Let me tell you about a little girl named Marde, who used to come to Sunday School in the mission bungalow in far off India.
I used to go down each Tuesday to give the little boys and girls of the village what they called “sewing-class.” That is, I took a few pieces of cloth, and a few needles and some thread. As soon as I arrived at Marde’s house, she would skip out all smiles, tuck up her little saree, and run off to call all the other boys and girls. They used to gather round, all squatted on the ground, and we would sing gospel choruses uses together. Then each one would thread a needle and begin to sew. Some made big stitches like spiders’ legs, and others did it very nicely.
While they sewed, they learned a verse of Scripture and a verse of a hymn to be sung at Sunday School. When the sewing was over, we would sing again, and oh what a noise they made. Fathers and mothers, and bigger brothers and sisters used to gather to listen, and then we would tell them all the wonderful story of the love of God in sending the Lord Jesus to die for poor sinners. Little Marde loved and believed in Jesus, and never tired of hearing and singing of Him. She told all her friends of how Jesug had died to wash her sins away.
One Sunday Marde was not at the school, and so on Tuesday we went to her home to see if she was sick.
“No,” said her mother, “Marde is not sick, but we have given her to a man to be his wife, and she is out working in his fields.”
Poor Marde! Our hearts felt so sorry for her, but there was nothing that we could do, except to thank God that she had trusted the Lord Jesus, and we knew that He was watching over her. Although we never saw her at Sunday School again, I know that we shall see her in heaven where she will be forever happy.
Dear young reader, I hope you have the privilege of going to Sunday School. And I hope still more that you believe in, and love, the Lord Jesus who died that boys and girls might know their sins forgiven.
ML 10/28/1951