An evangelist in the country once called at a cottage and asked the lady within if she could read. He wished to lend her a little book called "Christ The Only Refuge."
"No, sir," she replied, "I cannot read; but I have a little boy, nine years old, who can read. But he is sick in bed."
"Well, give him this little book, and ask him to read it. I will call for it another time."
When he called again the mother burst into tears.
"Sir, my boy is dead," she said, and has left you this halfpenny."
"And did he read the book?"
"Sir, he read it till he could repeat the whole of it. He talked of nothing else till he died. And to the last he begged that I would not give you the book when you called; but to thank you and give you this halfpenny for it.
"And he begged that I would learn to read that little book. Just as he died he cried out: "Mother, Christ is my only refuge! Christ is my only refuge! Do not part with the book; it will do for my father."
On Christ the solid Rock I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.