DEAR young Friends, —Perhaps you have read a story such as this before. I am going to tell you of a little boy whom the Lord Jesus made happy, and then took home to be with Himself. I wonder whether you know that your sins are forgiven, and if the Lord Jesus has made you happy? The dear little boy of whom I now write knew the forgiveness of his sins; and if you have never thought about this before, I hope you will do so as you read this paper.
One bright summer evening, two friends and I were walking leisurely across the fields on our way home, when we came to a little gate, and as we did so Joe B. sprang forward to open it for us, touching his hat respectfully as we passed. So bright and happy did he look as he stood there! we little thought we were going to speak to him for the last time; yet so it was. “How is grandfather to-day?” one of us asked before we passed on. “Very poorly, thank you, sir," answered the boy; “he seems worse to-night."
Now I must tell you something about Joe's home; and perhaps, too, you will like to hear his age. He was eleven years old, and rather tall; he had a nice, bright face, and was a sharp, clever lad. Joe lived with his grandparents and aunt in a pretty little cottage in a hollow. He was very happy, for he dearly I loved those with whom he lived.
Joe's grandfather was old and bed-ridden, and he had long expected that the Lord Jesus would take him home; he was anxious to go, too, poor old man, for he longed to be with the Saviour he had loved for many years, and sometimes found the " waiting-time" rather long. No one thought that the bright, happy boy of eleven would be the first to go. Yet such was the case.
Well, as I said, that little talk with Joe was the last we had. Soon after this we went away to Scotland, and whilst there received a letter which contained this news: “Poor Joe B. is very ill. The doctor doubts if he will recover." We were very sorry to hear this; but were still more sorry when, a day or two later, another letter came, which said “Joe B. died this morning at three o'clock." But there was comfort in this letter, for the writer added, “He had been a Christian about three months, and had confessed Christ to some of his schoolfellows." Oh, my dear young friends, could others say the same of you were you to be called to die?
We did not return home till many weeks after this; but the first Sunday after our arrival in our own village I went down to the cottage where Joe had lived, to see his aunt and to hear something about him. “Was he happy when he died?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, miss," she answered. And then, with many tears, she told me about his conversion, and the illness which came on soon after, ending in his death.
She said the first thing that made Joe think about his soul was the sudden and solemn death of a woman in the place. The aunt noticed that for two or three days after this event he went about the house very silently and quietly, and at last, one night, after he had gone up stairs, and she had thought him in bed, she heard him call her. "Auntie," said Joe, “won’t you come up to me, I want to speak to you."
“What is it?" she asked.
“Oh, I can't tell you like that," he replied;” do come up, auntie."
So, when she was free to do so, the aunt went up, and then she found poor Joe very unhappy. It was no wonder that he was so, for he had found out that he was a sinner, and he knew that God could not have sin in His presence, and so he was very sad: he said he longed for rest, but did not know how to get it.
So Joe's aunt told the little boy how he might find rest in Jesus, even by believing on Him, and she prayed with him, and then left him.
When little Joe rose in the morning a new object and a new desire seemed to be before him. This those about him could not fail to notice. Surely, the object was Christ, and the desire was to live for Him. He went about the cottage singing so loudly and cheerfully that at last his aunt asked, “Why do you go on singing like that, Joe?” “Oh, auntie, can't help it." said Joe, “I am so happy."
Then the aunt went on to tell me about the little boy's illness. His aunt did not think him so very ill, but one evening when she was busy down below she heard him call from his little bed upstairs, and ran quickly to him. He was very restless and begged her to come and hold his hand; he "could not keep it still," he said. So she came and sat down beside him, and stroked the weary little hand till he grew quieter, and then they talked together about the Lord Jesus.
The aunt did not know it would be the last talk, hut it comforted her afterward to think over it, and to remember what they had said, and I think the Lord Jesus Himself must have led her to repeat the verse which she did to Joe, and to ask him one little question.
Still stroking his hand, she said, " Joe, do you remember those words, 'Absent from the body to be present with the Lord?’ Would you rather be present with the Lord'? "
“Oh yes, auntie," he said, “it would be far better." And so they talked a little longer together, and then Joe's eyes closed wearily, and at last he quietly slept.
His aunt bent over him, and hearing that he was breathing regularly, she put the restless little hand down again, and covered him over tenderly, and left him. Then having-made her arrangements for the night, she, too, lay down and slept.
But about three o'clock in the morning once more little Joe called her. She quickly ran to him again. He was sitting up in bed, “So cold!" he said. She wrapped a blanket carefully round him, and laid him down again, but as she did so, one little sobbing sigh came from his lips, and dear Joe was gone.
The old grandfather slept peacefully down below, but Jesus had “called a little child unto Him." Yes, little Joe's spirit had gone to be with the Lord Jesus. It was “far better" to be with Him, he had said but a short time before, and now he was to prove it so.
Little Joe's body sleeps in the churchyard, awaiting "the voice of the archangel and the trump of God," when he with all who love the Lord Jesus shall rise quickly and joyfully to meet Him. R.