Little Joe. Part 6.
Winter again had passed away in Joe’s home. Spring with all its beauty had come, when one Sunday morning, as Joe and his companions were playing around their door, they saw in the distance a traveler approaching, and watching as the stranger drew nearer, they found to their surprise, that it was a lady, on a little white pony. They were puzzled to know what could bring a lady to their house, but I dare say you can guess who it was, and why she came. Yes, God had answered the many prayers, which had been offered up during the winter for these little children, and quite unexpectedly a road had been cut through the woods, the swamps had been rendered passable and now Miss Brown could come with little difficulty Sunday by Sunday to teach the little ones about Jesus. But where could the Sunday school be held? That, too, was soon arranged. Mrs. Barnes was pleased to lend her house for the purpose, and when dinner was over, it was easily prepared. The house consisted of only one room, and that was not large; still, it held the necessary furniture—three double beds, a stove, table, sewing machine, bench, and mother’s rocking chair completed the list. The floor was made of hewn logs, and did not extend under the beds. Certainly the water ran in and lay there, in spring time; but that did not matter, as long as little Maria, the two-year-old toddler did not fall in and get drowned.
Word was soon sent to the neighboring house, and before long, Miss Brown, seated in the one chair, had an eager little audience on the bench before her. No one had any shoes or stockings. Their frocks and coats were shabby, and their hair unbrushed, but the nine pair of bright eyes never moved from their teacher’s face, as she told them for the first time, the story of Jesus, the Babe of Bethlehem. That Holy one, the Son of God, “who took upon Him the form of a servant and was made in the likeness of men.” For the first time they heard the glad tidings of great joy, proclaimed by the angels to the shepherds, that the Saviour had come, and was lying, a little infant in a manger.
It was long before they had heard enough, and when the lesson was closed with a little hymn, they begged hard that they might have Sunday-school again, next week.
And week after week, the Sunday-school grew; children coming from long distances to hear the word. Six little French children would come from the cottage a mile away, and four little Indian half breeds, from another direction, but all equally dear to God, all children for whom Christ died.
Sometimes the, boys were restless and mischievous; one day they jumped through the window to chase the pigs from the garden, but on the whole their behavior was good, and their interest never flagged, all through that long summer. But it is time I brought my long story to an end, and we must say good bye to Joe, and his family; perhaps someday we may meet them in that bright and glorious home above.
“I am glad,” one little girl said, “that I ever saw you, for I did not know I was a sinner, or that Jesus died, and now I know that He died for me, though I am a sinner.” Dear children can you say that too?
ML 06/10/1906