"Mademoiselle, what does that mean? I confess I cannot understand it."
She read—"'I see my abyss of pride, of curiosity, of sin. There is no connection between me and God, or the holy Jesus Christ. But he has been made sin for me; by his wounds we are healed. He has healed himself, and therefore assuredly he will heal me. I must place my wounds upon his, must give myself to him, and he will save me with himself.'"
Clémence paused a while. "I think it means," she said at last very reverently, "that the Lord Jesus Christ has taken our sins upon him, and put himself in our place. We should be quite overwhelmed when we come to see the 'abyss' of sin that is within us, if we did not know he had done so. But he has taken our sin and bound it about him like a robe, that we may take his righteousness and stand before the Father robed in that." This, however, was a height beyond the range of her own ordinary spiritual experience. So she added presently, with an involuntary sigh, "If only we are numbered amongst his redeemed."
"It is very wonderful," answered Ivan thoughtfully. "Of course I always knew the blessed Lord died for our sins," he added, crossing himself; "but I never felt that there was any 'abyss' of sin within me. Do you think, mademoiselle, that one must feel that in order to be really religious?"
"I think we cannot know the grace of Christ without knowing our own sin," Clémence answered. "But, monsieur, look at these words also; I think you will find them easier to understand." She turned to another page of the book, and read—"'Console thyself; thou wouldst not be seeking Me, if I had not already found thee.'"
Ivan pondered. "Found thee?" he repeated. "As the shepherd in the gospel found the lost sheep? But perhaps the sheep never knew how far he had wandered; certainly he never was able to tell. That is a comfort. I like, too, to think of
