A CITY missionary, one Saturday night, was going home with a basket of provisions on his arm. Meeting a policeman, he asked him if there had any families moved in the bounds of his beat during the week. He answered, “Yes;” and pointing to a building up an alley said, “A woman and some children are living there now.”
The missionary went to the house, rapped at the door, and was admitted. The woman was sitting by a small light, sewing. In the corner of the room were two little girls, apparently from nine to twelve years of age, playing.
The missionary said, “I am here to see if you will allow your girls to attend Sunday School tomorrow morning.”
“I would; but what you see on them is all the clothing they have, and you would not wish them to go as they are now.”
“The Lord will provide. Have you no money?”
“Not yet, but I have committed my case into the hands of the Lord.”
“Have you anything to eat?” “Nothing, sir!”
“What will you do for breakfast?”
“O, sir, I once had a husband; he provided when he could. These children had a father; he supplied their wants; but he is dead now. Yet my Maker, even God, is my husband, and He has promised to be a father to the fatherless. We have committed all to Him, have called upon Him in this our day of trouble. I am trusting in God to take care of a poor widow and her children in a strange place, and I know He will provide.”
“Thank God for such faith!” said the missionary; and handing her the basket, said, “Here is your breakfast, and you shall have the clothing for your children.” With tears streaming down her face she replied:
“O, thank God for His faithfulness! He heareth and answereth prayer. May He bless you!” And, said our dear brother to us, “I felt the promise was sure, for if she was blessed in receiving, I was more so in giving.”
ML 07/21/1918