A GOOD many years ago, there lived a little girl whose name was Emily. Her home was far away from here, for she lived in a little log cabin, in the Great Lone Land, as Manitoba and the Northwest, Territories were then called. I don't suppose many of the children who read this story would care to live in such a cabin. To begin with, it had only one room, and that was not large. The flooring did not go all over it — it was not considered necessary, to put a floor under any bed — so when the water rose in the spring time, when the deep snows melted all around, each of the three beds had a little `pond under it, and there was some anxiety in the family for fear the baby might be drowned.
But flooring was not the only thing in that house of which there was a scarcity. There were very few warm clothes for Emily and her six little brothers and sisters to wear in the bitter cold of a northern winter; and often all that the parents could get to satisfy their hungry mouths, were turnips or potatoes. And yet the poor little children, often cold and often hungry, did not grumble, and when spring came around again, and "Mother" could procure a little bran; and bake it into loaves, Emily said, "It was so nice, we could not want anything better."
I wonder if the children to whom I am telling this story are as contented as this little girl? Do you remember a verse in the Psalms which says, "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits"? Did you ever try to remember His benefits to you? or do you more often think of the benefits He has seen fit to withhold from you? Just try to count them up — all the good gifts the Lord has bestowed upon you — and I think you will find some for every finger and thumb, and some over.
Sometimes Indians used to visit the little log hut, and they looked kindly at the fair little girls, with their yellow, curly hair, and blue eyes, so different from their own funny little black-eyed children; and now and then they would bring some venison, saying it was for the "white papoose," as they called little Emily. She was a special favorite with one old chief, who told her father he would' trade him a pony for her; but you may be quite sure her father did not agree to that. No, fathers and mothers, however poor they. may be, love their children far too well to give them in exchange for anything else. You all know that, don't you? But can you tell me who it was that gave His only Son that He might die, not for His friends, but for His enemies? It was God. Did you ever think, dear children, of how wonderful the love of God must bb to you, that He would give that beloved, only Son for you? He suffered, that you might have endless joy; He died that you might have eternal life; He bore the punishment of sin, that you, the sinner, might go free.
(To be continued)
Messages of God’s Love 1/5/1901