ONE Lord’s day, in winter, I thought I would go and see the father and mother of a little boy and girl belonging to our school. I was very much interested in the father, an intelligent man, who always seemed to listen to what one had to say about God, but who could hardly ever be induced to attend the preaching; his excuse usually being the want of clothes, or, “It ain’t no use to begin if you can’t stick to it.”
He was ashamed to say in so many words what it was that kept him from “sticking to it,” and from having as decent a suit of Sunday clothes as any other working man, but he knew full well that I was quite aware of the reason, which, as I daresay, you have already guessed—was the love of drink.
He was one of the few men in our hamlet who could read, and when not spending his evening in the saloon, was usually to be found at home, reading the newspaper, or some book, not infrequently the Bible; and I hoped to find him thus employed that evening. But when I reached his home, which was situated in a very unattractive row of cottages, no light was to be seen through any of its cracked and rag-stuffed windows, and I began to think no one was in, and that I had denied myself the pleasure of going to the preaching for nothing. However, I did not like to go back without knocking, which was no sooner done, than I heard someone get up to open the door. The footsteps were those of Jamie, my little scholar, at that time an extremely bright and interesting boy of eight years. Though brimful of fun, Jamie seemed quite harmless and inoffensive to every creature, excepting in the bird-nesting season, when, to tell the truth, he robbed so many nests, that it was a wonder there were any birds left to sing in the porch.
“We always likes Jamie to go with us when we goes bird-nesting. He knows where all the nests are!” said a boy to me one day.
I have myself robbed him of whole pockets-full of poor little yellow-beaked, half-naked birds, which I knew to be in his keeping, yet on these occasions he never seemed cross or sulky afterwards. I think the real sorrow I could not help showing for his little captives used to awe and puzzle him too much for that.
Jamie was not only the best bird-nester; he was also the best scholar in his class, as well as the best singer in the school.
When I heard his footsteps, I felt my visit would not be in vain, for a chat with Jamie was always worthwhile.
It was so dark when the child opened the door that I could not see him. I said, “Well, Jamie, are you all alone in the dark?”
“No. Gov’ness, Sarah Ann’s in.”
“Are not your father and mother at home?”
“No, Gov’ness, father’s been gone to B. since last night, and mother’s gone to hunt for him.”
“Would you like me to come in for a little while?” I then asked.
“If you likes, Gov’ness,” he said in a half sad tone and I stepped inside. Bidding him poke the dull fire, which smouldered in the grate, I found my way to the chair upon which little Sarah Ann, only four years old, was resting her sleepy little head, and sitting down beside her I tried to waken her. This was soon accomplished with the help of something from my pocket.
After a chat with Jamie, who had seated himself on the fender, by the now flickering fire, I proposed that we should sing a hymn together. Sarah Ann was allowed to choose the hymn, and she chose the one I was quite sure she would:
“Jesus loves me, this I know,
For the Bible tells me so,”
at that time the favorite hymn of the school.
When we had finished singing, I talked to them about it, and especially about those two lines
“He will wash away my sin,
Let a little child come in.”
"'In, where?" I said.
"Heaven," said little Sarah Ann, quite promptly.
Then I told them as well as I could, how beautiful the Bible says the New Jerusalem is-of its jasper walls and gates of pearl; its golden street, where the white-robed saints walk ; and of the throne of God and of the Lamb. Around that throne, I told them, thousands of children will stand, who were once poor and sinful like themselves, but with their sins washed away in the blood of Jesus.
I told them too of the beautiful river which makes glad the city of God, and of the beautiful trees bearing twelve manner of fruits, and yielding their fruit every month which grew in the midst of the street, and on either side of the river, and how the Lamb leads His people to living fountains of waters, "And do you remember, Jamie," I asked, "what gives them light in that glorious place?"
I expected him to say "no," or "the sun," or "God," and was prepared to explain to him those beautiful words, "And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light (or rather lamp) thereof." "And there shall be no night there: and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light." But to my surprise he gives me, at once, this beautiful answer, "God's face."
"Yes, Jamie," I said, "God is light, and would you like to go there?"
His answer surprised and pained me, for it was, "No, Gov'ness."
"Why would you not, Jamie?" "Because my sins ain't washed away," he replied.
Poor Jamie! there was such a tone of sober conviction of the truth of what he was saying, in his voice, that I felt quite touched, and pitying him from my heart, I did my best to show him how true those lines of the hymn we had sung together are:
"He will wash away my sin, Let a little child come in."
I pitied him, yet I felt glad he had been brought to feel that an unwashed sinner cannot stand the light of "God's face," or ever be happy in heaven.
I stayed as long as I could with the poor lonely little things, and when I had to go, it was with a sad heart. They were of tender years to sit up for a drunken father. I heard later that neither father, mother, nor brother came home that night, and that the little ones dragged. themselves up to bed, and were all night alone in the unlocked house. But "their angels," who always behold God's face, were there, and no harm came near them.
Jamie's father soon took him away from school to work with him at his own, occupation of stone-breaking.
Let us hope that the lessons learned in early childhood may have sunk deep into his heart, and, you dear readers, who are doubtless more favored than Jamie, may you find no rest until you know your sins are washed in the blood of Jesus, and made fit to walk in that street, paved with pure gold, like unto transparent glass, in the light of the smile of God's face; and may our dear readers who have accepted. Christ as their own Saviour, pray for such as Jamie and his little sister.
Do you not know of any such, who have not the advantages you have, to whom you could send "Messages of Love" after you have read them, and pray for God's blessing to follow them?
Messages of God’s Love 4/12/1908