her feet. She was exposed to all the
rats in the universe now, for God was angry with her, and she could not
pray.
Pages:
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229