AS I was walking to a gospel meeting, in a dense fog one winter’s evening, I was not sorry to see a light coming towards me in the thickest part of the woods through which my path lay. As it drew nearer. I found it was from a lantern, carried by a little boy of eight years of age, whom I knew very well, and he was on his way to a children’s meeting.
“It’s pleasant to meet a light this dark evening” I remarked! “is it your own, John?”
“No, sir,” answered he: “it’s my father’s.” And he hurried on, afraid of being late for the meeting.
“That’s a brave little fellow to come so far alone this dark night!” thought I.
But then, you see, his lantern gave such a bright light that it really was not darkness for him, though it was for me.
I walked on for about ten minutes, and, as I neared the village to which I was going, I met several more little lads; also on their way to the children’s meeting, but it was too dark for me to make out clearly who they were. However, as I passed them, where the light from a distant gas lamp fell across the figure of the boy who walked first (whom we will call Tom), I could see he was carrying a lantern, much the same as that which guided me through the woods, but this one had no light in it.
“Well,” I thought to myself, “that boy’s lantern is not a bit of good, either to himself or to his companions, and they have to go through the dark woods; too.” They were late already, I knew, and, having no light, they could not hurry along when once they were beyond the reach of the village gas, as John had done.
What do you think made all the difference between these two lanterns, which looked alike? Why, the difference was this—John’s lamp had oil in it, which burned brightly, and Tom’s had none, only thing that could make it of use was wanting, and he might just as well have left it at home, and saved himself the trouble of carrying it, to say nothing of the risk he ran of breaking the glass against the trees while groping his way through them.
As I walked on, those two boys with their lanterns set me thinking of a parable, that the Lord Jesus told His followers when He was down here. I expect every little Sunday school scholar guesses at once which one I mean: the parable of the ten virgins (Matth. 25:1-13.) John, with his bright light, reminded me of the five wise virgins, who had “oil in their vessels with their lamps,” and Tom of the other five, who, though they took their lamps, “took no oil with them.” I am sure you all think Tom was a very silly little boy, and so he was but I expect he was not so silly as he looked, for no doubt he had lit his lantern before he left home, and did not find out that the wick only was burning, until it was too late to get the oil. When Jesus calls these last virgins “foolish,” and when He calls any foolish we know they must be so indeed.
Perhaps some of you children do not know what is meant by the lamp in the parable, so I had better explain that it is the profession of Christianity, which every little boy or girl makes, more or less, who kneels in prayer to God, and who is under Christian teaching. The oil means the Spirit of God, which He gives to everyone who is washed in the precious blood of Jesus.
We can picture the joy and gladness of those wise virgins as the Bridegroom (the Lord Jesus Christ) welcomes them to His marriage feast, and takes them in with Him, for they are “ready.” Are you ready, dear child? Just think of those foolish virgins who, of course, came in long behind the wise, who had pressed forward quickly in the light of their lamps. You know these last had wasted their time in trying to buy for themselves, the oil that was not to be bought, and the end could not get any, so they came stumbling along through the darkness, doubt getting many a bruise, and many fall. One wonders why they ever went forth to meet the Bridegroom; for what was the good of their pretending to go as light-bearers, to welcome Him at His coming, with lamps that were not burning at all? When they reached the gate, ever so late, what did they find? “The door was shut” —shut against all the dark lanterns which their bearers vainly held up, crying out “Lord, Lord, open to us.”
Now, dear children, I beg of you to take this sad account to heart. The Lord Jesus is coming very soon—it may be today. How terrible it would be if any little boy or girl, who reads this, were to find heaven’s gate closed in his or face, and were to hear those dreadful words, “Verily, I say unto you, I know you not!”
“THEY THAT WERE READY WENT IN WITH HIM TO THE MARRIAGE: AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT.” MATTH. 25:10.
ML-10/17/1920