ONE cold, cheerless Sunday night a poor woman was hurrying down one of the crowded streets of the metropolis, and her lace wore such an anxious look that I inquired the cause of her trouble. “I have lost my little boy,” said she; “he went to Sunday school this afternoon, and he has not come home. His father and I are almost distracted, and I am now going to the police station to see if he has been taken there.” Perhaps my young readers may know that when the police find lost boys or girls they take charge of them until their friends claim them. “Let me help you,” said I, so we hurried to the nearest police station. We entered a bare room, where stood several blue-coated police. We told our errand, and a ray of hope lit up the poor mother’s face as a policeman pointed to a dark corner of the room, where a little boy was lying upon a bench. His face was towards the wall, his head had fallen on his breast, and he lay fast asleep. The mother hastened towards him, hoping that the little fellow was her boy, but as the flare of the gas fell upon his face her hopes were crushed. It was not her son. Her sorrow became greater through the disappointment; but though weary and dispirited, she hurried to the next station. It was some distance off, and I could not accompany her.
I want you, my young friends, to look at that boy lying on the form. Such a dear, rosy-faced little fellow he was, and seemed as happy as possible. He was lost, yet fast asleep―lost, but unconscious of it, sleeping as peacefully and quietly as if he were safe in his little bed at home. He had forgotten all about the hard bench, and the blue-coated and brass-buttoned men that tramped in and out of the stone-floored room. He was not disturbed by the sin and misery of which a police station speaks. I wonder if that sleeping boy is a picture of yourself. Are you unconscious of the dreadful fact that you are lost? that you are away from God, and away from all true peace, and joy, and love? Are you saying, I feel comfortable; I do not feel that I am lost? The little sleeper does not feel that he is lost, he appears quite peaceful, but that does not alter the fact that he is lost. And God says all are lost; for all who, since Adam left the beautiful garden God placed him in, are away from God and lost. Perhaps you know that you are lost, but like another little boy of whom I will tell you, you are not troubled.
One Sunday afternoon, as I was leaving our schoolroom, I saw a little fellow lingering behind. He had forgotten where he lived, and as he did not belong to my class, I did not know his name or address. “Can you point out the direction in which you live, my boy?” “Oh, yes,” he said; “that is the way, sir. ‘‘Then take my hand and run along,” said I. Presently we came to a crossing. “Which is the way now?” “That way,” he said. “Are you quite sure?’ I asked. “Yes, quite sure, sir.” So we were soon trotting along again. After a few minutes I again asked him, “Are we in the right way?” “Oh, yes; quite right,” he replied. We now came to another crossing, and I said, “I feel sure that this cannot be the right way.” Then the little boy confessed that he did not know where he was. What was to be done? After a little consideration I decided to take him home with me, where he was soon happily engaged enjoying cake and tea. But his parents were full of anxiety. His father had gone in search of him, and having learned that his boy had been seen with me he hastened to my house, and I cannot tell you how happy he was to find his son. The little boy had taken exactly the opposite direction to that which led to his home. This boy was lost but self-confident. He did not cry, was not troubled, and if left alone would have wandered until the shades of night had proved to him with terrible truth that he was lost. This is a picture of many children. They have a way of their own to be saved, and are confident that it is the right one. Some people say there are a great many ways of being saved, but God’s word only tells us of one way, and if you are trying to be saved any other way than through Jesus and what He has done you are only getting farther and farther away from God, and if you delay coming to Jesus that long, dark, terrible night of judgment will overtake you, and then you cannot be saved at all.
I will now tell you of another lost child. One Sunday evening I noticed a group oi men, women and children, collected around a policeman. Upon looking inside the circle, I saw a girl sobbing bitterly. By her side was a tiny baby sister, who could only just walk. I quickly learned the girl’s trouble. Her parents had recently removed from a distant part of London to a new neighborhood, and in the afternoon the children had gone in search of a Sunday school, but had forgotten to notice the name of the street in which was their new home School was dismissed, and in vain they tried to find their way back, they did not know which way to go. The terrible truth had dawned upon them that they were lost. Pool children, how they longed for home, for one sight of mother, and to hear their father’s voice once more. These children were lost, but anxious to be saved. Not one of the crowd around her could direct the poor girl, and how she got home I could not tell.
Now, my little reader, are you anxious and troubled because you are lost and away from God? Do you desire to be saved? Are you in earnest? Oh, if you are lost, but anxious to be saved, I have such good news for you. My Saviour, who sought and found me, is longing to have you in His happy home, and close to His heart of love. I think you know this beautiful text — “The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which is lost.” Jesus is the seeker as well as the finder of the lost. He is seeking you even by these words which you read.
The poor mother did not know where her child was; but Jesus knows all about you and says to you, “Come unto Me... I will give you rest.” Yes, such sweet rest, for He puts the little lambs in His bosom, and His everlasting arms are underneath them, and He gently whispers to each boy and girl who trusts in Him, “I will never leave thee,” “And no one shall pluck them out of my hand.”
My first lost child was “careless and fast asleep;” my second, “careless and self-confident;” but I trust that you are “anxious to be saved.”
H. N.