Winner Stories
Winner Stories
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necessary as an element in education, possibly there is no
evolution possible without it. The father may regret it, but, if
he is wise, knows that it must be. He suffers twice as much as the
child from the infliction of the pain. The AllFather, being at
once allknowing and allloving, can see the end of the education
while we only see it in process, and perhaps exclaim: 'What a
frightful state of things,' or like your favorite 'Stephen
Blackpool,' 'It's all a muddle.'
And the end you consider to be perfection, and eternal union with
God. How can you think immortality probable?
It is the necessary outcome of belief in such a God, such a Father
as we have spoken of. What! Could God have willed that His
children whom He really loves should, after a time, fade utterly
away? If so, He would be less loving than an average earthly
father. If He did indeed love them, and would fain have had them
ever with Him, but could not, then He would not be allpowerful.
I see you a universalist, a great contrast to my Early Father
here, who gloats over the delightful prospect of watching from his
comfortable heaven the tortures of all unbelievers. But, tell me,
what do you think would be our position in your unseen world? I
suppose the mere realization of having given one's life in a
mistaken cause would be about the most terrible pain conceivable?
I think, said Charles Osmond, with one of his grave, quiet
smiles, that death will indeed be your 'gate of life, that seeing
the light you will come to your true self, and exclaim, 'Who'd have
thought it?'
The every day language sounded quaint, it made Erica smile; but
Charles Osmond continued, with a brightness in his eyes which she
was far from understanding: And you know there are to be those who
shall say: 'Lord when saw we Thee in distress and helped Thee?'
They had not recognized Him here, but He recognized them there?
They shared in the 'Come ye blessed of my Father.'
Well, said Erica, thoughtfully, if any Christianity be true, it
must be your loving belief, not the bloodthirsty scheme of the
Calvinists. If THAT could by any possibility be true, I should
greatly prefer, like Kingsley's dear old 'Wulf,' to share hell with
my own people.
The words had scarcely left her lips when, with a startled cry, she
sprung to her feet and hurried to the door. The next moment
Charles Osmond saw Tom pass the window; he was unmistakably the
bearer of bad news.
His first panting words were reassuring Brian says you are not to
be frightened; but they were evidently the mere repetition of a
message. Tom himself was almost hopeless; his wrath and grief
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