of God's love to us personally must take the selfishness out of our
good works, because what we do will be done just simply from love to
Christ. It is a beautiful way of looking at God's dealings with us."
"Yes, Grace; and as true and scriptural as it is beautiful. It is just
what God sees that we need, and furnishes us with the most constraining
motive to serve him, and to deny self in his service."
"I see it," said Miss Willerly sadly and thoughtfully, after a pause.
"I very much fear, dear Mary, that I have been greatly deceiving myself.
I have been just simply building up a monument to my own honour and
glory out of my heap of little daily crosses."
"Nay, dear Grace, you are dealing too severely with yourself."
"No, I think not. At any rate, I am sadly aware that not the love of
Christ, but the love of human applause, has been the constraining motive
in my acts of self-denial. I have made such a parade of my willingness
to thwart my own will that I might please others, so that while I should
have been startled to see a full-grown trumpeter at my side proclaiming
my unselfishness, I have all the while been keeping in my service a
little dwarf page, who has been sounding out my praises on his shrill
whistle."
"You judge yourself hardly, dear Grace; and yet, no doubt, self does
enter largely even into our unselfishness. I am sure I have felt it,
oh, how deeply! And specially just lately, since I have undertaken this
work at Bridgepath."
"You, dear Mary!"
"Yes, indeed. And I see now how wisely our heavenly Father ordered his
discipline in my case. There was indeed a `needs-be' in my dear aunt's
former harshness and irritability to me; but for that, and for her
disparaging remarks on my conduct, I might have been more self-seeking
than I am. But the discipline has been changed now, and I trust that
the chastisement has not been wholly in vain. What we all want, I am
sure, if we are to be true workers for God, is to lift our eyes from
self, and keep them steadily fixed on Him who has done so much for us."
"I am sure you are right," said the other. "I know I wish to do right,
and I feel a pleasure in crossing my own inclination when it will
gratify others; but then my inmost look has been to the world and its
approbation. `What will people say? What will people think?' or, at
any rate, `What will good people say and think?' this has been the
prominent thought in my heart, I fear."
"Well, de
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