Let us go by the mill stream. I do like to see the fish jumping about as the, stream runs from the wheel.”
“Very well, Harry; we will go that way if you wish.”
Harry was a little boy eight years old, who was fond of having a nice stroll with uncle along the country roads, or through the flower-covered meadows, and they had nice little chit-chats together.
“What a pretty place that is, uncle,” said Harry, pointing to a house that was surrounded with trees and shrubs, over whose sides the ivy, and the Virginian Creeper, and roses, and sweet pea seemed to be trying their hardest to cover.
“Yes, Harry; and I always look on that house with pleasure, for when I was a little boy I used to go there every now and then, for a dear old Christian lived there, and he liked to have some of us boys from the school to visit him, and many a little book his dear wife would give us, and in fruit time a pocket full of apples. I do believe they loved us children.
But he had a son who was a cripple, and during his illness God led him to see what a sinner he was, and what a Saviour Jesus was, and he believed what God said, and was happy, and then he wanted to be a little glow-worm for Jesus.
When he was a little better he used to come to Sunday school, and after the lessons were over, he would speak to us, or read some good book out of which he hoped to teach us the way to heaven.
Through that dear young man I was saved. Do you think I ought to be quite sure I am saved, Harry?”
“Yes, uncle, because Jesus says,
“That’s it, my boy; and lots of other verses speak of the eternal safety of every believer in Christ.”
ML 04/05/1942