Oh, I wish I was dead! I wish I was dead! I can't bear to live and be a cripple!" "Dear Molly, don't cry, don't feel so dreadfully about it!" Elsie said, weeping with her.

"Jesus will help you to bear it; he loves you, and is sorrier for you than anybody else is; and he won't let you be sick or in pain in heaven." "No, he doesn't love me! I'm not good enough; and if he did, he wouldn't have let me get such a dreadful fall." Little Elsie was perplexed for the moment, and knew not what to answer.
"Couldn't he have kept me from falling ?" demanded Molly, almost fiercely.
"Yes, he can do everything." "Then I hate him for letting me fall!" Elsie was inexpressibly shocked.

"Oh, Molly!" in an awed, frightened tone, was all that she could say.
"I'm awfully wicked, I know I am; but I can't help it.

Why did he let me fall?
I couldn't bear to let a dog be so dreadfully hurt, if I could help it!" "Molly, the Bible says 'God is love.' And in another place, 'God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' 'God commendeth his love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.' He must have loved you, Molly, when he died that dreadful death to save you." "Not me." "Yes, if you will believe.

'Whosoever believeth.'" "It was just for everybody in a lump," said Molly, sighing wearily.