It is as though they thought more of the singing than the Everlasting Father.

Oh, would it not be more worship of Him to sit alone in the karoo and kiss one little purple flower that he had made?
Is it not mockery?
Then the thought comes, "What doest thou here, Elijah ?" We who judge, what are we better than they ?--rather worse.

Is it any excuse to say, "I am but a child and must come ?" Does God allow any soul to step in between the spirit he made and himself?
What do we there in that place, where all the words are lies against the All Father?
Filled with horror, we turn and flee out of the place.

On the pavement we smite our foot, and swear in our child's soul never again to enter those places where men come to sing and pray.

We are questioned afterward.