OUR little Edith is quite quiet for a moment, just look at her now, I do believe she is thinking; and what a pretty picture — but it would never do to tell her so, you know; two years old, true-blue lo es, and a merry, laughing face, beaming with health and happiness. A gaily painted all, and a ball that is, not painted, are waiting-se by for the dimpled fingers to set them rolling and bouncing, a wonderfully-shaped horse is standing ready harnessed to a brilliantly decorated cart, also waiting the commands of its tiny proprietor; an India-jabber doll is lying nearly smothered, a box of bricks having been mercilessly emptied over it; and yet the queen of all these treasures is still, actually still; evidently the baby-mind is at work upon something, pausing to think. Ah! that is a good thing to do, and even our little miss, in the midst of much that goes to make up a very happy child-world, has ceased from her playing for a minute or two. Now, right away up, from little children to big children, and from big children to grown-up people, although, of course, I am talking especially to you little ones now, I wish to ask you all, in the midst of playing, between the hours of working, in the early morning, and as evening closes in, to get into the habit of stopping for a minute to think. Plenty of downright fun, eye fairly dancing with delight, young lives buoyant and glad, all that is right and healthy both for mind and body; yes! play away; youngsters, ring out clear and happy notes from the realms of childhood, till, it may be, older folks shall catch the spirit of it, and finish off the music with a good laughing bass of full-grown voices; and at school, work away with a hearty will, learn all you can and hold it fast, but, in the midst of it all, I say again; and say earnestly, stop for a while, now and then, and think. But hark! I hear a very musical chorus from a very large band of bright-eyed young questioners, asking what all the thinking is to be about, and a very good question too, for it meets at once the simple purpose of these few lines, my great desire being that each young heart thus appealed to should be occupied, and occupied not only at stated times and seasons, but continually, with One who walked this very earth of ours, a sorrowful and wearied man, born a homeless babe in a manger, dying a shameful death upon the cross; One who knew no sin, and yet in His own person bore all that sin deserved; One who made all things, and yet with words and looks of wondrous tenderness and love, suited even to the children, called the little ones around Him, and so blessed them; Jesus, Jesus the Saviour, what a beautiful name I and Jesus longs for His name to be precious to the children. His own life’s blood was shed, He gave himself, He rose again triumphant over death, and now from His home in the glory above He is looking for your whole heart’s love, your perfect trust, and for all your thoughts to be about Himself.
W. W.