JOSEPH’S mother died when he was quite a little child and shortly after her death his father for soak him. Joseph way taken to the workhouse where he remained some years. He might have been a bright boy had he been loved, and cared for, in a nice home such as most of toy young readers have, but the Union training made little Joseph hard, sullen, and unloving When old enough he left the “House” to earn his bread, and he became an errand bot in a little shop. But Joseph had no idea of obedience, or of yielding to those who were over him; he was just a little block of flesh me bone, with apparently no mind, or feeling of any kind or sort. Nobody cared for him, ark he cared for nobody; the only thing he liked was to idle his time away in the streets with other boys of his own stamp. It is no wonder then, that he soon lost his situation. Joseph, after this, took to the streets altogether, thinking how nice it was to be free. But the poor lad soon found out that he could not live upon air, and that as well as food, he wanted a bed to sleep upon; but this was a great luxury not often indulged in. For two or three years Joseph lived in a very wild manner.
Sometimes he would be in London, some times in the country, or in the gipsy’s camp, with the hop-pickers and haymakers, or on the race course, and he would often tram the country on foot for miles together. You see, dear children, that Joseph’s occupations were very varied, and that he suited himself to his circumstances, without much ado, However, one winter it fared very hard with him, and the poor lad was very nearly starve and frozen to death. Winter is the trying season for the homeless boys. Little Joseph became unwell, and could no longer go about and earn his pence. But God watched over our poor solitary wanderer.
“If I were you, Joe,” said one of his companions, “I’d go the House, you ain’t fit for any work now.”
“Not I,” said Joseph; “not if I know it. I’ll die first, before I goes to the Union again.”
“There’s nothing left for you, then, old boy,” replied his friend, “for a change, but the coffin.”
“I can’t but die once,” said Joseph, in reply to his companion’s strange sympathy.
“I hate the Union. I’ll sooner go to prison right off.”
However, Joseph recovered a little, and one day you might have seen him crawling in the best way he could through the streets. As he passed through Great Queen Street, Lincoln’s Inn, he noticed a house with a large board placed in front, upon which he read, “St, Giles and Bloomsbury Refuge, for Homeless and Destitute Boys.” Joseph believed that he had a claim as well as the rest, and so he rang the bell. He was not troubled with much luggage, as you may suppose, and the master of the Refuge, pitying the boy’s sickly look, took him in at once, and was very kind to him. After a while Joseph improved in health very much; he had at last found a nice little bed to sleep upon, and enough good food to eat. But in manners and temper, Joseph was just the same, not very fond of work, nor even of play. The other lads could not get anything out of him. And if he had any thoughts he kept them for himself to enjoy.
There is no lack of Christian love shown to the boys at the Refuge. And most of all, we try to lead them to know the Lord Jesus, who is a kind Friend and loving Saviour for us all. We seek to lead these poor lads out of their former selves; to show them that, if they seek God’s grace and help, they may become changed altogether. On Sunday evenings there are classes for teaching these lads God’s word. It was at these times that Joseph would sit in his corner of the class, quiet enough, indeed, but perfectly uninterested. Sometimes I would say to him, “Well, my boy, what are you thinking about? you look so solid.”
“Nothing,” he invariably replied.
However, there was at last something which really aroused Joseph. A number of boys were going as emigrants to Canada. And as Joseph had no one to claim him, and as he expressed a great wish to go with the other boys, his name was added to the list. This hope made Joseph really cheerful, and he looked another lad as he listened to the boys, talking all day long of the wonderful things they were going to do and see in their new home. But Joseph was not yet fully recovered from the effects of his exposure to the wintry weather―he complained of pain, and it was thought that a change of air might restore him to health before he went to Canada. So he was sent into the country for some weeks; but it was of no avail, for when he came back, Joseph looked like a little skeleton.
But there was something which struck me more than the alteration in his appearance when I saw him again at the Refuge―the wonderful change from his former silent ways, and the very kind manner in which he spoke to us all.
“Oh, teacher,” he said, when he saw me, “I am so glad to see you. I am very ill, and I fear I shall not go to Canada with the boys; they start next week.”
“My dear Joseph,” I replied, “there is a brighter land than Canada―a land I long to see, a city of pure gold, like unto clear glass. The Builder of that beautiful city is God. Do you guess what place I mean?”
“Yes, teacher, I know; it is heaven.”
“That is it, my boy. You are right; but do you think that you will ever get there?” “I think I will,” said Joseph.
“And what has given you this bright hope, my lad?”
“Because God says in the Bible, ‘When my father and my mother forsake me, the Lord will take me up.’”
“Then do you think, my boy, that because your mother died, and your father forsook you, you will go to heaven”
“Oh, no, teacher; that ain’t quite the thing but because Jesus has took me up, as a poor sinner, and has died for me, that’s why.”
“Did you ask the Lord to take you up, Joseph? When was it? Please tell me all about it,” said I, deeply interested, as you may be sure, to hear such words from dull and indifferent Joseph.
“Teacher,” said he, “it was one Sunday night, after school was over. I went to bed. I felt very miserable. That text, ‘When my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me up,’ was the lesson, and I thought how nice it would be if Jesus would take me up in His arms―take me up, even me!―and love me. I knew I was a bad boy, and a great sinner, but I heard you say many times that Jesus died for wicked sinners. So I thought I would try to pray to God, and ask Him to love me. I made a little prayer, for I could not go to sleep, and said, ‘Oh, God, look down upon me, a poor, sinful boy. I haven’t anybody to love me. Take me up. May Thy Holy Spirit give me a new heart, for Jesus Christ’s sake.’ I thought God heard my prayer, and I fell asleep while I was a-crying. The next morning I felt so happy. I made sure that God had heard me, and forgiven me.”
This was Joseph’s simple story.
As he could not be kept at the Refuge, he was taken to the infirmary of the workhouse, which he so dreaded; but God gently prepared his mind, and gave him grace to submit. On Whit-Monday afternoon I was sitting by his bedside; he turned his little face towards me, and said, “The boys are going to start for Canada this evening; I did think I should have gone with them, but it was not God’s will. Then another thing―I didn’t like to die in this place,” and he could say no more, “But only think, my boy,” I said to him, “how different is your future from that of the boys. They are leaving London for a strange land, where they will find trials and temptations of every sort. Sin and sorrows are to be found in Canada as well as in England; besides this, their own evil hearts will go with them to Canada; and what is to become of them, unless Jesus is with them as their Saviour and their stay? But when I think of your prospect, and of what God says about His home, then all earthly dreams for getting on in this world sink to nothing. Listen, dear boy; you who know something of hardship and suffering here, listen to God’s word about His country. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore; neither shall the sun light upon them, nor any heat. For 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.’
“Then as to your being in this place, which you seem to feel so much, it is just the trial in which you are to glorify God. He could have prevented it if He had thought well but He did not do so; He has allowed it just to teach you obedience to His will. You must then remember your dear Lord, who pleased not Himself, but was obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. What a shameful, cruel death His was. ‘Oh! think of Calvary, and see there the Lamb of God, willingly dying for your sins.’” Joseph spoke no more then, but looked at me with gratitude and love. A little while after, he repeated, slowly, “For me―for me.”
I was obliged to leave the poor boy, but I knew he was safe in the arms of Jesus. In the evening, I met the emigrant lads at the Euston Station to bid them farewell. As they were entering into the railway carriages for their journey to their new home, dear Joseph reached the Golden City above—the Lord had taken him up. J. L. M. V.