FAST fell the snow, the green hillsides were covered up from sight,
And bleak the wind that whistled shrill throng all the cloudy night;
A humble dwelling ‘midst those hills bare shelter could afford,
With poor mud walls, and half-thatched roof, and many a gaping board.
The humble folk, who lived within, had struggles sharp and sore
To meet the wolf, we Hunger call, and drive him from the door;
And when stern Winter’s days arrived, with all their chilling gloom,
They often feared the way was short betwixt them and the tomb.
Within the house a widow lived, whose only comfort lay
In a little girl of five years old, for whom she toiled each day.
She worked from gray of early morn, she toiled till late at night,
But could not earn enough for clothes, work for her as she might.
So little Bessie had to go with scanty garments clad;
Her little feet must bear the cold, which made the mother sad;
But Bessie’s whole concern for clothes― ‘tis passing strange to say―
Was that she might to chapel go, and there sing “Happy Day.”
One day Bess to her mother came, and asked with earnestness:
“Does Jesus know I’se got no hat, I’se got no shoes, no dress?”
“Oh, yes, my dear!” the mother said, “Jesus knows everything.”
“Why then,” asked Bess, “don’t He send clothes, so’s I may go an’ sing?”
“Perhaps you haven’t asked Him yet,” the mother answered Bess.
“Well, if I ask,” returned the child, “will Jesus send a dress,
An’ shoes, an’ hat, an’ all I’se want?”
“Oh, yes,” the mother cried,
“Jesus has said, ‘Ask what you will,’ and He’ll your need provide.”
Bess thought awhile, then hurrying up into the loft above,
She knelt upon the boards, and prayed unto the Lord of love:
“Dear Jesus, up in Heaven so high, you once was little too,”
I’se got no hat, no shoes, no dress, an’ so I’se come to you.
“I’se want to go to chapel so, an’ Happy Day’ to sing;
“Dear Jesus, do please send a dress, an’ shoes, an’ everything.
“You will, dear Jesus, won’t you now?” her eyes began to fill;
But in simplicity of faith, she cried, “I know you will.”
Bess rose, and now with beaming face, she hastened down below,
“Mother,” said she, “I’se told Him all; He’ll send the clothes, I know.”
The mother scarce could answer make, for tears had dimmed her eyes,
“O God!” she cried, “Thou teachest babes what’s hidden from the wise.”
* * * * *
Late that same night, a knock was heard upon the outer door;
She listened, all was quiet again, except the wind’s fierce roar―
But hark! there is the knock again, and then a hasty shout,
“Come, my good woman, stir yourself; ’tis very cold— without.”
The widow hastened to the door, wond’ring who there could be,
A liveried servant stood without, a parcel large had he;
“Be quick, good woman, you are long, I have no time to stay,”
My lady at the Hall sent this.” With that he went away.
All was so sudden, that surprise had filled the widow’s breast;
Her little girl, some hours before, had gone to take her rest;
So quietly she closed the door, and laid the parcel down,
And from its folds she soon drew forth a child’s HAT, SHOES and GOWN.
Then she recalled what Bess had told her earlier in the day;
Would it be right to wake her up, for she so peaceful lay?
No! she would place the garments near the little one’s bedside,
And in a place where, when she waked, the clothes would be espied.
As early dawn peeped through her room, with faint and glimmering light,
Bess spied the clothes, then rubbed her eyes to see if she were right;
Then woke her mother up to show how Jesus answered prayer,
For when she went to bed last night, she knew they were not there.
Then on her knees the child fell down, and faltered out her praise
To Him who hears our feeblest cry, who knoweth all our ways;
Who marks the eagles in their flight; the spar rows in their fall,
And counts the hairs of every head, for Jesus loveth all.
W. H. R.