Chapter XIV: The Midnight A, B, C

"I HATE learning Scripture! At least—I don't like it—or see the good of it," said Robbie, his eager tone diminishing as he got through his sentence, and his eyes met those of his father's, a patient invalid, sitting by the fire.

If there was one person Robbie was devoted to, it was his father. So while he was speaking, his eyes turned naturally to those quiet grey ones, which had looked out on the world so tenderly for so many years.

He pushed his school Bible away, and went over and stroked the cramped thin hand, looking inquiringly into the dear face.

"Yes, Robbie, I understand that. I mean, that I remember the days when I thought it a great task to learn Scripture."

"Well—is there any good?" asked Robbie, hesitating, "I don't mean in reading it, of course, but in learning it by heart—just like a parrot?"

"You have given me a good many questions to answer in that one sentence," said his father, fondly, "but I'll answer one first. It is good; I only wish I had learned more."

Robbie opened his eyes wide.

"Sometimes I try to see how many Psalms and chapters, or portions, I can say through, but I am always sorry there are not more—"

"Why? You can read them yourself."

"Sometimes—but there are twilight hours, and the long dark night, and then I can't read; and it is an inexpressible comfort to be able to repeat to myself."

"Do you learn any now, father?"

"Not as easily as I used, and with great pains, too. Over and over. We don't learn so quickly when we are older."

"Oh, I see," said Robbie, looking into the fire meditatively.

"So learn your daily verse cheerfully, my boy, and say, 'It will be a comfort to me by and by.'"

"And the parrot?" asked Robbie, smiling a little.

"He only repeats without thinking; we have a better reason than that, 'Thy word have I hid in my heart, that I might not sin against Thee.'"

Robbie stroked the loved hand again; a touch of love which his father perfectly understood.

"Shall I tell you another thing I do, when I am ill, or the night seems long?"

His father spoke cheerily, and the boy looked up.

"I take the old game, 'I love my love with an A,' and turn it into a help to bring me nearer my God!"

"I can't see how," said Robbie.

"I say to myself, when I am weary or wakeful, 'I adore my God with an A, because He is "Abundantly able to save."'"

"'I adore my God with a B, because He says, "Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world."'"

"Oh, like 'capping verses,'" said Robbie, smiling again.

"Something like; but my way gives more scope. I never get tired of it. If I can't think of a verse beginning with C, for instance, I say, 'I adore my God with a C, because He has said, "I will not leave you Comfortless,"' and so to the end of the alphabet."

"There aren't many Z's, I should think?"

"Enough to give me a feast. 'Zacchaeus, come down, for to-day I must abide at thy house,' or 'I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord.' There, Robbie!"

"And what do you do for X?"

"Ah! Yes; I use the verses where there are 'Excepts,' and call them—like this—'I will not let Thee go 'Xcept Thou bless me.'"

"Oh, I see! That's good!"

"Now, let me hear you say your verses for this week, and we'll soon learn them together—you will, faster than I shall."

Robbie went back to fetch his Bible, and soon, as his father said, the six verses which he had learnt separately every day came into one whole, and he could say them off.

He gave a great sigh, and then with a kiss on his father's forehead, he bounded off to play.

But he never forgot that day.