Stepping Heavenward: Now on Sale!

Stepping Heavenward by Elizabeth Prentiss is now on sale! 

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Stepping Heavenward
Reg. $9.95          Sale: $5.97!

Elizabeth Prentiss. This classic spiritual work is an intimate journal of Katherine, a 16-year old young lady who struggles with daily life just as we do. Her life is a constant struggle to “step heavenward” as she deals with disappointment, heartache, and tragedy. Many girls and women find they can easily identify with Katherine. This treasure of womanly counsel is perfect for any young woman with a heart’s desire to know God. Many have testified that reading this book was a life-changing experience for them.
341 pp. Paperback. Sale price: $5.97

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An Excerpt from Stepping Heavenward:

When I got home mother called me into her room. She looked as if she
had been crying. She said I gave her a great deal of pain by my
self-will and ill temper and conceit.

“Conceit!” I screamed out. “Oh, mother, if you only knew how horrid I
think I am!”

Mother smiled a little. Then she went on with her list till she made
me out the worst creature in the world. I burst out crying, and was
running off to my room, but she made me come back and hear the rest.
She said my character would be essentially formed by the time I
reached my twentieth year, and left it to me to say if I wished to be
as a woman what I was now as a girl. I felt sulky, and would not
answer. I was shocked to think I had got only four years in which to
improve, but after all a good deal could be done in that time. Of
course I don’t want to be always exactly what I am now.

Mother went on to say that I had in me the elements of a fine
character if I would only conquer some of my faults. “You are frank
and truthful,” she said, “and in some things conscientious. I hope
you are really a child of God, and are trying to please Him. And it
is my daily prayer that you may become a lovely, loving, useful
woman.”

I made no answer. I wanted to say something, but my tongue wouldn’t
move. I was angry with mother, and angry with myself. At last
everything came out all in a rush, mixed up with such floods of tears
that I thought mother’s heart would melt, and that she would take
back what she had said.

“Amelia’s mother never talks so to her!” I said. “She praises her,
and tells her what a comfort she is to her. But just as I am trying
as hard as I can to be good, and making resolutions, and all that,
you scold me and discourage me!”

Mother’s voice was very soft and gentle as she asked, “Do you call
this ‘scolding,’ my child?”

“And I don’t like to be called conceited,” I went on. “I know I am
perfectly horrid, and I am just as unhappy as I can be.”

“I am very sorry for you, dear,” mother replied. “But you must bear
with me. Other people will see your faults, but only your mother will
have the courage to speak of them. Now go to your own room, and wipe
away the traces of your tears that the rest of the family may not
know that you have been crying on your birthday.”

She kissed me but I did not kiss her. I really believe Satan himself hindered me. I ran across the hall to my room, slammed the door, and locked myself in.

I was going to throw myself on the bed and cry till I was sick. Then I
should look pale and tired, and they would all pity me. I do like so
to be pitied! But on the table, by the window, I saw a beautiful new
desk in place of the old clumsy thing I had been spattering and
spoiling so many years. A little note, full of love, said it was from
mother, and begged me to read and reflect upon a few verses of a
tastefully bound copy of the Bible, which accompanied it every day of
my life. “A few verses,” she said, “carefully read and pondered,
instead of a chapter or two read for mere form’s sake.” I looked at
my desk, which contained exactly what I wanted, plenty of paper,
seals, wax and pens. I always use wax. Wafers are vulgar. Then I
opened the Bible at random, and lighted on these words:

“Watch, therefore, for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come.”
There was nothing very cheering in that. I felt a real repugnance to
be always on the watch, thinking I might die at any moment. I am sure
I am not fit to die. Besides I want to have a good time, with nothing
to worry me. I hope I shall live ever so long. Perhaps in the course
of forty or fifty years I may get tired of this world and want to
leave it. And I hope by that time I shall be a great deal better than
I am now, and fit to go to heaven.