Many years ago I went to see a very poor woman who was ill with bronchitis. After talking with her for some time, I asked her if she had no friend that could help her a little. “No,” she said, “I have none; all are dead, all are gone.”
“Are you quite sure you have no friend?” I said.
“Well, the only one I know of is Queen Victoria,” was the surprising answer, “but I’m sure she’s forgotten me—it’s so long ago.”
“What does Queen Victoria know of you?” I asked.
“It was when she was a young lady about sixteen that the sailor who steered her boat at the Isle of Wight, and who was a great favorite of hers, was taken very ill. I nursed him until he died, and at that time the Queen said she would never forget me.”
“Well,” I said, “I’m sure she will be as good as her word. Shall I write to her for you?”
“It’s no use,” she said. “It’s so long ago.”
I did not agree with the poor woman, and said nothing; but when I reached home, I sat down and wrote a letter to Queen Victoria. I brought the facts before her, telling her how poor and needy the old woman of seventy was.
The letter was put into just a plain envelope, but it was directed to Her Majesty Queen Victoria, Balmoral,
Scotland.
The Queen answered me.
In a few days I got a large envelope, sealed with a huge black seal, with the Queen’s arms on the envelope, addressed to me. It contained a gracious letter and a money order for the poor woman. Oh! how delighted I was, for now I had received a gift from the Queen’s own heart to offer my poor friend, which I knew she sorely needed.
Next morning I put the letter in my pocket and started off for the poor woman’s house. I walked quickly enough, for three reasons:
First, I had a gift from the Queen.
Second, I knew the woman needed it.
Third, I knew she would gladly take it.
I knocked at the door, and was shown into the little bare room occupied by the poor woman and her husband, who, though over seventy, was still working as a gardener.
“How are you today?” I asked, quite innocently. “Oh, very bad; I shiver dreadfully this cold weather, and my cough shakes me to pieces.”
After another word or two I thought it was time to offer the Queen’s gift, so I just put my hand in my pocket, and said: “Can you read?”
“Oh, yes, with my glasses.”
“Well, here’s something that may interest you,” and I pulled out the letter, and gave it to her.
She put on her glasses, and with her aged hands trembling, held up the letter to read it. The first line was enough. The mingled look of blank astonishment and of speechless thankfullness I shall never forget. It was a great joy to me to see how the Queen’s letter was received.
Then she took up the money order and said, “Praise the Lord! Only last night I was shivering, and thought, Whatever shall I do this winter for clothes; and He said to me, I took care of you last winter, and I will care for you this winter, too, and so He has.
But oh! how kind, how good of the Queen. I never thought she could remember me. But what am I to do with this order?”
“You must do one thing,” I said. “Can you write your name?”
“Yes, well enough, only my hands tremble so.”
“Well, before you can get the money, you must sign your name here.
As I left the woman rejoicing in the gift, she said, “I will not tell my husband; it might excite him too much.”
But the next time I went, I asked, “What about your husband?”
“Ah!” she said, “I had to tell him. I couldn’t keep it in.”
I am sure that none of you can receive God’s blessed gift of salvation and a Saviour without showing a real change in your life and ways. The great mistake is to think that the change should come first. No; the shawl the poor woman bought with part of the Queen’s money, followed the gift. Will you take God’s great gift—this pardon from all your sins? Will you now believe His Word that Christ has been wounded, bruised, punished, crucified, forsaken, put to death for YOU, and instead of YOU? Oh, believe this now, and tell God you have accepted His gift at last.
“He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed.” Isaiah 53:5.
ML 10/24/1954