A mother was knitting on the porch of her house one afternoon. Her boy was playing with other children on the lawn.
Beyond the lawn was the river and on the opposite bank of it was a woods full of nuts and berries, and sweet-smelling leaves and flowers, and many other things which little children delight to gather.
“Let us cross to the woods,” said some of the bigger children.
“I shall cross too,” said the little boy whose mother was knitting at the door.
The ford was a little to the right and just out of his mother’s view. There were stepping-stones all the way across, and the little nutting and berrying pay got quite safely to the other side.
But the clouds had been darkening over the sky since the morning, and now it began to rain. First it came in heavy drops, then there was a peal of thunder, then torrents of rain came down. The bigger children hurried back to the ford, and one by one got over safely.
The little boy was last. The river had by this time risen. The stepping stones were beginning to be covered. The little man took one step, then a second, then he came to stone over which the river was flowing swiftly, and his heart failed. He wrung his hands with fear, and cried with a piercing cry.
The mother heard his cry and flew to the ford. She was too late. She could not reach her child—a broad black flood of water came thundering down between her boy and her.
“My child! my child!” she cried.
“Mother! mother! come for me,” cried the boy.
All the town came down to the riverside—men and women, young and old: but no one would venture across. They looked and pitied-they looked, and wrung their hands but they gave no help.
At that moment a young shepherd, leading his flock down from the mountains entered the town and saw the peril of the child. He left his sheep, and took great strides to the river side.
He did not heed the terrible roaring of the water over the stones. He stepped boldly from stone to stone. In the center the flood had carried some of them away.
He plunged into the stream. With strong arms he beat the water to the right and left. He pressed his feet against the currents, and swam right over to the boy.
With one arm he clasped the child, with the other he once more grappled with the flood. There was the roaring of the stream beneath, and the raging of the storm above, but the brave shepherd, partly walking and partly swimming, brought the boy to his mother.
That was a boy who found a saviour and the brave young shepherd saved him from death.
But God was the real Saviour that day. He sent the shepherd at the very right moment. He made him brave and strong to grapple with the flood, and every day somewhere God is saving children.
He has given Jesus to save us from a death more terrible than the death which threatened the little boy. He saves from the second death, which those who die in their sins must endure forever.
Jesus will save you from being shut out of heaven. Nothing that is naughty can enter there.
You have often been naughty. But Jesus will save you and wash your sins away, and open the door of heaven to you, if you will trust Him.
He is willing to save you now, just as you are. Cast yourself into His arms.
ML 07/16/1944