Many people passing through the little town of M. would linger as they reached Rose Cottage to admire its sweet beauty. Scarcely anywhere could such roses be found as those covering the walls of the cottage and filling its garden, and many remarked that surely perfect peace and happiness reigned there!
It was so, until on one lovely June day the blinds of the windows were drawn, and the happy laughing children of that home were left fatherless, and their gentle, sweet-faced mother a widow. More than ever the children clung to her and to each other, while Gordon, the elder son, strove manfully to take father’s place as far as he possibly could.
Two years passed, and on a day in June again there were sad faces, as Gordon stood, with suitcase ready, while his mother, sisters and brother drew around him to say “good-bye.” Gordon was leaving the dear old home for the great city some two hundred miles distant, to start life’s battle himself, and gain a position which would enable him to lift much of the burden of the family from his mother’s, to his own stronger shoulders.
The last “good-bye” and kiss was for his mother, and the last wave of the hand for Annie, the dear invalid sister whom he specially loved. She was a real Christian, and on the previous night, after everyone had retired, Gordon had made his way to her room. That hour together would never be forgotten by him. For weeks Annie had worked hard, so that every possible comfort in the way of clothing might be ready for her brother, and he slipped into her room to thank her again.
“I am so glad you have come in, dear Gordon,” she said. “I knew you would, and now I want you to make me a promise—will you?”
“Yes, my sister, I will. What is it?” Pressing into his hand a little pocket Bible, she said,
“That is my special parting gift, and I want you to promise to read a portion of it every day, no matter what may be the rush of your new life; for O! Gordon, if you read even a small portion each day, you will find your Lord in it, and so you will never forget Him. And remember, brother, as I lie here each day I shall be praying for you, that you may be kept from the power of evil, and that this book may indeed be “a Lamp unto your feet, and a Light unto your path” (Psa. 119:105105NUN. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path. (Psalm 119:105)).
Gordon knelt by her couch, and with her hands upon his head she commended him to the Lord’s keeping. Never was there a sweeter and holier petition than the utterance of this sister’s heart in its simple earnestness and boundless faith.
Time passed away, and Gordon now fully launched in the medical profession, found the days all too full. How often was he tempted to let slip the first half hour of the day he had promised should be given up to prayer and the reading of his little Bible, and then the memory of the sweet pale face of his sister would rise before him, and again he would hear her words; “You will find your Lord in it!”
That was enough. The moment of temptation passed, and victory was won. The temptations of city life were not unknown to him, but had no power over him. His friends attributed this to strong will-power, but Gordon knew how truly God’s Word was “a Lamp to his feet, a Light to his path.” Through its message he had indeed found his Lord.
Three years after he had left home, again on a June day, he lifted the latch of the garden gate. He had developed in those years, his step was firmer, and about him was the quiet, confident air that bespoke a strong man. What a welcome he got from the dear home circle!
The last hours of that night were spent in Annie’s room. How her heart thrilled with joy and thankfulness to God as she listened to the story of his temptations and struggles, and how truly he had found amid all that Christ was enough, a sure Refuge, a never-failing Friend.
“I am so glad, dear Gordon,” Annie had said; “you see I am so helpless and can only lie here and pray.”
“Ah! my sister, but think how many, through your influence and prayers, are finding ‘the Lamp to their feet, the Light to their path,’ and you will never again feel that your helplessness means uselessness.”
Bidding her a tender “good-night,” Gordon left her, her face radiant with the happiness she felt. Was her loved brother not one of His own blood-bought children. Had God not honored her faith?
Do any who read this deplore that they cannot do much for the Lord? Like Annie, you can pray for someone around you, and sow the good seed even as she did.