ARE you going to tell us another story, aunt Fanny?" Wilfrid Gray asked, as aunt Fanny entered the playroom. "Hilda and I think it is such an interesting way to learn the meaning of Bible verses.”
“Yes, Wilfrid," was the ready answer. "As your text this morning was a great help and comfort to John Falk for many years of his useful life, I think Hilda and yourself would like to hear how God raised him up to be a friend and father to a number of orphan children. But before I tell you his story, I want you to look for a moment at the marginal reading in my reference Bible. Will you read it for us please, Wilfrid?”
“Is this what you mean, aunt Fanny? The word singing is printed in small writing letters, almost opposite our verse?”
“Yes, Wilfrid, how good it is of God to comfort His often sad and weary children by telling them of a time when they shall have songs instead of sighing. We all know what it is to weep, but there are many causes for tears being shed. I should like you to tell me some of the reasons for crying.”
“Eva Day cried very much when her little brother Willie died, and I cried one day when I had the toothache," Wilfrid added, looking as if he hardly liked making the confession.
“Yes, Wilfrid, and don't you remember how mother cried when uncle James sent a letter to tell her how very ill grandmamma was, last winter, and I cry sometimes when I am naughty," the little girl owned with flushed cheeks and tear-filled eyes.
“I think," said aunt Fanny, "you have told me why most tears are shed. Death, pain, sorrow, and sin, are always causing tears to flow. The children of God know what it is to suffer and weep like others. But they know too that a day is coming when ‘God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.' (Rev. 7:1717For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. (Revelation 7:17).) So they know their sorrow will only last for a little while.”
“Now are you quite ready to hear the story of John Falk?”
“Oh, yes, aunt Fanny, but please will you begin at the beginning and tell us about him when he was a little boy? I always like to hear about the schooldays of good or great men," Wilfrid said eagerly.
“I wish I could show you a picture of the strange-looking old house with its many small windows, and its gabled roof, where, in the year 1768, John Falk was born. It stood near the Fishgate in the busy German town of Dantzic. His father, whose trade of a wig-maker was carried on at home, was a man who feared God, but was so grave and silent in his ways, that his children never felt free to laugh or talk much in his presence.
“His mother, a woman of a meek and quiet spirit, was a good housekeeper, and though all through the day her hands were full, often in the evening hours, as she sat at her spinning-wheel, she would amuse and instruct her children by telling them stories. I think the one John liked best was how, when she herself was a little girl, she was in danger of being eaten by a pack of wolves, but, through the mercy of God, escaped.
“John was not a bit like his father,' his mother would say sometimes, with a sigh and a shake of the head; but, perhaps, she loved her bright merry boy none the less on that account.
“John was very fond of play, he was good at tops and marbles; but he loved books too, and few things pleased him more than to borrow from some friend or neighbor books of voyage or travel. Then he would go down to the harbor, and watch the sailors busy at their work, and long for the time to come when he should be old enough to sail over the deep blue sea, and visit the foreign countries about which he loved to read.
“He was only ten years of age when his father decided to take him from school and set him to work at his own trade. John said with many tears he did not wish to be a wig-maker, he would much rather be a sailor, and his mother begged hard that he might have another year's schooling. But all in vain, Mr. Falk only shook his head, and said, ‘No, John is too fond of reading already, he must begin work at once, he will never make a good workman if he does not learn his trade while he is young.'
“So John left school and became his father's apprentice. The next few years of the boy's life were far from being happy ones. Perhaps he did not put his heart into his duties, and often vexed his father by spoiling his work, or loitering when sent on an errand. His father often punished him severely, but all the scoldings and beatings the boy got, only seemed to make him more determined if it were possible to get an education.
“Once he left home, having made up his mind to run away. But he had not gone far before he stopped to listen to the playing of an organ. John Falk was very fond of music. The tune he heard was that of a hymn which his mother often sang with her children on Sunday evenings. And with the thought of his mother came the memory of Bible words she had taught him: ‘Honor thy father and thy mother.' (Ex. 20:1212Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. (Exodus 20:12).) God, he felt sure, would not bless his leaving home if he went in self-will and disobedience, so he gave up thinking about it, and made haste back to his father's workshop.
“After a time some of his father's best customers began to take notice of the bright-looking boy who was always so civil and pleasant in his manners.
“One of them, an English gentleman, to John's great delight was able to persuade his father to let him attend a class held twice a week at his house, where a few sons of well-to-do families were taught English. But his fellow-pupils were not very kind to him. John could not afford to buy all the books he needed, and they would not lend or even allow him to learn a lesson out of theirs.
“But his teacher kindly gave him one or two old books, and John made such good use of his time, that, at the end of a year, he took the first prize.
“Brighter days followed. Some of the chief men in Dantzic said John should be sent to college at their expense.
“We may be sure that he was much pleased. When the day came on which he was to leave home, he got a message telling him to go to the room where a meeting of the town council was being held. John, when he entered, felt shy and nervous, but he was received kindly, and an aged man, laying his hand on the boy's head, said, ‘Go, my son, and may the blessing of God rest upon you. One thing only, if a poor child should ever knock at your door, think it is we, the old gray-headed burgomasters of Dantzic, and do not send us away.'
“I cannot stay to tell you much about the student life of John Falk, only one thing that happened to him, he became a Christian, and very really and truly longed to please and honor the good Master whom he served.
“Years passed away, John Falk was a middle-aged man, much looked up to and respected by the people of the town in which he lived. God had blessed him in all things. He had a happy home; six merry children called him father, and many widows and orphans could tell how in times of need he had given them food and clothing.
“But God, whose ways are not as our ways, was about to lead His servant through sorrow, to the great work of his life.
“A fever broke out near his house, and many died. Four out of the six children of Mr. and Mrs. Falk, in less than a month were carried to their graves. As the parents returned from the funeral of the fourth-a darling child whose love had been very precious to those sorrowing hearts-they were met by some little children who were begging. They looked cold and hungry; the mourners began to talk to them, and found that they were orphans. John Falk looked up and, smiling through his tears, said to his wife, ‘Joy cometh in the morning.' God who has taken our darlings to Himself, now sends us these poor orphans. Shall not we receive them in His name, and for the love of Christ our Lord and Savior?
“Mrs. Falk was quite willing, and from that day their house became a house where many orphans—some of them boys who had been in prison—were fed, clothed, and taught trades by which to earn an honest living; but better still, numbers of them were led to a saving knowledge of Christ.
“But we must not stay to talk any more now, for hark, the dinner bell is ringing!”
“Oh, aunt Fanny, we did not think it was so late," said both children at once, and then they ran off to take their places at the table for the mid-day meal.