//at* 
 
 THE GOD IN 
 YOUR HOME 
 
 By 
 
 Mrs. E. C. Cronk 
 
 THE INTERCHURCH WORLD MOVEMENT 
 
 OF NORTH AMERICA 
 
 111 Fifth Avenue New York City 
 
Price : 2 cents each, 20 cents 
 per dozen, $1.00 per hundred 
 
THE GOD IN YOUR HOME 
 
 [HE was a dainty slip of a Japanese 
 k girl. Her bright, wondering, almond 
 
 ' eyes looked out in interested query at 
 
 all things in the great, wonderful America. 
 Eagerly she studied at the American College. 
 The girls called her Cherry Blossom, for she 
 seemed like a bloom from her favorite cherry 
 tree, blown across the ocean by a wind from 
 her own Sunrise Land. “She fairly absorbs 
 knowledge and adopts our American customs 
 in the most charming way,” wrote Ethel 
 Clarkson to her mother, when she was 
 begging permission to bring Cherry Blossom 
 home with her for the holidays. When 
 Christmas time came, dainty little Cherry 
 Blossom was all aglow over the thought of 
 spending the holidays with Ethel in her 
 beautiful American home. She had been in- 
 side the great schools and colleges in 
 America. She had seen the art galleries and 
 the public buildings. She had been in many 
 churches, but the thing she longed most of 
 all to see, on the inside, was a Christian 
 home. 
 
 That first Christmas time in America was a 
 wonderful holiday season to the little Cherry 
 Blossom from Japan, but soon the last of 
 those vacation days came. Mrs. Clarkson 
 stood in her library with her hands on the 
 shoulders of the little Japanese girl she had 
 learned to love as a daughter. 
 
 “Now tell me before you go, you dear 
 little Cherry Blossom,” she asked playfully, 
 “how you like the way we American folks 
 live. Are you homesick for a real, genuine 
 bow? Are you weary of sitting on chairs, 
 and sleeping in beds, and wearing shoes all 
 day long and being bothered with knives, 
 forks and spoons?” 
 
 The girl laughed merrily. 
 
“Oh, I love it,” she said, clapping her 
 hands. “It is such fun trying to decide 
 which spoon to take up the next one. Your 
 home is wonderful.” 
 
 Then her eyes grew suddenly wistful. 
 
 “But — she said, and hesitated. 
 
 “But what.” said Mrs. Clarkson encourag- 
 ingly. 
 
 “There’s one thing I miss,” said the girl, 
 with a far away look in her eyes, “that makes 
 your home seem queer to me. You know I 
 have been with you to your church and I 
 have seen you worship your God there. But 
 I have missed the God in your home. You 
 know, in Japan we have a god-shelf in every 
 house with the gods right there in our 
 homes. Do not any Americans worship their 
 God in their homes?” 
 
 All during the afternoon Mrs. Clarkson was 
 strangely silent. The innocent question of 
 her departing Japanese guest had gone 
 straight to her heart with an overwhelming 
 accusation. Back over the busy years her 
 thoughts flew io those days when she first 
 had a home of her own, and a time and a 
 place for the worship of God in her home. 
 Then the thousand distractions of a large 
 household and a busy life had crowded in, 
 and the God in her home had been crowded 
 out. She had not meant that it should be so. 
 As she thought of it all a great longing filled 
 her heart and the light of a firm conviction 
 filled her eyes. That day she talked with 
 each member of her family alone, and that 
 night the altar of her God was set up again 
 in her home. 
 
 There it was that the little Cherry Blossom 
 from Japan on her next vacation visit, found 
 the God in that home and gave her heart to 
 Him. 
 
 No. 256. I. 50. Dec. 1919.