One summer’s evening, ere the sun went down,
When tired workers hastened from the town
To reach their homes — some near, some far —
By roaring train, by crowded bus or car,
To be beyond the city’s smoke and din,
A train stopped and a little girl got in.
A cheery looking child, scarce four years old;
Although not shy her manners were not bold;
But all alone! and scarce could understand;
She held a little bundle in her hand—
A tiny handkerchief with corners tied,
But which did not some bread and butter hide;
A satin scarf, so pretty and so neat,
Was o’er her shoulders thrown. She took her seat,
And laid her bundle underneath her arm,
And smiling sweetly, but yet all so calm,
She to the porter said, “May I lie here?”
He answered instantly, “O yes, my dear.”
And there she seemed inclined to make her stay,
While once again the train went on its way.
The tall conductor — over six feet high,
Now scanned the traveler with a business eye;
But in that eye was something kind and mild,
That took the notice of the little child.
A little after, and the man went round,
And soon was heard the old familiar sound
Of gathering coins and clipping tickets too—
The car was full and he had much to do.
“Your fare, my little girl,” at length he said.
She looked a moment, shook her little head:
“I have no money; don’t you know,” said she,
“My fare is paid, for Jesus paid for me.”
He looked bewildered — all the people smiled:
“I didn’t know, and who is Jesus, child?”
“Why, don’t you know He once for sinners died?
For little children, and for men beside,
To make us good and wash away our sin;
Is this His railway I am traveling in?”
“Don’t think it is! I want your fare, you know.”
“I told you Jesus paid it long ago!
My mother told me just before she died
That Jesus paid when He was crucified,
That at His cross His railway did begin
Which took poor sinners from a world of sin.
My mother said His home was grand and fair:
I want to go and see my mother there—
I want to go to Heaven where Jesus lives.
A loving welcome Mother said He gives;
He bids us little children come to Him.”
The poor conductor’s eyes felt rather dim,
He knew not why — he fumbled in his coat;
And felt a substance rising in his throat.
The people listened to the little child:
Some were in tears — the roughest only smiled,
And some one whispered as they looked amazed,
“Out of the mouths of babes the Lord is praised.”
“I am a pilgrim,” said the little thing,
“I’m going to Heaven. Mother used to sing
To me of Jesus and His Father’s love;
Told me to meet her in His Home above.
And so today when aunt went out to tea,
And looking out I could not Daddy see,
I got my bundle — kissed my little kitty,
And started for the heavenly City.
And then your train it stopped, and I could see
You looked so kind. I saw you beckon me —
I thought you must belong to Jesus’ train;
Are you just going to Heaven again?”
The poor conductor only shook his head;
Tears in his eyes — the power of speech had fled.
Had conscience by her prattle roused his fears,
And struck upon the fountain of his tears,
And made his thoughts in sad confusion whirl?
At last he said: “Once I’d a little girl;
I loved her much; she was my little pet,
And with great fondness I remember yet
How much she loved me. But one day she died.”
“She’s gone to Heaven,” the little girl replied;
“She’s gone to Jesus — Jesus paid her fare!
O won’t you meet your little girl up there?”
The poor conductor now broke fairly down;
He could have borne the hardest look or frown.
But no one laughed. Yet many sitting by
Beheld the scene with sympathetic eye.
He kissed the child, for she his heart had won.
“I am so sleepy,” said the little one;
“If you will let me, I’ll lie here and wait
Until your train arrives at Jesus’ gate.
And you’ll see Jesus there!” The strong man wept.
1 Could but think, as from the car I stepped,
How oft a little one has found the road,
The narrow pathway to that blest abode;
Through faith in Christ has read its title clear,
While learned men remain in doubt and fear.
A little child! the Lord oft uses such
To break or bend, the stoutest heart to touch;
Then by His Spirit bids the conflict cease,
And once forever enter into peace;
And then along the road the news we bear,
We’re going to Heaven — for Jesus paid our fare.