“I wish I had a boat,” sighed little Freddy, as with envious eyes he watched a happy group of children in bare feet racing along the beach, guiding the rather uncertain movements of a pretty toy yacht. He hadn’t the courage to ask them if he could join them, for they were such well-dressed children and he was only a poor fisherman’s boy. So he perched himself on the big docks to watch the fun.
“Daddy’s too poor to buy me one, so I won’t ask him,” determined the loyal little fellow.
A few minutes later, he saw something dark bobbing up and down on the waves close by. Thinking it might be some treasure from the sea, he waded out and picked it up. But this time, he was disappointed. It was only a piece of driftwood! He threw it up on the beach, but the next moment he picked it up again. Something in its shape had given him an idea.
“Why, I’ll make one,” he thought rapturously, “and I’ll have a boat of my very own, after all.” From his pocket he produced a broken old jack-knife, and with this he set to work. But try as he would, the blunt old blade made very little impression, and then it slipped and pierced his hand. Frightened and hurt, he ran home to the little cottage up the shore.
“Why, Freddie, whatever is wrong now?” exclaimed his mother. And into her sympathetic ear he poured the story of his longings and failure.
Late in the evening, after Freddie had gone to bed, his father came home, and having heard what had happened he slipped up to the room overhead where his little boy was sleeping. There was something dark and hard sticking out from under the blanket, and drawing it gently back, he saw his little son was still grasping the old piece of driftwood.
A tender look came over the strong rugged face of the fisherman. Carefully he loosened the clasp of the small hands, and carried the wood back downstairs. Long into the night he worked, for he wanted to surprise his little boy in the morning. At last, it was finished—a boat such as Freddie had longed for. Strong, skillful fingers had succeeded where the poor child’s feeble ones had failed, and once more the sleeper’s hands were clasped around the treasure.
And in the morning? You know as well as I do, what happened, only it was very hard to convince Freddie that his fine boat had really been made out of that old piece of driftwood!
Hearing of Freddie made me think of how our lives are like that old piece of driftwood. Many a boy and girl have sought to shape their lives to something noble and beautiful, but found they had not the strength or courage as they hoped, and failed; often sin came in and spoiled it all. But we have a Father in heaven who can always succeed where we fail. When young hearts are yielded to the Saviour, God can shape and mold young lives to be to His honor and praise, like His own Son. I know of many boys and girls who once were failures but have come to the Lord and put their trust in Him, and now they are happy Christians, and reflect Christ wherever they go. You can be one of them.
Then there is a morning coming too, that morning without clouds, when the Saviour shall come, and those who love Him shall suddenly leave behind this world’s darkness and be forever in the light of His presence. What joyful surprises and wonders will there be in that day!
Oh, the crowning day is coming!
Is coming by and by;
When our Lord shall come in “power”
And “glory” from on high.
Oh, the glorious sight will gladden
Each waiting, watchful eye,
In the crowning day that’s coming
By and by.
ML-03/29/1970