LITTLE reader, do you understand what a sad thing it is to be lost? Perhaps the following incident, which happened to me when a child, will help to make it plain:
I was on a visit to some friends who lived in a busy part of London. The children of the family were named Frank and Edith. One day their grandmama took us out for a walk. Frank and I walked together part of the way, and then he left me to walk with his grandmama and sister. I did not like walking alone, and thought it was unkind of Frank to leave me. But very soon I forgot the loss of his company, and became interested in the many strange sights that met my view. We were just turning into a large square, when my eye was attracted by a shoemaker busy at his work near the door of a cellar. Quite forgetting that my friends had gone on, I stood to watch him, remaining a long while, for I well remember he finished soleing and heeling a boot. As the man rose from his work, I turned around and thought of my friends, but they were nowhere to be seen. I ran up one street and down another, looking for them in vain. What was to be done? I began to feel—lost! and could keep back my tears no longer. While thus standing at the corner of a street, and sobbing aloud, a group of children gathered around me, and one or two ventured to inquire the cause of my grief. I could only sob out,
“I’m lost!”
Some rude boys seemed to enjoy the sight of my grief, for they laughed and shouted,
“She’s lost, she’s lost!”
Ah! they did not understand my sad condition: nor the painful thoughts of my heart. How lonely and helpless I then felt, as I thought of my kind parents and home, and that perhaps I might never see them again.
Many people were passing at the time, but only a few stopped to express their pity. Some told me not to cry; and some said I had better be taken to the police station, but no one offered to find my home.
A long, long time I stood at the corner of that street, getting more and more miserable. But God was caring for me—a poor, lost little girl—and was even then preparing a way to lead me back to my friends.
A rough-looking man came pushing through the group that surrounded me, saying, as he did so,
“Do you know the name of the street where you live, little girl?”
“Yes,” I replied, wiping away my tears, “and O! sir, do you know the street?”
“I’ll find it for you,” he answered; “give me your hand, and come with me.”
You will say, little reader, that I was very glad to go with the man, but indeed it was not so, for I feared that, perhaps, he did not mean what he said, and again the big tear-drops fell from my eyes.
“Well,” he exclaimed, “you are a long time thinking about taking my hand; don’t you want to go home?”
“O! yes, sir, I do, but”—and I hesitated.
“Ah!” he broke in, “you don’t like to trust yourself with such a rough-looking man as I seem to be; that’s about it now, isn’t it, little girl?”
“You are so dirty,” I sobbed out.
“That may be,” he replied; but you may trust me for all that. Are you coming?” he continued, for I still hesitated; “if not, I must leave you to your fate.”
“Well,” I thought, “I can’t be much worse off in going with the man,” so putting my hand into his, I answered, “I’ll go with you, sir; but I do hope you know the way to Aldersgate Street and that you will please take me there.”
“You are a queer child,” said he, as we hurried along; “but don’t you fear, I mean what I say; I’ll take you safe home.”
He was as good as his word. We went by a way I knew not, through many dark alleys and dirty places, but he carefully led me along, lifting me over muddy places, and holding me tightly lest I should slip, and very soon I was smiling in the arms of my friends. O! how well it was that I trusted myself to the kind man’s care! I shall never forget my misery when I knew myself lost in London, nor how happy I felt when found.
But several years later I had to experience yet greater misery, and after that, still greater happiness. Do you understand what I mean?
All my life I had been going away from God, and when at length I discovered my lost condition I was afraid to take another step. It was then that I learned,
“The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which was lost,” and with the eye of faith I looked to Him.
Little reader, unless you have felt that you are lost, you can never know the joy of being found by a loving Saviour.
ML 02/17/1924