MY DEAR SISTERS,—You well know the deep sorrow through which we have been called to pass, in the illness and death of our precious little Dottie; but while sorely distressed on account of our loss, we do greatly rejoice in the exceeding grace of God manifested to and in our darling; and for the praise of him who said, “Suffer the little ones to come unto me;” and to encourage you to bring your own dear children early to Jesus, I want to tell you how sweetly our darling’s heart was drawn to Jesus, when a babe of less than three years old.
We received her as a precious gift from the Lord, in the place of our sweet Katie, whom he had taken to himself about sixteen months previously; and sweetly did she fill the void, for she grew full of life and love, and was so open and winning, that all who knew her loved her; and she was, so to speak, the sunshine of our home. The memory of her short sojourn here is very precious, with scarcely one sorrowful exception. Our great desire was to lead her little heart to Jesus; and oh, how graciously were our desires met, and our efforts blessed! The Lord indeed caused the seed sown to take root, and bear fruit an hundredfold; to his dear name be all the praise!
Before our darling was two years old, the sweet tale of Jesus taking little children in his arms and blessing them, had won her heart, and she would listen with intense delight while told about it. As soon as she could talk, she would get on my lap, and say, “Now, ma, tell me about Jesus;” and resting her head on my bosom would listen as long as I would speak to her, and then say, “I like that.”
Her brother Charlie had a book with many pictures, that pleased her exceedingly, but none of them so much as one of the crucifixion; this she would select from all the others (indeed the page is quite soiled with her reference to it), and with her elbows on the table, and her little head in her hands, she would look at it a long time, and then say, “That’s Jesus; he died for us; he loves us;” and the quiet confidence of her manner showed that she comprehended the precious truth. Indeed, I believe one of the first things that she felt and believed was that she was a sinner; Jesus died for her. Well may we say with the Lord Jesus, “I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast bid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes.” About this time she wanted “to learn a little prayer to say to Jesus,” and one of her sisters taught her―
“Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look upon a little child;
Put thy gracious hand on me,
And make me all I ought to be.”
Kneeling in her sister’s lap, she would repeat these words, and then of her own accord would add, “Please, Jesus, make me good;” and as she grew older, other little petitions were added, with all the simplicity of an infant’s heart. She would never omit her little prayer, if she could help it; but more than once, when I have gone to look at her in bed, supposing she was asleep, she has said, “I have not said my prayer, mamma; I must get out of bed and say my prayer;” and then she would do so with such earnest simplicity, and afterward go to bed so happy; when she had her good-night kiss, she would often say, “I not afraid, ma.; Jesus can see me,” and at another time would add, “God never goes to sleep.”
Her faith and trust in Jesus was very precious, and she seemed to delight in the thought that he saw her always. The manner in which she spoke of him was at times almost startling; she always did so with the greatest solemnity, and yet as a real living person, one who loved her, and whom she loved.
God she seemed to know as a Father, and would say, “God gives me food and nice clothes, and takes care of me” (Matt. 6:3232(For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. (Matthew 6:32)); but of Jesus her constant tale was, “He died for us; he can make us well,’ evidently in her heart appreciating the precious truth in one of her hymns —
“He went about, he was so kind,” &c.
I had often told her of her two little sisters in heaven, and one day, after telling her again how happy they were, I added, “They see Jesus;” she looked up, and, in her own sweet assured manner, said, “I shall some when.” Precious child! I little thought that in a few months she would see him whom, unseen, she loved. She had a most retentive memory, and was intelligent beyond her age; before she was three years old, she could repeat many hymns, and was very fond of singing. Her grandmamma gave her a little book, “Tracts for Children,” and she had it read to her till she knew all the tales the pictures were about; but the hymns pleased her most, and as they were read to her, she would say of one, “That’s a prayer,” of another, “That’s a hymn,” and again, “I shall sing that to Jesus.” It was not only her delight in hearing about Jesus, but the sweet, intelligent remarks she made showed how fully she understood what she heard, and her eyes would brighten with joy as she heard of the love of Jesus.
Her love to the Bible, which she called “God’s book,” was very great; and although she could not read, she had a Testament of her own, and always held it open at our morning reading; scarcely a day passed without her bringing it to me, and saying, “Now, mamma, read to me about Jesus,” and with great delight she would listen to the oft-repeated tale of Jesus dying and rising again, and of his wonderful works while living, and respond to all most sweetly.
She had a beautiful manner of responding to what was said to her, and, for instance, when repeating to her the hymn,
“I think, when I read that sweet story of old,”
she would say at the end of each verse, “Ah, I wish I had!” “Yes, I do,” &c.
She was very fond of Bible stories, especially of David’s killing the lion, and rescuing the lamb. I recollect once telling her that David loved his lambs, and would not let the lion have one; that was like Jesus, he loved his lambs, and would not let Satan have one of them; but that Jesus did more than David, he killed the lion, but Jesus died for his lambs. She took up the thought directly, and made some sweet remarks which I have now forgotten; but I know my heart greatly rejoiced at her faith in the love of Jesus, and as long as she lived, Jesus as the Good. Shepherd had a peculiar hold on her heart.
The following hymn she was very fond of, and in her dying hour it gave her comfort: —
“A little lamb went straying
Among the hills one day,
Leaving its faithful shepherd,
Because it loved to stray.
And while the sun shone brightly,
It knew no thought of fear,
For flowers around were blooming,
And balmy was the air.
But night came over quickly,
The hollow breezes blew,
The sun soon ceased its shining,
All dark and dismal grew.
The little lamb stood bleating,
And well indeed it might,
So far from home and shepherd,
And on so dark a night.
But, ah! the faithful shepherd
Soon missed the little thing,
And onward went to seek it,
And home again to bring.
He sought on hill and valley,
And called it by its name.
He sought, nor ceased his seeking,
Until he found his lamb.
Then to his gentle bosom
The little lamb he pressed;
And as he bore it homewards,
He fondly it caressed.
The little lamb was happy
To find itself secure;
The shepherd, too, was joyful,
Because his lamb he bore.
And now, dear little children,
There’s a Shepherd up on high,
Who came to seek the straying,
Who all deserved to die.
For sin each lamb had ruined,
And far from God had led;
But, oh, what love unbounded!
He suffered in their stead.
On the Sunday-school being opened, she greatly desired to go, but being so very young (only two and a half years), we objected, but her pleadings prevailed, and ever after, nothing could induce her to stay away. There she soon learned to sing hymns, and then, as she nursed her doll, or played about, her little voice, clear and strong, would be heard singing some of her hymns, but most frequently, “There is a happy land;” “Glory, glory, glory;” “Here’s a message of love;” and “Mothers of Salem.” These she loved, and often when she has sung her hymn has she said (with a look I cannot describe), “I shall sing that to Jesus, ma; God will let me, won’t he?” Truly, “Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings God has perfected praise.”
The Lord’s-day was one of especial enjoyment to her; entirely of her own accord she would lay aside her playthings, and as each blessed day returned, very soon after breakfast, she would say, “I must not play on Sundays; but I may have my book and my pencil, and you must read me my hymn.” This hymn was on an illuminated card, and greatly treasured by her, for it was the echo of her own little thoughts―
“‘Tis Sunday morning, dear mamma,
I do not wish to play;
Last night I put my dolls and toys
Safe in my box away.
I’ll, come and sit down by your side,
While you the story tell,
Of the good little Joseph, whom
His father loved so well.
And how the infant Moses, too,
Floated the Nile along,
And how his mother made for him
The basket-cradle strong.
Please tell these Bible stories, then,
And take me on your knee,
And I’ll sit still, my dear mamma,
And listen quietly.”
(To be continued.)