“Yes, if the faith be _real_, living faith,” replied Mrs. Temple.
“Are there then two kinds of faith?” inquired Lucius.
“Yes,” answered his mother; “we read in the Bible of two kinds of faith or belief—one dead and one living.”
“I cannot understand that at all,” said Amy.
“I will try to explain,” said the lady “and I ask you, my children, to give me your full attention, for this is a matter of the greatest importance. You all believe, do you not, that there is an Emperor of Germany?”
“Yes, yes,” replied the children: and Elsie added with a little nod, “I believe there is such a man, though I never have seen him.”
“Now does your belief in the existence of the Emperor—that is, your _faith_ in it—does it make the smallest difference in your actions, or words, or feelings?” inquired Mrs. Temple.
“The Emperor does not care for us; he knows nothing about us,” said Elsie.
“Then your faith in the Emperor is a _dead_ faith, it has no effect on your hearts,” observed Mrs. Temple. “And this is the kind of faith which many persons, alas! have in the Lord. They believe in a careless sort of way that Christ once lived in the world, and died on the cross, but they believe only with the head, not with the heart. And this is _dead_ faith, a kind of faith which never can save us.”
“But what is _living_ faith, then?” asked Amy.
“When our belief makes us really love Him who first loved us,—when the thought of Christ’s dying for sin makes us hate sin, that cost Him so dear, then our faith must be living faith; and thus looking to the Lord we are saved.”
Dora sighed and drew her head back again into the shadow. Hers was not a faith that had kept her from sin—hers was not a faith that made her now obey the whisper of conscience, confess her fault to her mother, and make what amends she could for what she had done.
“Depend upon it, that when an Israelite had been cured of his wound by looking at the brazen serpent, he did not go and stroke and play with the fiery reptile that had bitten him,” observed Lucius, who had the clearest head amongst the party, and best entered into the meaning of types.
“No, he would run away from the horrid creatures, or try to kill them; he would put his foot upon the fiery serpents and crush them—crush them,” cried Elsie, stamping her little foot on the hearthrug, to add force to her words.