ON a certain afternoon in the month of November, Willie Robertson ran to the end of his father’s yard and climbed on the wall. At first, he watched some boys, who were at play, and then he began to talk to himself “I’d like so much to play with them,” said he, “there’s no harm in that. Why won’t my father let us play in the park? I think that he is very severe; I’m getting to be a big boy now; tomorrow I’ll be seven years old.” All at once he jumped down.
“Well the Bate is open, the gardener didn’t shut it well; now I can come nearer to the boys, there’s no harm in that.” Willie went a few steps into the park, then a boy called out to him; “Will you just take that ball, and throw it over here?”
Willie ran as fast as he could, and forgetting his father’s orders, played with them. Very soon he was at the other side of the park, not far from the city.
A little farther on, in one of the streets, a group of children surrounded an organ-grinder, who had a monkey with him. In a moment the boys in the park joined them and little Willie with them. The man went from one street to another; with the children following him, so that in less than an hour they had gone quite a way from the park. Then it began to rain, the little crowd broke up; some went this way, the others that. The organ-grinder too, went home, and Willie found that he was quite alone. He was very much frightened, it was getting dark, he was very hungry, and he had no idea where he was. He wished now that he had remained in the yard; and then he recalled his mother’s words I hope, that you will never leave the yard without permission, it would make me very sorry, if you did that, but I can certainly trust my little boy.”
“Ah!” though poor Willie, “if I had only remained in the yard, it would have been much better.”
It began to rain very hard, Willie ran to the end of the street, thinking that perhaps he would know the way, but he came just to the busiest part of the cite. He saw many stores there lit up; at first he looked at them delighted, but soon he was exhausted, he felt cold, wet and hungry.
At last it came into his head to ask someone the way; he approached an auto that was waiting for someone, and asked the chauffeur, if he could tell him where Mr. Robertson lived.
The man thinking that he was begging, did not answer. Poor Willie began to cry, and went to sit on a step; he felt so unhappy, but he could not remain there long, as a woman came out and drove him away.
A little while after this he followed a girl, and asked her if she knew where his father lived. The girl could not understand him, so throwing him a few cents she went on.
Willie thought his heart would break, but picked up the cents and bought a roll of bread with it.
“O! if I could only see my father or mother,” he cried out, “how happy I would be. I never would go away again!”
It was Saturday evening, and although it still rained, the streets were full of people. Willie was so pushed about in the crowd, that he tried to find a quieter place, where there were large, handsome houses. He could see into some of them. In one that was lit up, he saw a gentleman come in, who had just returned from his office, and the children all came to meet him. Some climbed on chairs to kiss him, and he took up the youngest in his arms.
“That’s the way we do at home.” said Willie to himself, “when father comes home. Ah, perhaps I shall never see him again, because I’m lost.”
A little farther on he saw a lady sitting at a window, reading to a little girl.
“Mother is now certainly reading aloud for our little Mina,” he thought. “What a bad boy I have been. They won’t want to have me anymore,” but although he said this, he still felt that it was not true, and began crying again.
“Father and mother are always so kind and loving to me,” he continued, “that I still think they would forgive me, if I could only get back to them.”
Then he went and stood in front of a store, and called out now and then: “O, father, come and get me!”
“Who must come and get you?” said a friendly woman to him.
“My father,” said the boy, “I have lost my way, and I want to get home so badly. Show me where to go, please.”
“I’ll gladly do so, if I can,” she said, taking him by the hand. “Do you think it’s very far?”
“I think it is. I’ve been disobedient and ran away, but I am so sorry,” said Willie sobbing, “I think they will still take me back.”
“They certainly will,” said the kind woman, “if you go to them, and tell them that you are sorry for what you have done. Poor boy! how pale you are, and how you tremble, I am afraid you are going to be sick.”
“I am so cold and hungry,” he said, “but if you will bring me home, I shall soon be better. The house is quite near to the park, and my father’s name is Robertson.”
“I know where the park is,” she answered, “and if we walk fast, we’ll soon be there.”
They went quite a way, and were not very far from the house, when they saw a man approaching. When he was close to them, he called out, “Is that you Willie?” And Willie answered sobbing: “Father, father, you found me at last. Can you forgive my disobedience?”
His father took him in his arms, and kissed him.
“Well, my boy, where have you been? We have been searching for you so long. How cold and wet you are! Come quickly home to mother, she is so anxious, and longing to see you again.”
The kind woman turned to leave, but Mr. Robertson first thanked her warmly for helping his little son.
As they walked on, Willie told his father what he had done; and his father forgave him, seeing that he was really sorry, then he brought him to his mother who was watching for him at the window.
“Mother,” sobbed Willie, “may I come back? I have been very disobedient, but I am sorry.”
I need not tell my readers, that she took him in her arms, just as he was, in his wet, dirty clothes, and told him that he was forgiven. Willie never knew before how much they loved him, or how much he loved them. They dressed him in clean, dry clothes, and after he had had a good supper, laid him in a warm bed. Willie never forgot the difference between being lost and being found again.
The next day he had a bad cold, and was kept in bed, but his mother came to sit beside him, and to have a talk with him.
“Perhaps you have found out now, my boy, why your father would not let you go out alone? We have been only a month in this house, and he was sure that you would lose your way. But I don’t want to speak to you about that. I only want to tell you of what it reminds me. It reminds me of a verse in the Bible.
“All we, like sheep, have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way.” You see, God says that we all went astray like sheep; that we each of us turned to his own way, that we have done things that He told us not to do, and many things that He told us to do we have left undone, so that we are sinners—we are utterly lost. Did you feel happy yesterday, when you thought of your disobedience, and knew that you had lost your way?”
“O, no! mother, I was so unhappy, I longed to see you, and tell you how unhappy I was.”
“I am glad to hear this, dear Willie; the Lord wishes also, that you should turn to Him. He wishes that you should be sorry for having disobeyed Him, and that you should long to have peace with Him. But you must first know and feel that you are a sinner. I will show you from God’s Word, that you are. Have you always loved God, even as a little child, with your whole heart?
“No, mother.”
“Well, by that you can see, if you are good or bad. Have you always in everything, obeyed your parents?”
“No, mother,” said Willie softly.
“I am not at all angry with you, my boy. I only want to point out to you that what the Bible says is true. Have you never said cross and angry words? Have you loved others as yourself? And don’t you often want to have the best things, instead of letting others have them?”
“Yes, mother, I have often done so.”
“Then you are a sinner, and cannot appear in God’s presence; you are then really lost.”
“I thought that I never again would lose my way,” said Willie.
“I hope that it will never happen in this manner, my dear boy. Were you not glad, when that friendly woman offered to take you home, and did you go with her directly, or did you stand hesitating?”
“I went with her directly, and O, how glad I was!”
“Dear Willie, I am now showing you the way you must take to turn to the Lord, do not wait, but go now to Him. I have proved to you that you are lost, that you can do nothing to help yourself; but just as your father went out to seek you, there is One who loves you, Who came to seek and to save you, and He is the Son of God. He waits with open arms to receive you, for a long time ago He came into this world, and took your sins on Himself, and died on the cross in your stead. He is called the good Shepherd, because He seeks the lost sheep; and when little boys and girls are sorry for their sins, when they feel that they are lost and cannot help themselves, but cry out to Jesus to save them, then He hears them and takes them up in His arms. Then they can come to God as their Father. He receives them as His children, for God is love; and even when the poor sinner is still far from Him, He loves him. Would you have liked it, if I had sent you away to be washed and dressed, before I took you in my arms?”
“O, no, mother dear, I could not have waited so long.”
“God does not tell you that you must wait until you are better, but that you must come just as you are with all your sins, and He will forgive you for Jesus’ sake. God and the angels will rejoice, because another sinner is washed in the blood of Jesus.”
“Now, my boy, I want you to remember these two verses. The first is, “All we, like sheep, have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” Isa. 53:66All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. (Isaiah 53:6).
ML-11/28/1920