IT was Sunday afternoon, the autumn fast merging into winter. Rain had fallen, the streets were sloppy, and all outside was cold and comfortless; but inside a large schoolroom, in the north of London, a bright fire was burning, and a number of children of various ages were arranged in classes round their respective teachers, when the superintendent, as was his habit, after school was opened, and all were in their places, went out to look up absent children, or to induce any stray ones he might meet with in the streets to come to the school.
This afternoon he soon returned, leading by the hand a little girl, whose pale, thin face and scanty clothing indicated extreme poverty; and committed her to the charge of a young teacher, who welcomed the child kindly, and soon won her confidence.
The poor little thing was utterly ignorant of the Scriptures, and could not read; but as Sunday after Sunday the teacher unfolded the “sweet story of old,” told of God’s love to sinners shown in the gift of His beloved Son; and of the love of Jesus in all His ways upon earth, of His rejection and ill treatment from man, of His death upon the cross, His giving Himself a sacrifice for sin, His resurrection from the dead, and His willingness to receive now all who come to Him; the earnest face and the rivetted attention of the child were most touching; while at times she would seize the teacher’s hand, or dress, and exclaim, “O, teacher, I never heard such things; I never heard such things.”
The other girls in the class, to most of whom these blessed truths were but an “oft told tale,” would laugh at the poor child, and sometimes gather their comfortable garments closely round them lest they should come in contact with her tattered clothes; but she seemed to see nothing, and care for nothing, but what her teacher read from God’s word, unfolding, as the Holy Spirit enabled her, the wondrous love and grace of the Saviour-God.
One Lord’s Day, after various expressions of astonishment and delight, she asked if she might bring her father and mother with her next Sunday, adding, “I’m sure they never heard such things.”
The teacher told her that perhaps her fattier and mother would not like to come with the children, but that the same blessed truths were preached to grown up people every Sunday evening, in the large room adjoining the schoolroom, and she could bring them there. She was greatly pleased, and said she would bring them, for she was “sure they never heard such things.”
The following Lord’s Day she came to her teacher with a sorrowful face, saying she had told her father and mother about the preaching, but they wouldn’t come! The teacher encouraged her to try again, and once more the dear child sat down, and drank in with avidity the words of eternal life. The weather was cold and snowy, and the child was evidently suffering. The next Sunday she was absent, and the next; and, as the teacher lived some miles from the school, and was unable to visit her scholars, she begged the superintendent to seek the little absentee.
He went the following day, and found the child at home, if home it might be called.
In a corner of a wretched room, with scarcely an article of furniture, on a small heap of straw, lay the little thing, pale and emaciated, with a wasting cough, and no earthly comfort. He spoke to her, and her pale face lighted with joy at seeing him. He took her thin hand in his, and spoke to her of her illness, asking if she was in much pain; but she scarcely seemed to know. She told him she was going to Jesus and she wished He would take her now, for she loved Him because He died for her and loved her so much.
After a few minutes, silence, she exclaimed: “Oh! teacher, there He is! oh so bright, so beautiful! Teacher, do you see Him? He calls me! I am coming, I am coming.”
Again there was silence, and the child lay motionless. The visitor spoke to the mother, who stood in tears near the poor bed of her dying child, wondering at her joy; but she had no ear, no heart for that blessed Saviour, that gracious Shepherd, who had taken this lamb into His arms, and was folding it to His bosom.
The visitor went out, and procured some nourishment, and a few little comforts for the sick child, promising to call again.
The next day he came, and saw the little wasted form cold in death. The spirit had gone to Him who had called her by His grace, and had washed her from her “sins in His own blood,” and had manifested Himself to her in such a way, that she forgot the pain, and all the wretchedness of her surroundings, in gazing upon His beauty, and longing to be with Him.
Need I add anything, dear reader, to this simple tale? Does it not speak for itself of the love and grace of the One who came “to seek and to save that which was lost”? That “Good Shepherd” who laid down His life for the sheep, who is seeking them now, in this dark world, and taking up one and another on His shoulders, rejoices at recovering the poor lost ones.
Where are you? Have your eyes been opened like this dear child’s to see “the beauty of the Lord”? Have your ears been opened to hear His voice? Or are you like so many, trebling the wondrous revelation of God’s grace as an “oft told tale,” in which you have ceased to feel any interest?
Oh! beware I beseech you! Trifle not with your eternal interests. Neglect not that great salvation, which has been offered to you so many times.
God’s long-suffering is wonderful, but it will not always last; and suddenly your doom may be sealed. “For as, in the days that were before the flood, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day that Noah entered the ark, and knew not until the flood came, and took them all away, so also shall the coming of the Son of man be” (Matt. 24:38, 39). P.