Little Betty was left in the parlor for a few minutes with a man who had come to see her father. She was rather shy, but as she saw the man sitting there with nobody to talk to she thought she should do something about it. She went and picked up her father’s Bible and took it over to the stranger. “Would you like to read a little hit from this while you are waiting? It is my father’s book. I don’t often see him reading any other,” she said.
I hope there is a Bible in your home that is used every day. It is a good thing if the Bible is your father’s favorite book, hut it is better still if you can say, “It is my book.”
Betty grew up, and at twelve years of age she accepted the Lord Jesus as her own Saviour, and then the Bible became her book as it had been her father’s.
Perhaps there are many things in God’s wonderful book which you cannot understand. Maybe there are words there which are too long for you to read. But you will find there the sweetest story in all the world—the story of Jesus’ love in dying for sinners.
ML 12/03/1950