"Good-morning, my darlings," she said, turning from the window to embrace
them. "All well and bright! Ah, how good our heavenly Father is to us!"
"Yes, mamma, it is like my text," said wee Elsie, "We have each a short
one this morning. Mine is, 'God is love.'"
Mamma had sat down and taken Violet on her lap, while Elsie and Eddie
stood one on each side.
Three lovelier children fond mother never looked upon. Elsie, now seven
years old, was her mother's miniature. Eddie, a bright manly boy of five,
had Mr. Dinsmore's dark eyes and hair, firm mouth and chin; but the rest
of his features, and the expression of countenance, were those of his own
father. Violet resembled both her mother and the grandmother whose name
she bore; she was a blonde, with exquisitely fair complexion, large deep
blue eyes, heavily fringed with curling lashes several shades darker than
the ringlets of pale gold that adorned the pretty head.
"True, beautiful words," the mother said, in reply to her little daughter;
"'God is love!' Never forget it, my darlings; never forget to thank Him
for His love and goodness to you; never fear to trust His love and care.
Can you tell me, dear, of some of His good gifts to you?"
"Our dear, kind mamma and papa," answered Eddie quickly, leaning
affectionately against her, his dark eyes lifted to her face, full of
almost passionate affection.
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