Going to Church July 1921

On my way to church one morning I met four little girls under school age, bareheaded in private checked prints enjoying themselves in the sunshine. One of them carried a bunch of blue harebells. She stopped and held out a flower to me calling me by name. (I didn’t know her but she had true vision and knew that I loved flowers and children).

The bells were at their last tinkle and I had time merely to me to pause and ask where did you get those lovely flowers as I took the blossom from her. But the four stood in a semi circle and smiled at me in that heavenly way that young children have of reminding us that we have grown out of the way of true fellowship.

The blue bell lay on the book board and my eye wandered to it when the preacher got involved in formulas to which I did not give assent. I kept thinking that the religion I could best follow was love of my neighbours and love of children. Its very simplicity is the great stumbling block.

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