Little Edith came home from Sunday school with a tear on her pretty cheek. The lesson that day had been about the sufferings of Jesus, that last sad night in Gethsemane, when all forsook Him and fled; the cruel soldiers platting the crown of thorns around His brow, and then the pain and suffering of the cross.
She was only a child, a little girl of tender years; but her heart had been opened to receive the Saviour. After she was undressed she knelt down at her mother’s knee to pray—not to say her prayers as a mere form, but to pour out her heart in simple, child-like words to the One whom she knew and loved. Clasping her little hands, she said,
“I thank Thee, O Jesus, that Thou was punished instead of me.”
That was about all, but, O, what a depth of meaning is found in the words of that little child. Who among the host of heaven can raise a higher note?
“Punished instead of me.” Ah, yes, that’s it. Not instead of angels or demons; not instead of other people, or people in general, but “for me.” This is faith. The apostle who said,
“Punished instead of me,” had the same precious faith. They were sinners alike, and they had accepted the same Saviour. Reader, have you?
ML 10/29/1944