A GENTLEMAN who was a professed Christian was taken seriously ill. He became much troubled about the little love he felt in his heart for God, and spoke of his experience to a friend. This is how the friend answered him: “When I go home from here, I expect to take my baby on my knee, look into her sweet eyes, listen to her charming prattle, and, tired as I am, her presence will rest me;3for I love that child with unutterable tenderness. But she loves me little. If my heart were breaking, it would not disturb her sleep. If my body were racked with pain, it would not interrupt her play. If I were dead, she would forget me in a few days. Besides this, she has never brought me a penny, but was a constant expense to me. I am not rich, but there is not money enough in the world to buy my baby. How is it? Does she love me? or do I love her? Do I withhold my love until I know she loves me? Am I waiting for her to do something worthy of my love before extending it?” This practical illustration of the love of God for His children caused the tears to roll down the sick man’s face. “O, I see,” he exclaimed, “it is not my love to God, but God’s love for me, that I should be thinking of. And I do love Him now as I never loved him before.” “Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us.” 1 John 4:10.—Anon.