A LITTLE girl once had a bed of strawberries, and she was very anxious that they should ripen and be fit to eat.
“Now, for a feast,” said her brother to her one morning, as he picked up some beautiful ones for her to eat.
“I cannot eat these,” said she, “for they are the first ripe fruit.”
“Well,” said her brother, “all the more reason for our making a feast, for they are the greater treat.”
“Yes, but they are the first ripe fruit.”
“Well, what of that?” “Dear father told us that he used to give God the first out of all the money he made, and that then he always felt happier in spending the rest; and I wish to give God the first of my strawberries too.”
“Ah! but,” said her brother, “how can you give strawberries to God? And even if you could, He would not care for them.”
“Oh, I have found out a way,” said she; “Jesus said, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me;’ and I mean to go with them to Mrs. Perkins’ dying child, who never has a strawberry; they are so poor.”
Away went the children to give them to the dying girl; and when they saw her put out her thin arms and take the ripe round fruit in her little shriveled fingers, and when they saw her eyes glisten, and her little faded lips smile, they felt as if they had a richer treat than if they had kept the ripe fruit themselves; and something within them told them that God had accepted their little offering.