Ear and eye, touch and
smell, were alike invaded with blessedness. I ought to have kept this to
give my reader in Connie's room; but he shall share with her presently. The
sense of space--of mighty room for life and growth--filled my soul, and I
thanked God in my heart. The wind seemed to bear that growth into my soul,
even as the wind of God first breathed into man's nostrils the breath of
life, and the sun was the pledge of the fulfilment of every aspiration. I
turned and looked at Wynnie. She stood pleased but listless amidst that
which lifted me into the heaven of the Presence.
"Don't you enjoy all this grandeur, Wynnie?"
"I told you I was very wicked, papa."
"And I told you not to say so, Wynnie."
"You see I cannot enjoy it, papa. I wonder why it is."
"I suspect it is because you haven't room, Wynnie."
"I know you mean something more than I know, papa."
"I mean, my dear, that it is not because you are wicked, but because you do
not know God well enough, and therefore your being, which can only live in
him, is 'cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in.' It is only in him that the
soul has room. In knowing him is life and its gladness.
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