(For the Little Ones.)
BESIDE the river Ouse, near the village of H —, stands a water-mill, adjoining which is a large meadow, and as a railway runs through it, it is a very attractive spot to most of the children in the locality, especially through the summer season.
Not many years ago a little girl named Mary was staying at the adjoining village of H— A—, on a visit. One fine afternoon two of her cousins, the elder of whom was about her own age, while her brother was some three or four years younger, proposed a walk to see the trains, and the three set out accordingly. After they had spent some time in the meadow they proceeded to the river side, and as soon as Mary’s elder cousin espied a boat chained to a tree, she jumped into it, and invited her to follow. At first she refused, for, unlike her relative, she was not accustomed to such things; but upon being urged she gave a spring, when from some cause or other the vessel moved from the river’s brink, and in an instant, she was in the water, and clinging to the boat’s side with agonized grasp. Her screams for help were lost in the noise caused by the large wheel of the mill, and the dashing of the foaming waters; her cousin endeavored with all her might to get her into the vessel, and finding her efforts fruitless became almost frantic with terror; the little boy had not sufficient presence of mind to run to the mill for assistance, and had not a gentleman, who providentially was passing at the time, seized the boat with his walking-stick, drawn it to the bank, and lifted her out of the river, she must inevitably have perished. After “the rescued child.” had been admonished by her kind deliverer, for whom she still retains the deepest affection, she was hurried to the home of her cousins, where receiving every possible attention, she soon recovered from the shock of the accident which had befallen her.
And now, dear young readers, would you learn a lesson from the above, imagine poor Mary’s jeopardy, her inability to deliver herself from it, and the certain death which had been hers had not timely help arrived; and then remember that as far as it is possible to compare the things of time with those of eternity, you have a picture of your own condition to the very life. For should you grow up to become men and women without Christ, guilty sinners, surrounded by the dismal and appalling waters of death and judgment, you will, unless delivered therefrom, sink into “the blackness of darkness forever,” into the waves of “everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels,” where there is “wailing and gnashing of teeth.” Oh terrible portion, the portion of all who die in their sins, and who, in spite of the warnings of love and the pleadings of mercy, deliberately and madly hasten thereto.
But, blessed be God, there is a way of escape, and it is through Jesus, and Jesus ALONE. Be not deceived as to this. Your cries and efforts, hover great, your sense of sin and danger, however deep, can no more save nor help to save you, than poor Mary’s shrieks and struggles could either get or help to get her out of the water. No, she owed her deliverance to another, and in no wise to HERSELF. And if pity led her deliverer to the place where she was, infinite love brought the Saviour into this sinful and ruined world to seek and save those who were “without strength” to save themselves. And because there was no way whereby this could be affected but by his sin-atoning death, he was “lifted up from the earth,” “that whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have eternal life.” And now, Christ crucified for our sins, and raised “again the third day according to the Scriptures,” is the beginning, the center, and the end of the gospel message; and “it is the power of God unto salvation to every-one that believeth.” O dear readers,
“Deeply sunk in sin’s abyss,”
listen to the words of him who in boundless love was sent to rescue sinners from their perilous state. He is “mighty to save,” and you have nothing to do but, like Mary, to relinquish the hold of that to which you are vainly clinging, and look to him; you will then realize “the everlasting arms” of love and mercy lifting you out of your sad condition, fear and terror will cease, and believing “the testimony of God,” you will pass “from death unto life.”
And has not the story of “The Rescued Child,” a voice for those beloved readers who have been drawn to the Saviour by the sweet constraining power of his love? Assuredly it has, and I sincerely hope that, like her of whom I have written, they will cultivate the deepest affection for their great and gracious Deliverer, and by hiding his word in their hearts, be kept from falling into any form of that from which they have been so mercifully and powerfully delivered.