LITTLE Willie was scarcely five years old when it pleased God to take his mother to heaven, to be with the dear Saviour, whom she had loved on earth. Willie saw how sad his father looked when he talked of the dear one who had gone from them, and who would never come back to them again; but he was too young to understand how great their loss was.
As Mr. —. could not be much at home with his motherless child, he accepted an invitation for him to spend a few months with his aunt Maria.
On the first Sunday of his visit, he accompanied his aunt to chapel in the morning, and behaved very quietly during the service. In the afternoon his aunt Maria gave him a picture book, thinking it would amuse him while she read. Presently the little fellow laid down the book, and going to his aunt, and looking up into her face, he said, “Auntie, will you read to me, please? Mamma always used to read to me on Sunday afternoon.”
“Yes, dear, certainly I will,” was the reply. “If you give me that book, I will read one of those pretty stories for you.”
“No, not that, auntie; please read to me out of the Bible.”
In some surprise aunt Maria said, “Out of the Bible, Willie! Will you like that best?”
“Yes, please, auntie, I would like the Psalm which mamma used to read to me.” “Which was it, do you know, Willie?” “It was about a shepherd. I can say a little of it.”
“I shall so much like to hear you say it. Will you tell me what you know?”
Willie repeated the words, “The Lord is my Shepherd,” he could get no farther than those first five words, but by these his aunt knew directly which Psalm her little nephew meant. But in order to try if he really knew the right one, she read some other verses in which the word shepherd occurs. At length, finding that he was not satisfied, she turned to the twenty-third Psalm and read, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.” On hearing these words, Willie clapped his little hands, and with a very bright face, he exclaimed, “That’s it, auntie, that’s it; now will you read it all to me?”
“Yes, darling, I will.”
As she replied, aunt Maria kissed the child’s sweet upturned face, and taking him on her knee, she read and talked to him about that beautiful Psalm which King David wrote, so many, many years ago.
Perhaps he wrote it when he was himself a shepherd, taking care of his father’s sheep in the wilderness. This occupation made him well acquainted with the habits of sheep. He knew how likely they were to stray from the fold; even the little lambs would sometimes wander away to the bleak barren mountains, where they could find no nice food, no cooling streams of water, but where they would be exposed to great danger, and perhaps to death. David knew too how sorry a kind shepherd would feel for the poor silly creature; how anxiously he would search for it. And when he found it wounded and bleeding, how tenderly he would carry it back to the fold, and care for it so lovingly, till it was quite healed; and ever afterwards take special care of it. In like manner David knew that God cared for him, so that he could truly say, “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
We hope that many of our young readers know this beautiful Psalm, and love it as little Willie did. It will be the greatest happiness to you, if you are able to say, “The LORD is MY Shepherd.”
ML 11/18/1917