SOME time ago a fire took place in one of the poorest districts of a large city. When the alarm was raised, the inmates were obliged to leave everything they possessed to the fury of the flames, and they made their escape with difficulty, even then. It was supposed that every life had been saved, and the firemen were confining their exertions to stopping the progress of the flames, when they were startled by a shriek which rose above the noise even of such a scene, only to be repeated again and again and again with ever deepening intensity. It was that of a poor widow woman, who, having a room in the house, had a short time before left her children asleep, to go some distance to see a sick sister, and now returned only to find them in the midst of a horrible fire. With the energy of despair she cleft her way through the crowd, and, seizing one of the ladders, planted it against the wall, its top being below the window of her little room.
It was with difficulty she was prevented from rushing up the steps of the ladder; nor did she desist from the attempt till she, saw one of the firemen actually entering by the window. It was a time of awful suspense—the flames in the flat below making fearful progress, and threatening not only to destroy the children, but to arrest the progress of the heroic man who had gone in search of them.
In a few seconds, however, he appeared again at the window, with a child in each arm, and commenced the descent of the ladder; a few seconds more and descent would have been impossible, the steps of the ladder being already licked and blackened by the flames. But the full power of several engines being brought to bear upon the spot, he at length descended in safety, amid the shouts of the multitude, and returned the trembling little ones to their mother, who, now that her intense agony was relieved, fell in a swoon at his feet.
Reader! Mother! what of your little ones?
Are the children safe, soul as well as body?
What have von done to save them?
And with what energy of faith and love and effort? How fearful, that while the endangered bodily life of a child should fill a whole multitude with the wildest excitement, the peril of its immortal soul should often give even its parents no concern!
Let no parent think that the good seed sown in youthful hearts is ever’ thrown away. Teach your children, pray for and with your children, and your instructions and prayers (though you may not see it in time) will be rewarded in eternity. Your little ones may grow up apparently thoughtless, may find their homes or their graves in distant lands, but God will own and bless the father’s earnest prayers, and the mother’s loving teaching of a crucified Saviour.
“I once met” says a writer, “with a little sailor boy who had pious parents. We were far out at sea in a terrible storm, and I will tell you of a feat he performed in the midst of the tempest. The ship was rolling fearfully. Some of the rigging got wrong at the mainmast head, and it was necessary that someone should go up and put it right. It was a perilous job. I was standing near the mate, and heard him order that boy to do it. He lifted his cap and glanced at the swinging mast, the boiling seas, and the steady determined countenance of the mate. He hesitated in silence a moment; then rushing across the deck, he pitched down into the forecastle. Perhaps he was gone two minutes, and when he returned, he laid his hands on the ratlines, and went up with a will. My eyes followed him till my head was dizzy. I asked, ‘Why did you send him?’ ‘I did it,’ replied the mate, ‘to save the ship. We’ve sometimes lost men over board, but never a boy.’
Again I looked till tears dimmed my eyes, and I was compelled to look away, expecting every moment to catch a glimpse of his last fall.
In about fifteen or twenty minutes he came down, and straightening himself up with the conscious pride of having performed a manly act, he walked off with a smile on his countenance. In the course of the day I took occasion to speak to him, and asked him why he hesitated when ordered aloft? ‘I went, sir,’ said the boy, ‘to pray.’ Do you pray? ‘Yes, sir; I thought that I might not come down alive, and I went to commit my soul to God.’ ‘Where did you learn to pray?’ At home; my mother wanted me to go to Sunday-school, and my teacher urged me to pray to God to keep me; and I do.’ ‘What was that you had in your jacket?’ ‘My Testament, which my mother gave me, I thought if I did perish, I would have the Word of God close to my heart.’” I read the other day of another sailor lad, whose lifeless body was washed ashore after a terrible storm. Inside his jacket, close against his bosom, was his little. Bible with his name and a photograph of his mother inside. They sent the Bible to his mother, who received it with tears of agony and joy. Her boy was dead, but he was faithful to Christ. She could have a firm hope that the Book thus highly prized in the time of awful peril had been loved and read in quiet moments, and had led her son to trust in Jesus for pardon. She could rejoice amid her sorrow, for though parted from her boy now, she knew she would meet him again, where there is no more death, or sorrow, or tears.
Mothers, fathers, I ask you, are you training your children for God? Are you yourselves living for God? Oh, if not, be reconciled to Him through the blood of His Son, seek to do His will, and to live for His service; then will the blessing of God rest on your efforts for the salvation of your children, and you will rejoice to see them giving their young hearts to Christ.
ML 04/25/1909