THE little boy about whom I am going to speak to you, was eleven years of age, but was very small. His father died when he was about eight years old, and since then he had been brought up by a bad, drunken stepmother. She was very unkind to little Victor, scarcely giving him any food to eat; and in winter he had to go with his bare feet.
The way Victor lived was this: He went out every morning with a bag over his shoulder, and searched about for scraps of any kind—bread, cloth, nails, old iron, or anything, in short, he could lay his hand upon honestly, for Victor was an honest boy. At night, on his return from his day’s labors, he would carefully separate the things which he had gathered, and sell them for what he could get. The little he thus made, paid the rent of the wretched hovel in which he dwelt.
Victor had learned to read while his father was alive, and had never forgotten the lessons he received then. He would carefully gather up every scrap of printed paper he could find, and thus kept up, as best he could, his reading.
One day he found, amongst the rubbish he had collected, a leaf of a hymn book. It was crushed, dirty and torn, but nevertheless poor little Victor managed to make it out. It was a few lines of poetry, and ran thus:—
“Christ is merciful and mild,
He was once a little child;
He, whom heavenly hosts adore,
Lived on earth, despised and poor.
Then He laid His glory by,
When He came for us to die;
How I wonder when I see
His unbounded love for me.”
“Ah,” said Victor, “I know; I heard about Christ at the Mission School last Sunday. I wonder if He got poor on purpose? That’s very strange! I wish I could get rich. ‘Came for us to die!’ Can that be true? Who did He die for? For the folks that made this little book, perhaps, but not for me. ‘He was once a little child!’ I wonder if He was as big as I am, and had enough to eat?”
Victor read the sweet little verse of the hymn over and over again. Then he carefully laid it aside, saying; “I’ll learn that verse to say, as the boys did last Sunday; and I’ll ask the teacher more about Christ, and who did He die for; and if He is alive anywhere now, so that I can go and see Him.”
Yes, Victor, Jesus is alive, and you may go and see Him He welcomes such as you. Although in glory, His heart and love are unchanged. His love, oh, His love, it is too deep to fathom! too vast to scan! He died on Calvary’s cross for sinners. He bled, agonized and died; but now He is risen from the dead, and Victor’s wish to know “if He is alive anywhere now, so that I can go and see Him,” can easily be answered. He is “alive,” and any of my young friends “may go and see Him.”
The next time that the poor boy went to the Mission School, he heard all about Jesus and His love. He was told that Jesus was “alive” in glory, and that he might “go and see Him.” He was told that Jesus was wanting him, and that there was One in heaven who loved him, if no one else did. The poor desolate boy found a Saviour and a Friend in the Lord Jesus Christ, all through his life.
My dear young readers, you have heard a little of Victor Doyle, and how that poor boy got to know and love the Saviour; first, Victor knew that Jesus loved and died for him; second, he then gave his love and heart to Jesus.
“We love Him because He first loved us.”
Have you believed on Jesus?
—Selected.
ML 05/27/1900