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A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
49
"He
is
alive!
He
loves
me!
He
will
tell
me
how
to
be
good!"
I
said
it
over
to
myself,
but
not
to
anybody
else.
I
was
sure
that
I
loved
Him.
It
was
like
a
beautiful
secret
between
us
two.
I
felt
Him
so
alive
and
so
near!
He
wanted
me
to
be
good,
and
I
could
be,
I
would
be,
for
his
sake.
That
stranger
never
knew
how
his
loving
word
had
touched
a
child's
heart.
The
doors
of
the
Father's
house
were
opened
wide
again,
by
the
only
hand
that
holds
the
key.
The
world
was
all
bright
and
fresh
once
more.
It
was
as
if
the
May
sun
had
suddenly
wakened
the
flowers
in
an
overshadowed
wayside
nook.
I
tried
long
afterward,
thinking
that
it
was
my
duty,
to
build
up
a
wall
of
difficult
doctrines
over
my
spring
blossoms,
as
if
they
needed
protection.
But
the
sweet
light
was
never
wholly
stifled
out,
though
I
did
not
always
keep
my
face
turned
towards
it:
and
I
know
now,
that
just
to
let
his
lifegiving
smile
shine
into
the
soul
is
better
than
any
of
the
theories
we
can
invent
about
Him;
and
that
only
so
can
young
or
old
receive
the
kingdom
of
God
as
a
little
child.
I
believe
that
one
great
reason
for
a
child's
love
of
hymns,
such
as
mine
was,
is
that
they
are
either
addressed
to
a
Person,
to
the
Divine
Person,--or
they
bring
Him
before
the
mind
in
some
distinct
way,
instead
of
being
written
upon
a
subject,
like
a
sermon.
To
make
Him
real
is
the
only
way
to
make
our
own
spirits
real
to
ourselves.
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