AS I cast a hasty glance at the boys in my class at the ragged school, the happy face and bright eyes of a little fellow of about eight years of age, fixed my attention. His auburn hair was matted and dirty―his cheeks were sadly in want of a good washing―but there was a charm about the little fellow for all that.
As I was a new teacher, it was some minutes before I could gain the attention of the class, the boys having made up their minds to “try what stuff I was made of.” Each would relate his adventures of the past week. One had slept in a cart; another under some arch. “No home and no friends” was common to almost all of them. One of the urchins laid hold of my feet, and began to make believe cleaning my boots, laughing; he never charged “for teachers’ boots.” But the fair-haired little boy took hold of the rogue’s shoulders, and gravely said, “Go back to your place. You have had enough nonsense tonight. I want to hear what teacher has to tell us.” Thereupon they all cried out, “Now then, teacher, we are quite ready for you.”
At the close I called my fair-haired little friend aside.
“They always call me Willie, sir,” said he. “My mother and father are both poor. You will come again, teacher, won’t you?”
“Wells but you must promise me that you will come to the class with clean face and hands, and with your hair nicely combed.”
“Yes, teacher, I will ask mother to make one tidy, and I will come clean,” said Willie, and away he skipped down the court.
On the following Sunday evening Willie was first in his place, and, with great pleasure, he said, “I am here, teacher; and, see, I have kept my promise―look at me.”
Indeed, I hardly knew him, with his pretty ringlets, clean face and hands, and white pinafore. Many happy evenings have I spent with that class, and though, at times, the boys would have “a lark,” yet they gladly listened to the sweet story of Jesus’ life and death, and what He did for them. Some of these wild little creatures promised to read their Bibles at least once a day, others said they would pray, but I am grieved to tell that none seemed willing to give up their hearts entirely to Jesus, because, as they said, “We shall then have to give up our companions; and if we do this, we shall not be able to get our living.” They would say, “If we could keep our companions and love Jesus too, we would do so.”
After a few Sundays, Willie wished to be elevated to my Sunday-school class. An effort was made, decent clothes were obtained, and, to his great delight, he was duly registered a Sunday-school scholar.
He became a favorite with the other boys, and earned the title, “Serious Willie,” because he paid attention to the lessons and learned the Scripture texts.
Summer came, and with it the school treat to Richmond. It was a delightful morning, and Willie was the first of the class at my house. He had a flower in his buttonhole and two-pence to spend, and was as happy as a bird. It was the little London boy’s first Sunday-school treat, and the spreading trees of the old park, with the green grass spangled with flowers, was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. But the day did not end so pleasantly as it began; it rained all the way home, the children got quite wet, and Willie took a severe chill.
The next Sunday, Willie and another scholar went home with me to tea. “Were not the disciples very unkind,” he said, “to try and send little children away from Jesus? But how good it was of Him to say, ‘Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven!’ Do you think, teacher, that Jesus would still bless a little boy like me, if I were to try and love Him and pray to Him every day? For I should like to be in heaven, with so many little children, and to be always singing.”
“Teacher,” he continued, solemnly, “you tell me I must die someday, and leave all whom I love behind; and as that is true, I would rather die and go to heaven while I am a little boy. Jesus would put His arms around me and bless me, like those little ones you have just been reading about―it will be nice to be a little child in heaven.”
The following week passed without my seeing Willie, and his place was vacant at the Sunday school. I lost no time in going to his home, where, to my sorrow, I found my fair-haired little friend ill in bed. It
was as I feared; from his mother having to go out during the day to work, the child’s cold had been neglected, and he was dangerously ill. But we had a happy talk together. Willie was cheerful and bright; he did not mind being ill, he said, “for it is so nice to read and think about Jesus.”
A day or two after I found him so very low, that I feared he could not recover. “Willie, dear,” said I, “are you afraid to die?” “No, teacher!” “Why not, Willie?” “Because God has forgiven all my sins, for Jesus’ sake, who died to wash them away, and I know Jesus will take me to heaven, because He said when He blessed little children, ‘For of such is the kingdom of heaven!’”
He asked me before leaving to pray with him. “What shall I pray for, Willie?” I asked.
“That I may have patience, and not be cross to my mother and father and friends while I am ill, and ask Jesus to take me to heaven.” Then he put his head upon the pillow, and took hold of my hand, holding it quite tight until I left him, as he said, “do love Jesus, and how I wish I had loved Him longer than I have.”
I must tell you that through the kindness of a lady visitor, his little room was clean and tidy. Clean clothes had been placed upon the bed, and a few flowers had been put in an old-fashioned jug upon the table at his side.
One evening when I called he hardly knew me, but, though his beautiful curls were cut off, Willie still looked himself, with his sweet smile playing round his lips. The dear boy was calling for Jesus to take him to heaven.
Then, not because I doubted his faith, but rather to hear his confession to Christ, I asked, “Are you quite sure Jesus has forgiven all your sins, Willie?”
He fervently replied, “Oh, yes, teacher; if not, I could not be so happy ; but sometimes I cry, when I think how little I have loved Him all these years, and how little I have read His word, and how unkind I have been to Him.”
When I was leaving him, he said, “Goodbye, dear teacher; come and see me again, But if I should not be alive, you will meet me in happy heaven above. I thank you for all your kindness and attention to me during my illness, but I thank you most for leading me to Jesus. Goodbye, dear teacher. God bless you.” And then he laid his head upon his pillow, and wept. With great difficulty we quieted his affectionate and tender spirit, and then he fell into a gentle sleep.
To the lady who brought him the flowers and made his poor room so nice and clean, Willie said, “I do love Jesus. Oh, tell me more about Him; it is He alone who can make me happy here and in heaven above.”
About two hours before the dear boy’s death, his favorite text of Jesus blessing the children seemed to fill his heart, for he begged the Lord to take him in His arms to heaven. Just before the Lord received him to Himself, Willie whispered to his parents, “Oh, dear father and mother, I want you to come to heaven with me, for Jesus loves you as well as me”
They replied to the little preacher, “We cannot come now, Willie, but we will come by and by.”
He said again, “Mother, won’t you love Jesus? He is so kind, and He will make you so happy.” His parents answered, “Yes, Willie, we will both love Jesus;” to which the child replied, “Thank you, mother and father; then I shall see you there.” And whispering, “Oh, how happy I shall be, for my Saviour I shall see,” he quietly turned his head round upon his pillow, and fell asleep.