There is such a calling out through the pages of the Journal for the little child to lead to the perfect praise of the Father, that I am irresistibly drawn to add to the sweet note of praise welling up from the pure heart of innocence, until the light of Life shines out so clearly through their sayings.
Before coming into the freedom of Christian Science I was of the strictest sect, an Hydropathist and Hygienist. After taking lessons from one of the normal students, I laid all former beliefs on the altar of Truth, hoping they would instantly be burned.
Soon after my return home my little son Paul was using a very sharp saw. The stick, he intended to cut, slipped, and the force of the stroke cut the boy's thumb lengthwise, seemingly to the bone. The blood jetted out in an alarming way, the child crying out piteously,"O! mamma, mamma, it hurts so! it hurts so!" I caught up a large cloth and was making ready to bind it up in cold water cloths, when the voice of Truth came, "You know better than that." I put the cold water aside, but placed the dry cloth about his hand; it was soon saturated with blood. Another was placed about it, then I turned away from the paling face and went to an open door. Then Truth came with its reassuring voice, and with my whole heart believing I uttered the saving Truth: "His Life is God and does not dwell in blood." Soon he exclaimed, "Mamma, it has quit hurting now." Before the child went to bed I removed the cloth, and behold, the cut was cemented closely together. He looked at it with strange wonder, saying, "This is some of God's sticking plaster."
