Walter.
WHEN about seven years old I was first sent to school. In these days the Bible was freely taught in Scotland, and the classes opened by praise and prayer. One of the first hymns I remember being taught to sing was one which perhaps you know―
“Lord, a little band and lowly,
We are come to sing to thee;
Thou art great and high and holy,
Oh! how solemn we should be.”
Our teacher was a kind man, and we all loved him. There were six or seven boys in my class. One in particular I can fancy I see now. His name was Walter. He had clear blue eyes, a broad forehead, and a sweet expression on his face. He was dressed in a green tartan frock. The master sometimes had fun with us. One day Walter had a bun, ―cookies, we call them, ―and the teacher asking him for a bit, he simply and generously gave it all into his hand. The master took it, and pretended he was eating it; then laughingly returned it, saying that he was a good boy, and he only did it in fun. Of course we all laughed. Soon however Walter had to leave school, as his parents were removing to Aberdeen. A few days afterward our teacher, when we were all gathered together, told us, with tears in his eyes, that the ship Walter sailed in was wrecked, and all were drowned. He told us also how Walter loved Jesus, and how He had taken him suddenly by a watery grave to be with Himself, which was “far better.”
We all felt very solemn, and a lump rose up in our throats, to think that our companion had perished so sadly.
Now, let me ask, dear children, Are you ready to die? You may not even have to lie on a sick-bed, and have no time at last to repent. Some boys bathing at Inverkeithing last summer were drowned in presence of their comrades, and in view of people on the beach, who could have rescued them. They had been calling out pretending they were drowning, but, alas! they got into deep water, and when they cried in reality there was none to help. Oh! be saved by faith in Jesus now; don’t wait till you grow up, for sin’s power grows stronger, and the world more enticing, and you may perish like the silly moth which hovers round the candle flame.
“Remember death may find you,
When you’re young;
Now friends are often weeping,
And the stars their watch are keeping
O’er the grassy graves where sleeping
Lie the young.”
It would be an awful thing to die in your unbelief and sin, and go to meet God, awaking, like the world-loving rich man we read of in Luke 16, in hell, “being in torments,” never, never to get out again. Life is very uncertain. A father told me that one morning his wife kindled the kitchen fire and left his little daughter beside it in her nightdress. The mother left her for a few minutes, when she heard piercing screams. On rushing back, she found her darling child enveloped in flames. She died a few hours afterward. Oh! what sorrowful hearts are to be found on the earth.
A bright school-girl was on her way home from Princes Street railway-station. She had been a little late, and the train was moving off. She caught hold of the carriage to jump on, but missed her hold, and fell in between the platform and the wheels. She was killed. What sorrowing hearts must have been at home when the corpse was carried in!
We all grieve, and are very sad, over people’s suffering bodies, but how little we think about, and mourn over lost souls! Ah! dear child, you have a soul; God has given it to you, and you must exist forever. You have sinned against God, and deserve sin’s wages, which is death. But God’s only begotten Son has been on earth, and died; He bore sin’s punishment―out of love to you. He does not wish you to perish, but to believe on Him and live. Trust Him, and know His everlasting love. When you, in your heart, believe His great love to you, you cannot help loving Him back again. You do not try to love those who love you, but can’t help loving them. Believe, then, in God’s love in Christ Jesus to you. “In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him.” We love Min, because He first loved us.
A dying child was asked by her doctor, “Do you love Jesus?” No answer; she was very weak. Again he asked, “Do you love Jesus?” No answer. “Does Jesus love you?” Her eyes opened, her lips parted, and with a sweet smile she threw up her hands, saying, “Yes! yes!!” God grant that this may be your confession, and that you may love Him who first loved you. T. R. D.