DAISY IS a little girl seven years old — such a happy, rosy-cheeked child, and she loves fun as much as any little girl I know. One afternoon as we were coming home from our Sunday school, and she was skipping along at my side, I asked her, “Does my little friend Daisy love Jesus?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I do!”
“But why do you love Him?” I asked.
She looked up in my face as if quite surprised I should ask such a question, and then, with a bright, happy smile on her face, and in a tone full of glad certainty, she said, “Why do I love Jesus? Because He loved me so much before I loved Him, and He died for me.”
ML-09/08/1963