THE BIRTHPLACE.
IT is a very simple story which I have to lay before you, dear reader; yet I trust to awaken your interest, and to enlist your sympathies, in behalf of the object I have in view, by relating the following tale, which shows, in a striking manner, the ever-watchful Providence of God over the outcast, the stranger, and the orphan. This account is humbly written to His glory, and to the praise of the name of the Lord Jesus only. It is about a little Negro girl—now fallen asleep. We called her “Our Bessie,” as we all claimed a share in her love, and she was really, in a special manner, the child of the Refuge.
I will now tell you a little of her first home. Bessie was born in one of the worst parts of the east end of London, by the riverside, where she was brought up in the very midst of iniquity. Her baby eyes saw nothing but what was repulsive, and her nursery rhymes were songs of blasphemy. In this atmosphere of sin and vice she lived with her mother—an abandoned woman of color from the West Indies, whose mother before her lived also a life of open sin. Thus Bessie attained her tenth year in that nest of sin, when the Lord removed her, having provided a better home for her.
One dark light in January, about six years ago, her mother, in a sullen fit of drunkenness, turned her out of doors to go and sleep on the cold stones, or wander wherever she pleased; she did not care what became of her poor child of sin and misery. How true are those words of Scripture— “Can a woman forget her slicking child? Yea, they may forget” (Isa. 49:1515Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. (Isaiah 49:15)). Was not little Bessie often a hindrance to her wicked life? Perhaps the child reproved her, when she dared; so the unnatural mother wished to get rid of her by any means.
But now let us watch and see what will befall our dear little Topsy, as she is trotting, as fast as her little feet will carry her, away from that horrid spot—never to be entered any more—and the unkind words ringing in her ears. At last she grew tired, faint, and cold, her thin rags scarcely covering her shivering body. Selecting, then, a quiet, dark corner, on a doorstep, she rolled herself up, slave fashion, and, as she thought, settled herself there undisturbed for the night’s sleep. Poor little thing! It makes the heart sad to think of the many children in London who have to endure the same fate, even now, through the brutality of their drunken parents. However, we are again reminded of the words of our God, and to look to His promises, for thus we read (Heb. 1:1414Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation? (Hebrews 1:14)) about the angels— “Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?” With deep reverence, and wondering adoration, can we not fancy hearing the blessed Master saying to those so closely connected with our welfare— “Watch over her that no harm come to her. I have set her as a seal upon My heart; she is Mine; a vessel of mercy, fitted for My use.” Well might the Apostle Peter say—when the Holy Spirit had taught him the meaning of the vision he saw (Acts 10:1414But Peter said, Not so, Lord; for I have never eaten any thing that is common or unclean. (Acts 10:14))— “Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons: but, in every nation, he that feareth Him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with Him” (Acts 10:34, 3534Then Peter opened his mouth, and said, Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons: 35But in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him. (Acts 10:34‑35)).
Bessie was aroused, with some alarm from her cold slumber, by someone shaking her. It was not a policeman, who, in the fulfillment of his duty, greeted her with the words so familiar to street-sleepers, “Move on, move on; what are you doing here?” But it was a gentleman, who, on his way home, was attracted by seeing the poor little thing all of a heap, sleeping in the street on such a cold night. “Get up, my child,” said he in kindly tones; “give me your hand, and I will take you somewhere, in a house, to spend the rest of the night. Then, in the morning, I will see what can be done for you.”
Bessie’s first friend felt rather puzzled what to do with her. The Workhouse’s Casual Ward did not seem to him to be the best place. After a little thought, he was led to take her to a near Ragged School, when, like the good Samaritan, he asked the mistress to take care of that little girl until the morrow, when he would call again. This gentleman retraced his steps homewards, thankful for the opportunity of showing kindness.
Early the next morning, Mr. A. went and fetched Bessie—I dare say she was on the lookout for him; he had settled what to do with her, and that was to take her to our Girls’ Refuge, Broad Street, St. Giles’. Mr. W. W., Secretary of the St. Giles’ and Bloomsbury Refuges, and the matron there, Miss D., looked upon the little darkey with no small interest and compassion. She was admitted at once, as sent from the Lord to be trained for Him.
This was Bessie’s SECOND home. At first, she felt very strange and shy, it was all so new to her; the sight of the other little girls running about singing hymns—the order—the quiet discipline of the whole arrangement—filled her little mind with wonderment; so different was it from that distant court, and what she had left behind. And, after she had undergone the process of a thorough bath—as is the rule for all newcomers, and which is much needed by some of the poor children—and of being dressed in a nice violet print frock, and white pinafore, with good warm stockings to her legs, and new boots to her feet, I can assure you that Bessie had some degree of self-admiration when looking at herself from head to foot; and all this great change had taken place in two or three days.
I well remember the first Sunday I saw her after her admission: I thought she was the prettiest little black girl I had ever seen; and my heart was knit to hers at once. It was truly that love at first sight which we sometimes talk of. By degrees, she felt more at home, and began to awaken to the reality of her new existence. Although of Negro and slave extraction, she had much intelligence, and a thoughtful, original mind. She soon learned to read and write; but what is far better, she was brought to know the Lord Jesus as her Saviour. The good seed took root—for the Lord blessed the soil on which it fell.
Our Bessie was about twelve years of age when she first knew herself a lost sinner needing a Saviour. She became, then, intelligently converted to God; and, from that time, a great spiritual change developed itself in her. Her spine was then discovered to be affected—the body beginning, thus early, to decay; but the soul having been united to Jesus Christ by being born again— “not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God” (John 1:11-1311He came unto his own, and his own received him not. 12But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: 13Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. (John 1:11‑13)). Several years of weary pain, endured with much patience, in a delicate and feeble body, was the way—the best way—in which this dear young saint had to glorify God, and to witness for Him.
For the last two years of her life she was completely bedridden; wasting slowly, but surely, away, yet daily growing in grace—ripening for Paradise. Her influence for good over the other girls was telling most wonderfully. She was quite a little missionary in her zeal, trying to work for her dear Master among them; like Mary of old, doing what she could to show her love. She had a word for each, according to their need. When any had transgressed, they were taken to her, in the sickroom where she lay, and then Bessie, in her own quaint way, would draw from the bosom of the little offender confession of sin; and she would point them very clearly to Jesus, the Lamb of God, the Saviour from sin. Thus I might weary you, were I to tell you all her doings and sayings in the cause of the Lord Jesus Christ.
She had many friends, to whom she had become very dear. Mr. W. was one of these. He visited our Bessie very often, and with much kindness used to sit by her bedside, to read and explain God’s word to her; it was refreshing to her soul, strengthening her for endurance in her weary pilgrimage.
Her Sunday-school teacher, Miss Eliza M—, to whom Bessie was tenderly attached, had given her a canary, to keep her company; it gave her pleasure through many a lonely hour, with its warbling, and ceaseless jumping up and down. Alas! Dickey, one day, was taken ill and died. I happened to come to see her shortly after its death. On entering the room I saw the empty cage, and then looked at Bessie, who appeared sad. After raising her, and seating myself by her side, I said, “Well, Bessie, you are looking very dull today. Whatever is the matter, dear? Not even a smile for me?”
“Dear Dickey is dead,” was the sad reply, “and I can’t make up my mind to it. I know it is wrong; but I did love my Dickey so much.”
“My dear child, I do feel very sorry for you, and it was not wrong of you to love that dear little bird; it was given you by your kind teacher; and God has made them to cheer us with their songs. But we must not forget, either, that everything created is liable to change, decay, and death; so that we must not rest on things which may be taken from us in a moment. Jesus wants us to love Him more than anything else. When I was a little girl, like you, I shed many a tear over a lost cat, or a broken doll; and since I have become a woman, I have had to learn many a hard lesson in that way. But I know now, by the grace of God, what the Apostle Paul meant when he wrote these words: ‘Set your affections on things above’ (Col. 3:1, 21If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. 2Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth. (Colossians 3:1‑2)).”
“Thank you, dear Miss V.,” she said, “I need to be always reminded of God’s will. I am so prone to wander; then, like a silly sheep, I get hurt; but Jesus does all things well.” I saw she was crying, and I asked her to tell me if there was anything on her mind, and if I could in anything or any way help her.
“Oh!” she said, “I feel very, very miserable sometimes about my mother—my poor mother! She does come and see me now and then, and I talk to her, but I do not see any change in her. It is the greatest sorrow I have, and my heart feels at times as if it would break. Will you pray for my poor sinful mother? for I do love her still; she is my mother, and God commands us to love our parents—whether they are good or bad. I feel I have not long to live, and when I am gone no one will tell her about the Saviour, and of the precious blood which washes away all sin; and she will go on as bad as ever. She is never out of my thoughts, and it makes me cry very much when I think about it.”
This was the secret—the burden—the cross—of dear Bessie’s heart; it was heavy to bear, along with the increasing feebleness of her poor frame. She understood something of the exceeding sinfulness of sin in the sight of a holy God, and its terrible wages and consequences. The idea of her dear mother being eternally lost, shut out from the presence of God, was terrible to her tender heart. No wonder, then, that she wept.
Towards the end of August, 1868, I saw she was drawing to the close of her short life. I frequently visited her, and rejoiced that her calm assurance in the Saviour’s love and His perfect merits alone for salvation never left her. She continued very happy until she fell asleep, which took place on Friday morning, Sept. 11th, 1868.