“I’m bad, but you’s good.”
“WHAT hath God wrought.” So we sometimes exclaim when some hardened sinner becomes a humble saint―when some fierce persecutor becomes a preacher of the faith which once he destroyed, or when “out of the mouth of babes and suckling’s he ordains praise.”
It is of the latter that the following truthful little narrative tells.
In the beginning of 1886 little James D―, owing to a family bereavement, was sent to stay for a time with an aunt at a town some distance from his own home. “Wee Jamsie,” as he was called, was only seven years old, but being so small, looked two years younger.
Neither in his own home, nor in the one he had come to, was the Lord Jesus known or loved, so as was said of Samuel, it was also true of him, “he did not yet know the Lord” (1 Sam. 3:77Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, neither was the word of the Lord yet revealed unto him. (1 Samuel 3:7)), but he was not too young for the purposes of God’s grace.
One Saturday, while standing in a neighbor’s workshop, watching the swift-flying shuttles of the hand-loom weavers, a Christian woman near whose loom he was standing, and whose heart was at the time enjoying a sweet sense of the love of God, spoke to the little boy a few words about the blessed Lord Jesus. He looked up at her with a puzzled expression on his face, and asked―
“But who is that?”
“Oh, Jamsie, don’t you know about the Lord Jesus?”
Jamsie shook his head and again asked, “Who is He?”
“Did you never hear, Jamsie, about the One who lives up in the bright, bright glory, who always sees us, and who loves us so?” asked Mrs. M―
“Oh, is that the good Man who lives up in the sky; I’ve heard about Him, but I never knew His name before;” and then, in rather a surprised tone, he asked, “Do you know Him?”
“Yes,” replied Mrs. M―, with a smile, “and I love Him, and would like you to know and love Him too, Jamsie.”
During this conversation Mrs. M―had paused in her work, but being the bread-winner for her little household, she knew that she must work constant and hard. Then, seeing the little boy looking so interested, she said, “If you like to come to my house tomorrow afternoon, I will tell you more about the Lord Jesus.”
Jamsie readily promised, and wearied for the time to come round. It seemed long, but at last it did come, and he hastened off to the garret room of his new friend, to hear the wonderful story of Jesus and His love.
Mrs. M―was alone at the time, and drawing the little boy close to her, she began to tell him, in simple words, of that wonderful love that was filling and overflowing her own heart, of how He had left the bright glory to come and die, to bear our punishment, of how He had been nailed upon the cross, and put into the grave, of how He rose again, and is now in the glory as Saviour. It was the first time that the story had fallen upon the little one’s ears, and he listened with breathless attention, his earnest up-turned face and eyes fixed upon his friend, showing that it was all sinking deep down into his heart.
Let me ask you, who are reading this, Is it thus you have received the Gospel of the grace of God? If so, if you are indeed the Lord’s, is it your delight to speak of Him even to the little ones who cross your path? Remember it is written, “Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters” (Isa. 32:2020Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters, that send forth thither the feet of the ox and the ass. (Isaiah 32:20)). “But does the Lord Jesus know me?” Jamsie asked earnestly,
“Yes, dear boy, He knows and loves you.”
A shadow crept over his young face as he said falteringly, “Ah, but―but I’m bad.”
“Jesus knows that,” said his friend, “but still He loves you.”
“But I’ve told lies,” continued Jamsie, with his eyes still fixed upon her face.
“Jesus knows that, but He loves you,” repeated his friend.
The little boy’s voice sank to a whisper as he said, “But I’ve said bad, bad words, too.”
“Yes, Jamsie, the Lord Jesus knows how bad you are, but He died for you, just because you were bad, and because He loves you. He wants you to let in His love, and to be His,” said his friend earnestly.
Jamsie was silent for a little, and then he burst out, “Oh, I want to love Him, and to be His; what’ll I say to Him?”
It was Mrs. M―’s turn to be silent now, for it was the first time that an “inquirer” had turned to her to ask the way, and she was afraid to tell him wrong.
“I do so want to love Him,” again pleaded Jamsie earnestly; “tell me what to say.”
“Well, Jamsie, just tell the Lord Jesus so,” she answered simply. “He will bear you and make you His.”
As they knelt together in that little room, Jamsie covered his face with both his hands, and sobbed out, “Lord Jesus, I’m bad, but You’s good, and loves me; make me Yours.”
It was a touching, but a solemn scene, for Mrs. M―felt that this was the work of the Spirit of God in the child’s soul, and with bowed head, and in broken words amid her tears, she, too, prayed and commended the little one to God. And if it was said by the heavenly messenger about Saul of Tarsus, “Behold, he prayeth,” so also it was said now.
A look of peace rested upon Jamsie’s face as they rose from their knees, and after a little more talk, he kissed his friend and bade her good-night. But after going half-way down the stair he returned and asked earnestly, “If I feel turning had again, what’ll I do?”
“Just tell the Lord Jesus, Jamsie.”
“But if somebody’s in at Aunt Ellen’s, and I can’t get kneeling down and telling Him, what’ll Idol”
“The Lord Jesus always sees, always hears, always loves you, and He is always near to help you, dear Jamsie; you can speak to Him in the house, or on the stairhead, or on the street, or anywhere, and He always listens, whether you kneel or not.”
Greatly comforted, the little boy again kissed her, and departed. When he reached his aunt’s, several people were in gossiping about the news of the day. Soon his aunt undressed him and put him to bed, tucking him well up in the blankets. Jamsie lay quite still for a little while, then he suddenly sat up in bed, and with beaming face exclaimed, “Oh, I’m that happy, for Jesus loves me.”
Jamsie now longed to hear more about the Lord, and watched for every opportunity of getting his friend alone, so that he might hear of Him, and very sweet were the talks they had together.
It was after one of these talks that Jamsie suddenly inquired, “But when will we see Jesus, I would so like to see Him?”
“Well, Jamsie, we shall see Him soon, for before He went away up to the glory, He said that He would come again and receive us unto Himself, and He won’t forget to come; some day―maybe ere long―He will give a shout that none will hear except those who love Him; but every one of them will hear it, even though they have died and been put in the grave; they will hear His voice, and be raised in a moment, and both they and we shall be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord, and then we shall be forever with Him, and shall forever see Him.”
Mrs. M―had spoken slowly but earnestly of what was the joy and hope of her own soul. The little boy had been drinking in every word, and the light of her face was reflected in his. Sometime later on in the day, while in the workshop, where he was a general favorite, he stood gazing absently into the fire.
One of the workers, an old man, noticing his absorbed look, said to him kindly, “Now, Jamsie, take care and don’t burn yourself at that good fire.”
“No, no, I’ll not burn myself,” said the little boy, slowly; then looking up into his face, he asked eagerly, “Will it be long till Jesus comes, and we’ll all fly up?”
The old man was quite taken aback by surprise, for though a professing Christian, he was neither looking nor longing for the Lord, and, shaking his head, said, “I can’t tell you that, Jamsie; was you expecting to fly up?”
“Yes,” said Jamsie, confidently; “whenever He comes for me.”
“Well, you will need to be a very good boy then.”
“Oh! but it’s Jesus that makes me good, for I asked Him.”
“And what did you say?” asked the old man with much interest.
The little boy colored deeply at being called upon to make such a public confession, for the other workers were listening; but covering his face with both his hands, said, “Lord Jesus, I’m bad, but You are good, and loves me; make me good, too. Amen.”
The tears ran down the old man’s cheeks as he answered, “The very thing, Jamsie, the very thing; there is no fear but you will fly up when Jesus comes.”
How true that “out of the mouth of babes and suckling’s thou hast perfected praise.”
One day another Christian remarked, “Isn’t it kind of the Lord Jesus to love us so, Jamsie?”
“Yes,” he replied, “but it is our turn to love Him now.”
Jamsie was but poorly clad, for all his friends were in humble circumstances, and knew well what straits were. One cold day, as he took his accustomed seat beside his friend in her little room, he looked at his worn-out boots, and remarked, “See the big holes in my boots; I wish I had a pair of new ones.”
Mrs. M―looked compassionately at the old boots and sighed. How gladly she would have bought him new ones, but she had a hard struggle as it was to make both ends meet, and knew that she could not, so she only said, “Well, Jamsie, we can tell the Lord about it.”
“Can you tell the Lord when you are needing new boots?” Jamsie asked in astonishment.
“Yes, dear boy, I tell Him all my troubles; He likes us to do so.”
“We will tell Him just now then,” said Jamsie, in a decided tone. And together they knelt, while, in his simple, childish way he told the Lord of his old boots, and asked Him to send him new ones. Mrs. M― followed, putting in the clause, “If it be Thy will”
After they rose from their knees, Jamsie stood for some time thoughtfully looking out at the window, then he asked, “Will He just drop them right down from the skies?”
“Oh, no,” replied his friend, smiling, “I don’t think He will do that, but He will maybe put it into somebody’s heart to buy them.”
An hour later she was busy at her work, when the door opened, and Jamsie’s bright face peeped in. “I’m to get them,” he whispered.
“Get what?” she inquired.
“My boots!” he exclaimed, astonished that she should have forgotten already.
“How did it happen, Jamsie?”
“Aunt Ellen told me just now to wash my face, for she was going to take me to the shop to buy me a pair; but it was Jesus made her.” And off he set to get ready.
One evening, after another of their talks, he asked suddenly, “Where do you get to know all this about the Lord Jesus?”
Mrs. M―rose, and going to a chamber, brought out a small New Testament, with gilt edges.
“This is where I get to know about Jesus, Jamsie; this is His book, it’s all about Him; and I am going to give it to you, and you will by-and-by learn to read it for yourself.”
Jamsie took the book with reverence, though he could not read it. He felt that it was a treasure, since it told of the One whom he had now learned to love.
Shortly after this, when in the house of another Christian, he noticed the bookcase, with its rows of books, and asked, “Is all they books about the Lord Jesus?”
“Oh, no, Jamsie; some of them are, but not all of them.”
“I have a book,” said the little boy, “and it is His book, for it’s all about Him.”
Speaking of it afterward, this Christian said, “There was such a look of holy joy in that child’s face that I felt like pulling all the books out of the bookcase, and burning every one which was not all about Him.”
Yes, it is true that “out of the mouth of babes and suckling’s God perfects praise.”
Jamsie soon found his way to a little room where one who loved the Lord gathered in a few little ones weekly to tell them of Him. Very cheering to that one’s heart was the eager, earnest face of the little boy, telling as it did of the opened ear and the receptive heart.
More than once, too, during the singing he unconsciously drew all eyes upon him by the energy with which he sang the hymn he learned first, and of which he never tired―
“Jesus loves me though I’m bad,
And He waits to make me glad,
Waits to fold me in His arm,
Keep me safe from every harm”
But these happy times were soon to end. One day he came to his friend with a very grave face, and the tears evidently not far away. A letter had come from his father to say he was coming to take his little boy home again.
“Well, Jamsie,” said Mrs. M —, soothingly, “that won’t take you away from the Lord Jesus, He is able to keep you there, just as well as here.”
Jamsie covered his face to hide the tears, and sobbed out, “But I’m feared I forget Him, for they doesn’t love Him there.”
“Maybe that is why He is sending you home, Jamsie, that you may tell them of Him.”
The little face grew bright again. He had not thought of this, and from that moment he was eager to go.
His Christian friends parted from him with tears, for he had become very dear to them. Very distinctly had the Master’s voice been saying to them, “Feed my lambs,” and they had been tasting of the sweetness and privilege of doing so.
It is with the earnest desire that others of His own may thus hear His voice, and turn with fresh interest to care for the little ones, that this story is told; while once again we would transcribe those precious words, “Out of the mouth of babes and suckling’s THOU hast perfected praise.” Y. Z.