WE have received the following sweet story from our friends of the Spezia Mission. Our readers generally will be rejoiced to read it; and those who have contributed to the mission will be thankful to be fellow-helpers in the good work.
A poor man was dying in a hospital in Italy. His life had been a hard battle, and with little of joy or comfort in it. The terrible influences of superstition had been round about him all his life, and now that his days of struggle and darkness were drawing to a close Roman Catholicism had little to offer of real rest and peace to his sin-burdened heart. But God’s care was over the dying man, and He led the footsteps of Mr. Clarke, of the Spezia Mission, to that bedside; and as he spoke of the wonderful love which fills the Saviour’s heart, and showed to that poor wondering soul the great salvation which, “without money and without price,” might be his, the Spirit enabled the sufferer to grasp the hand of the Crucified One, and the burden of sin was left at the cross.
A new light shone now in the tired eyes, but as the days passed his visitor noticed that the man’s mind was evidently not at rest. As the end drew near the unrest deepened to a most acute anxiety. Mr. Clarke set himself patiently and lovingly to find out what was causing this mental trouble, and at last the sick man told him that the one concern which prevented his heart resting in peace was the fate of his child Pasqualina. He knew how awful would be her probable future if she were left a friendless girl in that dark, sinful land; he knew the sad fate which threatened her if he were taken from her: and it was little wonder if he almost wished that he could see her called away before him rather than leave her behind.
One day his visitor, who had gained his confidence and love, stooped over the bed and whispered in his ear, “Do not let your heart be filled with sorrow about your beloved daughter. I will take care of her, and will seek to provide for her.” A great gladness came to the dying father, and he soon after passed away in perfect peace, and in the bright hope that one day Pasqualina would follow him in the path which he had so lately learned to tread.
Pasqualina was but five years old when her father died. Mr. Clarke and his good sister, who has won so much of the love of the children of Italy to herself, took the little child into their own home and cared for her. Later, when God had made the way and His people had supplied the means, the orphanage which is now so important a part of the Spezia Mission was opened, and among the first of the dear children who were placed in that sunny home was Pasqualina.
The few first years of her life had been spent in the midst of the hardest poverty, of which there is so much in Italy; and the hardships and cruel want of those early days had sown in her the seeds which produced a very delicate constitution. Still the love and care which were expended upon her seemed to win her back to health and happiness, and in her own pretty way, as she grew up, she evinced a strong affection for her benefactors, and a deep gratitude for what they had done for her.
As the years passed the holy and helpful influences of the home and the patient teaching of the Lord Jesus sank deep into her soul—how deep we did not know till afterwards. One day, early in 1895, her health gave us some anxiety, and it was not long before the doctor who attends the children when they need medical care saddened our hearts with the news that our young charge was seriously ill. Everything that love could suggest was done for her, but with little success.
Most retiring and gentle by nature, it needed much loving wisdom to tell her the nature of the illness God had sent to her. She was not one who could talk glibly about spiritual things; but one day Mr. Clarke, after much prayer, said to her, “Pasqualina, dear, I want to ask you a very important question. Do not answer hastily, but take time for quiet thought. Which would you choose if you might have your choice― to lie in suffering and weakness upon your bed for years, with Christ, the Hope of Glory, in your heart, or to have health and strength again, with all the comforts and pleasures earth can give, but to lose Jesus Christ?”
The question startled her. She was a singularly truthful child, and a great conflict filled her heart, for life was very dear and health and vigor full of charm. When left alone she pondered and prayed over the talk they had just had for some time. Later, Mr. Clarke prayed with her, and they talked of the question again. At length she looked up brightly into his face and said, “I have thought of all, and I could not part with Jesus. I would rather lie here in pain and weakness for years with Him than be raised up to health and strength, with all the comforts and pleasures the world can give, without Him.” After this a deep peace filled the child’s soul.
One evening Signora Cartei, the matron of the orphanage, heard Pasqualina say, “What is it you wish? Here I am.” The matron said, “To whom are you speaking?” “To Jesus,” the child replied. “He has called me by name”; and her face lit up with a glory as if at that evening hour it was bathed with the light of the sun’s brightness, which was seen by all in the room. The matron, all the orphans, and several others, observed it for about a quarter of an hour.
In the presence of the darkness and misery which Romanism and infidelity have spread throughout Italy, and the awful dread of death which we find at the deathbeds of these poor people before they know the truth, it is very sweet to us who loved her to recall this dear child’s closing hours and their bright sunshine. “Jesus calls me by name,” she said one day, her face radiant with joy; “and I could not but answer Him, ‘Here I am, Lord, and I am coming home.’ I have Jesus in my heart; He has pardoned all my sins, and I die willingly, and go to rejoin dear Ida and see Jesus face to face. I shall suffer no more fever or pain soon. Give my love to dear Miss Clarke, for I am going to be with Jesus Himself, and I shalt, give her love and that of the dear orphans to Ida, and one day we shall all meet in heaven.”
One sang to her―
“I would be like an angel,
And with the angels stand.”
“I cannot sing it with you,” she said; “I am too weak. But my heart sings it. I shall soon be there, and shall have that crown and that golden harp. Dear Ida and I will sing together and praise the Saviour day and night.”
She had a great longing to see Mr. Clarke and his sister before she died. When they came she touchingly told out her heart’s gratitude to them and to the friends who support the orphanage. “And now,” she said, “I desire nothing more.”
She asked that the children would sing to her, and in the next room they sang softly―the young child with her parting breath joining in―
“Death hath been conquered by victory,
Sorrow and anguish can no more be;
Safe to His bosom He beareth home
The soul He redeemed whose end has come.
Love, love, joy and love,
I hear the strains which they sing above;
Grant, O my Father, Thy child may rest
Glad and at peace on Thy loving breast.”
Before they had finished she stretched out her arms, and, looking upwards with a glad smile, cried in a voice singularly clear and loud, “Lord, I come to Thee. Receive my spirit.”
But a little longer her Lord let her tarry. There were two friends present who had not yet yielded to God, and even in this supreme hour she could not depart till she had pleaded with them. She called them, and spoke first to one and then to the other. “Oh, Signor ―! I entreat you to give your whole heart to Jesus, and always to live the life of a good Christian.” “Dear C―, love Jesus and promise me to remain firm in the faith. Goodbye till we meet in heaven.”
She wished to speak to all the girls, but was too weak. A few of the elder ones were allowed to come to her side, and to them she said so earnestly, “Give your hearts to Jesus. Love Him, and meet me in heaven.” Then she folded her arms and quietly fell asleep upon His bosom who shall one day tenderly bend over His little one and say, “Talitha cumi.”
Other children we have in the orphanage who are well and strong, but they will never forget the joy and gladness dear Pasqualina found in her Lord. And can we wish for our readers, old or young, a better blessing than to have, in life now, and in the hour of death when it comes, the same vivid realization of the near presence of the blessed Lord Jesus that this little Italian orphan child had?
One more word and we have done. Our hearts are sad when we think of the other children of Italy whom we know, growing up amid the darkness and wickedness of that land, whom we long to save. How glad we should be if God should lay it upon the hearts of some who read this to help us to care for these thousands of poor Italian children, and especially for those whose ears will never more in this world hear the sound of father’s or mother’s voice.