ONE hot summer evening the dark clouds and, presently, the vivid flashes of lightning disclosed the approaching storm. Soon the thunder crashed overhead, and the forked lightning blazed forth with awful brilliancy.
Mrs. H. was standing by the bedside of her little five-year-old boy, who was watching the lightning play around his bed.
As flash after flash flew past her the child’s mother grew fearful, when her little son turned his large blue eyes upon her and said, “Isn’t it bright, mother? is God lighting the lamps?”
The mother’s heart was touched at the childish question, and all fear forsook her; she felt that God who allows the storm is greater than it. Her child’s trust had rebuked her fears. H. D.