Little Jim, who was eight years old, lived at the edge of a lovely wood, where the nightingale sang both night and day. His father was a gardener. It was a long way to the village school. Large beech trees grew along the side of the road, and in them in early spring were to be seen flocks of birds, who busily searched for food.
Jim found great delight in sauntering along, watching the wild life, while his feet kicked. up the rustling brown leaves.
But it is about one special day in Jim’s life I want to tell.
He thought of a wonderful plan for which he must have a stick. Of course mother could help. So to her he went and asked if she would please lend him a strong knife.
“What do you want it for, Jim,” said mother.
“To cut a nice strong stick out of the wood,” replied Jim, “The knife you use for the potatoes is the one I should like, and, O, Mother, I will take care of it and bring it back to you.”
“Mind you do,” said mother, “or you will get a whipping.”
Off went the boy gaily, and found just the stick he wanted. But when some time later Jim appeared at the cottage door, it was apparent he had been crying, Mother was alarmed, and said,
“Whatever has happened? Have you cut yourself, Jim?”
“No, mother,” said Jim; “but I lost the knife, and I knew you would whip me, and I was so sad. And then I thought: God can see everything, He knows where the knife is, and I knelt down in the wood and I said, ‘Please God, give me back the knife, because mother told me that if I lost it she would whip me.’ I got up and went back a little way, and there it was among the dry leaves. So here it is, another knew God could give it back to me.”
Jim realized that nothing is too small to bring before the Lord, and his faith was rewarded. Has He not said:
ML 04/27/1941