Of hymns Huldah had a greater store in her brain, and by degrees
these ousted the songs as favourites.
"Sing that one about the green hill without any wall round it," Aunt
Emma said one day. "It does mind me so of 'ome when we were
children. Our cottage was just at the foot of a hill like that, and
mother used to turn us out there to play together by the hour.
It was what they call a mountain. We used to dare each other to go
to the top."
"Did you ever do it?" asked Huldah, plaiting away industriously.
"Never; we was so afraid. It was so high up, and the top looked so
far away, and--oh, it used to frighten me! I'd dream at night that I
was lost up there, and I'd call and call, and nobody ever heard me or
came to save me."
"_He'd_ have saved, if you'd asked Him," said Huldah, gravely.
"I wonder why He didn't save Himself," said Aunt Emma. "I spose He
could have, couldn't He?"
"Oh yes, He could, and He could have struck all His enemies down dead
if He'd liked, only He was always one for thinking about others,
never about Himself."
"And that's the sort that always gets put upon," said Aunt Emma,
quickly.
"He died that we might go to Heaven,
He died to make us good,
He died that we might be forgiven--"
Aunt Emma's voice failed, and she suddenly burst into tears.
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