him that serveth God and him that serveth
him not."

"'_Then_,' -- in that day," -- thought Elizabeth, "I can discern
between them now, without waiting for that. -- Winthrop
Landholm is one that serveth God -- I am one that serve him
not. There is difference enough, I can see now -- but this
speaks of the difference at that day; another sort of
difference. -- Then I ought to be a servant of God --"

The obligation was pretty plain.

"Well, I will, when I find out how," -- she began. But
conscience checked her.

"This is not the first chapter of Matthew," she said then. "I
will go back to that."

Her eye fell lower, to the words,

"But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of Righteousness
arise with healing in his wings."

The tears started to Elizabeth's eyes. "This is that same who
will save his people from their sins, -- is it? -- and that is
his healing? Oh, I want it! -- There is too much difference
between me and them. He shall save his people from their sins,
-- I have plenty, -- plenty. But how? -- and what shall I do? It
don't tell me here."

It did not; yet Elizabeth could not pass on. She was honest;
she felt an obligation, arising from these words, which yet
she did not at once recognize. It stayed her. She must do
something -- what could she do? It was a most unwelcome answer
that at last slid itself into her mind. _Ask_ to be made one of
'his people' -- or to be taught how to become one? Her very
soul started. _Ask?_ -- but now the obligation stood full and
strong before her, and she could cease to see it no more. _Ask?_
-- why she never did such a thing in her whole life as ask God
to do anything for her. Not of her own mind, at her own
choice, and in simplicity; her thoughts and feelings had
perhaps at some time joined in prayers made by another, and in
church, and in solemn time. But here? with the blue sky over
her, in broad day, and in open air? It did not seem like
praying time. Elizabeth shut her book. Her heart beat. Duty
and she were at a struggle now; she knew which must give way,
but she was not ready yet. It never entered her head to
question the power or the will to which she must apply
herself, no more than if she had been a child. Herself she
doubted; she doubted not him. Elizabeth knew very little of
his works or word, beyond a vague general outline, got from
sermons; but she knew one servant of God. That servant
glorified him; and in the light which she saw and lov