DURING the sad winter of 1816-1817 a time of famine in almost the whole of Europe, a little boy, named Joseph, called one evening at a lone farmhouse, to ask if he might lodge there for the night. He was pale and thin and his eyes were hollow; and any one might see how hungry he was; and though it was very cold he was thinly clad, and he had nothing with him but a small bag in which there seemed to be something heavy. As he entered the farmyard, a great dog barked loudly, and, rushing from his kennel, would have hurt the little stranger, but that it was chained. Joseph drew back in great fear; but seeing that the dog was chained, he took courage and stepped carefully into the yard. The people in the house had heard the noise, and one of the maids came out to see who was there. Still trembling with fright, Joseph asked her if he might pass the night in the stable. She returned at once to her master and told him of the boy’s request. The master, happening to be in a good humor, threw her a hot potato, saying, “Take him this and show him to the stable.” From her own supper this kind maid took another potato; and bringing both to the cold and hungry child, she spoke tenderly to him, led him to a warm corner of the stable, and gave him a fresh bundle of straw, on which to lie. Left alone thus in the dark but warm stable, Joseph’s first act was to kneel down and pray; thanking God at the same time for the kindness he had just received: After prayer, he ate his two potatoes, and soon fell asleep.
Whene’er I take my walks abroad,
How many poor I see!
What shall I render to the Lord
For all His gifts to me?
“But who was Joseph? and whence had he come?” He was the child of a poor weaver, who lived at Graubundten, in Switzerland. This honest man had worked hard for his family, and brought up his children in the fear of God. His wife was a pious woman, and a kind, faithful mother to her children. Joseph clung to her with all his heart. She had nursed him tenderly.
She had taught him to read, to learn passages from the Bible, and to repeat hymns; and she had often spoken to him of the Lord Jesus Christ. God had blessed the instructions to Joseph, and the Saviour had become dear to his heart. Never was he so happy as when his mother knelt down to pray with him.
“But how came he to be in such want?” You shall hear. You have been told already that the winter, in which Joseph slept one night in the stable, was a hard winter—a alike of a time of famine. The poor Swiss weaver found it to be such. He could get no work, and could no longer earn bread for his children. Their mother toiled night and day, but to little purpose, and she, at list, fell sick. She had no medicine; and as she became worse daily, she felt that soon she must die. The evening before her death, she called Joseph, who was then twelve years old, to her bedside. Laying upon his head her cold, trembling hand, she blessed him, and, giving him a Bible, said, “Here, my son, I give you your inheritance. I am going to Jesus, and can no longer teach you but this Bible can make you wise to salvation. Read in it diligently, and cleave to Jesus. God bless you, and guide you! Goodbye, my child! I hope to find you again with the Saviour.” She sent also for her husband, and her other children, and took leave of them. The next morning, as the sun arose, she gently breathed her last. Joseph wept the whole day, and could not be comforted. Poor boy! the loss of his mother was worse to him than the want of food; but this also he had endure.
Soon after the death of his mother Joseph’s father was obliged to, send him away, to seek his bread wherever he could obtain it.
Lord, how Thy wonders are displayed
Where’er I turn mine eye:
If I survey the ground I tread,
Or gaze upon the sky!
Creatures (as num’rous as they be)
Are subject to Thy care;
There’s not a place were we can flee,
But God is present there.
He said nothing, but, with tears in his eyes, packed his Bible in his bag, bade farewell, to his father, and to his little brother sad Oster, and took his leave. He did not know the road or whither it would lead him, distance from the place, he thought it better not to enter till next morning, and accordingly called at the farmhouse near the road side, where we have seen him led by the kind maid to his night quarters in the stable.
It was about five in the morning when he awoke, and began to repeat one of the hymns which he had learned from his mother’s lips: —
“Awake my heart awake and sing,
The praise of Him who gives us all,
Food, sheep, and every precious thing:
To God, thy Friend, direct thy call.”
This he repeated aloud to himself. The maid, who was about to milk the cows, had heard him; and, touched by these lines, she entered the stable, with the lantern in her hand, and wished the lad good morning. She asked him several questions about his past life; and, while she was milking the cows, he told her all that had happened to him to that time. Margaret, for that was her name, was affected by his story, and, gave him some of the warm milk to drink, she said “Wait, Joseph; I will speak to the master. He may suffer you to stay with us.” She had great influence with her master, because she was an honest and faithful servant. She pleaded for Joseph, that he might be allowed to Remain and help with the work. The master at first looked sour, and said that in such dear times he could not take every tramp into his house; but Margaret entreated him, and at last prevailed. She then ran to Joseph, and told him that he might stay, and that, if he proved honest and diligent, he would be comfortable. Joseph went to work cheerfully, thanking God from the bottom of his heart. He was tired of wandering about, and glad to be able to earn his bread by the labor of his own hands.
The farmhouse became to Joseph a school of severe trial. The master himself, and the two men servants, were rude and wicked men; having “no fear of God before their eyes.” On the first morning, when the bell was rung for breakfast, the servants sat down with bad, wicked words, to the sound of which the youthful stranger had not been accustomed. But when he closed his eyes, while silently thanking God before he began to eat, the men burst into a loud laugh, and uttered dreadful blasphemies against God. Joseph was afraid, and wept; but Margaret reproved the servant men, and consoled the poor boy. When night came, he found that he had to sleep in the same room with these two men. Never before had he omitted to kneel down for prayer, before lying down to sleep; but this time, for fear of the men, he crept into bed at once without bending his knees in their sight. Their oaths and curses, partly addressed to him, kept him awake with fear, till the men had fallen asleep. Then, rising very quietly, and kneeling upon his bed, Joseph began to pray. As he prayed he felt his fears abate, and his courage increase, until at last, forgetting where he was, or that any one was near but the Lord to whom he cried, his voice became so distinct and loud as to awake one of the servant men. “Who is there?” he exclaimed; and finding that it was by Joseph’s prayers he had been aroused, he became furious, and said he would turn the fellow into the street. The other servant also awoke, and joined in threatening the poor lad, who, breathless almost with fear, hid himself under the bedclothes, and awaited the dawn of day.
When morning came, the men rose earlier than usual, and went out without a word.
Joseph, hearing that the men had got to work, quickly got up, and having prayed, put his bag on his shoulder, resolved to make his escape. On entering the yard, he met with Margaret, who wished him good morning, but noticing his bag, asked him where he, was going. Not a word could he utter, but burst into tears. Margaret repeated her question, and then he begged her to let him go, as he could not continue in such a place. She guessed the cause of this sudden resolution, and said all she could to comfort the lad, for whom she had begun to feel a great regard. At last she succeeded in persuading him to stay.
“Come, Joseph, put down your bag, and help me to prepare a straw layer, and the fodder.”
Joseph readily did as Margaret bade him, and everything was soon in order, so that she could proceed to milk the cows. Having sat down with her pail, the following conversation took place.
Margaret. What have you there so heavy in your bag?
Joseph. It is my Bible, the only inheritance my mother left me. I have always carried it about with me, and when I have been unhappy it has comforted me.
Margaret. Can you then read?
Joseph. Yes. My dear mother taught me first; and then I went to school.
Nothing would now satisfy Margaret, till the lad showed her his Bible, and sat down beside her to read from it by the light of the lantern. He read to her the third of John, which tells us of Nicodemus coming by night to Jesus, who said to him, “Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Margaret, who knew scarcely anything of the Bible, listened with deep attention, but did not say a word; and even after the boy had finished reading, she was silent for some time. When she had, at last, done her work, she told Joseph what to do, and went away.
Nothing particular happened that day, except that in the evening, while the master and his men were at the public house, Margaret called the lad to her room, and made him read the same chapter to her again. When he went that night with the menservants to bed, they certainly made some rude remarks; but, being drowsy, they soon fell asleep, and Joseph prayed without being disturbed.
After a few days, during which Margaret was very silent and pensive, Sunday arrived; a day which, to Joseph, was of the greatest importance. The servants remained longer in bed than on any other day; but Joseph rose as early as he could. As it was yet dark he went to the stable, where he knew he would meet with Margaret. He had not conversed with her specially, since, at her request, he read to her; but now he asked if he might read to her again. She gave consent, and he read the history of Christ’s crucifixion in John 18 and 19. As it took half an hour to go through these long chapters, Margaret had done milking before he finished; and, sitting down on a low stool, she listened in silence, and seemed to lose herself in the subject on which Joseph read. The 30th verse of chap. 19 led to the following conversation.,
Joseph (reading)— “When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, He said, It is finished; and He bowed His head, and gave up the ghost.”
Margaret—But why did God suffer this holy man to die so horrible a death?
Joseph—Do you not know, Margaret, that, if it had been the will of the Lord Jesus, His Father would have sent Him twelve legions of angels to deliver Him? But He freely offered Himself, to make propitiation for our sins, by His precious blood. I know a passage which declares, “Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows. 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” (Isa. 53:4, 54Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. 5But 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 53:4‑5)). What do we not owe, Margaret, to the Saviour who died for us that we may not go to hell?
Jesus, the Lord our righteousness,
Our beauty Thou, our glorious dress;
‘Midst flaming worlds in these arrayed,
With joy shall we lift up our head.
Margaret—Do you believe that I also shall go to heaven?
Margaret—Would the Lord listen to me, if I were to pray to Him?
Joseph—Is not the Lord everywhere with us and about us; He is even now with us; He sees us and hears what we say. And what is more, He looks into our hearts, and knows what we think.
Margaret now stood up. By means of these simple words, a ray of divine light had shone into her soul, and she felt an unspeakable longing after something that she could not herself name. She did not know what was the matter with her. She took up the milk pail and went away. But she could find no rest for her troubled mind. She fell on her knees and said, “Jesus, limit, mercy upon me! Jesus save me also!” She then began to feel so happy at heart, that had not her master called her, she would not have thought of leaving her retreat. But she thought within herself that she would return there as soon and as often as she could be at liberty.
By the master and his two men servants the Sunday was usually spent in a very sad way. They either idled about, played, went to the public house, or followed other pursuits which were still worse. Joseph had thus the opportunity of spending part of the day in the bedroom, reading his Bible. He had no wish for happier employment than this.
The day was now gone, and the evening had set in. The men servants had come home to supper, and were waiting in the yard for the sound of the bell which was to summon them to the table. They sat on a bench before the house, playing with the great dog, which they had loosed from its chain. Joseph also was outside the house, and had timidly seated himself on a stump of wood. Very soon their game was directed against him; an One of them, who had the monster dog between his knees, cried, “Now, Joseph, have you prayed to your Lord today?”
Joseph, remembering how they cursed and swore the first night he slept in the same room with them, was terrified and held his peace. The two men then roared with laughter at the poor silent boy.
“Come, Joseph, give us a prayer!” But Joseph continued to hold his peace, and inwardly cried to God.
“Joseph must be our parson!” said one of his tormentors. “Tell me, Mr. Parson, shall we go to hell?” Another loud laugh accompanied this awful question. But, as the lad remained silent, he that held the dog, resumed, “Now, Joseph, you must tell us whether we are to go to hell. If you do not, I’ll let the dog loose upon you.” He then began jokingly to excite the dog against Joseph, so that it soon began to snarl. An inexpressible terror now seized the poor child; and yet he felt encouraged tremblingly to reply, “How can you go to heaven if you curse so dreadfully? He who curses goes to hell.”
This answer fell like a thunderbolt on the consciences of these bad men; but instead of yielding to the voice of conscience, they gave full scope to their rage.
“Now, Joseph,” said the man who held the dog, “when we go to hell, you will have to go with us; for I will make you learn to curse! Now, repeat after me!”.... and he uttered a most fearful oath, at which both laughed, and called out, “Joseph, repeat this oath!”
A dreadful scene ensued. The poor boy was deadly pale, and he trembled from head to foot; but his soul was comforted and strengthened beyond measure. He felt that he feared to sin against God, more than he dreaded all that man could do to him, and meekly, calmly said, that he could not let such wicked words pass his lips. The men insisted on his uttering them, declaring that they would let the dog loose upon him, and exciting the fierce animal more and more each time. The one who held him between his knees had no intention, perhaps, actually to let him loose; but the dog, not as yet accustomed to look upon Joseph as an inmate of the house, growled, more fiercely, made a sudden spring, and fell furiously upon Joseph. True, they immediately called him off; but it was too late. As the dear little fellow with a loud shriek, tried to keep off infuriated dog, the latter bit his hand; so deeply that the blood instantly began to stream from the wound. A few moments after he fell into a swoon.
A sudden terror now fell on the two wicked men who had so cruelly persecuted Joseph. They were in no haste to run to his assistance; but at last one of them went, and lifting him up, shook him, as if to awoken him. But his swoon continued; and, for the first time, the man perceived his bleeding hand. The master, too, had come, attracted by the shrill scream of the lad. Asking what was the matter, he got no reply, except that the dog had rushed upon Joseph, and bitten him a little, causing him to faint away. The master swore, kicked the dog a few times, and, calling for Margaret, ordered her to wash the boy’s hand, and bind it up, and to rub his temple with spirits.
Faithful Margaret did all in her power for Joseph’s recovery. She laid him on her own bed, washed the wound with vinegar and water, poured some oil upon it, and dressed it with as linen rag.
He recovered from his fainting fit; but, was so weak that he could scarcely speak. Now and then he looked round, as if to see whether the men servants were there; but when he saw Margaret only, he became calm, and looked very gratefully upon her.
To be the better able to nurse her patient, this kind woman made him up a good bed in her own sleeping room. He did not sleep the first night; still he was quiet, and only groaned sometimes because of the pain in his hand. In the morning it was very much swollen; but as the pain had abated, he got up. But he trembled greatly, and looked so pale and ill that no one could see him without pitying him. The master, rough as he was, told Margaret to take good care of the lad. But the men servants, whenever they came into the room, did not stay long, but got away as quickly as they could. Their consciences were ill at ease.
A few days passed, the wound paining the little sufferer more at one time than another; he lost his appetite, and gradually wasted away. One morning as Margaret dressed his hand she noticed some spots on it, quite black. She was afraid when she saw these; and well she might be, for soon the inflammation spread over the whole hand, and the wound became a great deal worse. Joseph also became very weak. Margaret was now greatly alarmed; and; sitting down one evening on his bed, she began to express what she felt, when the following conversation took place.
Margaret—How are you, Joseph?
Joseph—I think I shall soon be better.
These words were spoken in a tone which pierced Margaret’s heart; for she already felt persuaded that he was fast hastening towards his end.
Margaret—What do you mean?
Joseph—I believe that I shall soon die, when I shall see my precious Saviour, and my dear departed mother.
Margaret—Are you not afraid of death, then?
Joseph—I could not say that I have no wish for it to be over; but it soon will be! and then I shalt go to my Saviour, where there are jays for evermore. Dear Margaret, will you be so kind as to read me a few verses from the Bible?
His Bible was under the pillow of the dying child. She took it out, and when he had shown her the place, she read to him the following passage, “And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea. And I John saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things have passed away” (Rev. 21:1-41And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea. 2And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. 4And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. (Revelation 21:1‑4)).
“How glorious is this,” said Joseph, when she had finished reading: “with what joy I look forward to that city of God! My mother is there, and all those who are saved! My Saviour will soon take me there!”
The tears came into Margaret’s eyes; she began to be so happy by that bed of death, as to feel it would be better for her also to die, and enter heaven with Joseph. A short silence ensued. It was broken by Joseph exclaiming, “Margaret, I wish to beg a favor of you.” The good nurse was ready and willing for anything. “I wish,” continued Joseph, “that you would tell Anthony (the man who had let loose the dog) and the other servant, that I have forgiven them with all my heart; and that I pray fervently to God, that He may not impute to them their sin of last Sunday; and that He may save them.”
Till now, Margaret knew nothing but that the dog had of his own accord attacked the poor boy. She asked, therefore, in great surprise, what Anthony had done. Joseph, also surprised, inquired if she did not know what had happened. When she answered, “No,” he was unwilling to say anything more on the subject. But Margaret could not be at rest till he had told her all. She wanted then to run at once to her master, and inform him of the whole. But Joseph besought her to say nothing. He brought before her the example of Christ, and so entreated her, that at last she promised to keep the matter secret.
This conversation had so exhausted the boy, that he fell into a kind of swoon, which being mistaken by Margaret for a comfortable doze, she also lay down to rest.
At three next morning, she was roused by a heavy groaning. Having got a light, she found the poor lad insensible, and in violent convulsions: he rolled about on his bed, and groaned in such a manner as to pierce her heart. Not knowing what she did, she threw her arms around him, as if to soothe thus his terrible pains. After about an hour she took advantage of a few calmer momenta to wake her master; for she knew that he pitied Joseph, and wished him well. When he arrived, Joseph was in an awful state. The spasms sometimes drew his body together, as though it would break; at other, times they threw him up in the bed. The master looked on with horror, and assisted at times in holding him, lest he should be bruised. In the meantime, Margaret ran to call the men servants, telling them that the master wanted them to rise instantly and come to him. When they came, not knowing what had happened, Margaret called them in, with the alarming words, “Now, Anthony, you will surely like to be present at Joseph’s death!” With this, she forced him and his comrade into the chamber. They stood there, pale and terrified at the sight which was before them.
By degrees, the fits became weaker and shorter, and Joseph lay like one dead. “He is gone!” said the master; and, taking the candle, he held it to Joseph’s face. The dying sufferer once more opened his eyes, and strained himself to look about, as if seeking for something., His looks fell on Margaret, and a faint glimmer seemed to light up his countenance. “Thanks, thanks,” said he, in a low voice, casting a kind glance at his faithful friend. Deeply affected, she burst into tears, and sobbed aloud. “Peace—Jesus—heaven!” he whispered, and a gentle smile hovered about his pale lips.
His eye now rested upon Anthony.
This seemed to inspire him with fresh and wonderful energy. By a last effort he raised himself up, and stretched out to him his trembling hand. In a broken voice, he said, “I have— forgiven—you— from— my—heart! Oh—Jesus—will—also—forgive—you! Pray—pray—to Jesus—and curse—no more!” His strength was spent. He sunk back, and in a few moments his spirit had fled from its clay tabernacle to its heavenly home.
It was half-past six in the morning. Margaret sobbed loudly, and sat on the chair at the bedside. The master, silent and affected, had left the room to conceal his emotions. But the servants went out pale and trembling, without uttering a single word. A few days after, Anthony gave his master notice and went away, no one knew whither. No curse was ever after heard from the other servant.
Margaret never lost, through her afterlife, the impressions she had received from Joseph; and the master also, from that time, led a different life. Joseph’s memory continued to be a blessing in the farm. May the grace of God, by the means of this history, induce you, dear reader, to believe in the Lord Jesus; then, like this happy little boy, you will have all your sins forgiven, and if you die you will dwell forever with Him in glory.