He will have no rest to-night because of the injury he has done you.
He is a very wretched man, Stephen.' 'I wouldn't change with him for all his money,' said Stephen pityingly.
'Stephen,' continued Miss Anne, 'you say you pray for my uncle, and I believe you do; but do you never feel a kind of spite and hatred against him in your very prayers?
Have you never seemed to enjoy telling our Father how very evil he is ?' 'Yes,' said the boy, hanging down his head, and wondering how Miss Anne could possibly know that.
'Ah, Stephen,' she continued, 'God requires of us something more than such prayers.

He bids us really and truly to love our enemies--love which He only can know of, because it is He who seeth in secret and into the inmost secrets of our hearts.

I may hear you pray for your enemies, and see you try to do them good; but He alone can tell whether of a truth you love them.' 'I cannot love them as I love you and little Nan,' replied Stephen.
'Not with the same kind of love,' said Miss Anne; 'in us there is something for your love to take hold of and feed upon.

"But if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye?
do not even the publicans the same ?" Your affection for us is the kind that sinners can feel; it is of this earth, and is earthly.

But to love our enemies is heavenly; it is Christ-like, for He died for us while we were _yet_ sinners.