[Illustration: She had not talked long until nearly every child in the
room was in tears.]
Several years ago, when residing at G----, we became acquainted with
Sister W---- who was especially fond of children. Her own were grown,
and desiring to make a home for some homeless child, she went to the
county farm, where there were several, in search of one. Among the
children there she found a beautiful, little, bright-eyed girl, about
nine years old, named Ida. Her heart went out to her at once and she
expressed to the lady in charge her desire to take Ida, and her willingness
to care for her as she would if she were her own child.
But the matron said "Oh, you have no idea what a terrible child she is!
We can do nothing with her, she is stubborn and has an awful temper and
it is impossible to control her. We are intending to send her to the
Girl's Reform School."
Sister W---- who was an earnest Christian, was surprised but not
discouraged. She could not bear the thought of such a little child being
sent to such a place and so she said to the matron: "Well, I'd like to
take her with me and see if I cannot help her to be good."
"Well," said the matron, "you can try her if you want to, but you will
be glad to bring her back again."
Acting upon this permission, Sister W---- talked with Ida and easily
gained her consent to go with her. Not many days had passed before she
found that there was considerable reason for what the matron had said.
Ida was hard to control and at times became terribly angry without cause;
but Sister W---- prayed for her and dealt patiently and tenderly with
her and told her how Jesus loved her, and would help her to be good if
she would only give him her heart. Her prayers and loving labor were not
in vain and it was not very long until little Ida was converted. The
change was so great that all who were with her could plainly see that
Jesus had indeed given her a new heart.
Soon after this we had charge of a children's meeting held in a mission
hall in G----. Among the children gathered there were many of the worst
boys in town. Little Ida was present. We knew how much Jesus had done
for her and felt led of the Spirit to ask her to lead the meeting. She
looked up at us much surprised but her little heart was full of the love
of God and she consented to do the best she could. Words cannot describe
what followed. In tears, Ida told, in her own touching way, how Jesus
had saved her--just what a naughty girl she had been before she was
converted but how Jesus had "taken the angry all away" and given her a
new heart so that she loved everybody and loved to do what was right.
Then she pled with them to give their hearts to God, and told them how
Jesus died on the cross for them, and how He loved them and wanted to
save them.
She had not talked long until nearly every child in the room was in
tears, and how shall we describe that touching scene? We had an altar
service. Ida knelt with those who were seeking and prayed for them and
told them how to find Jesus; and right there many were converted and
gave bright, clear testimonies that their sins were forgiven and Jesus
had given them new hearts. Thus did God that day honor a little girl's
testimony and exhortation and fulfill His own work, "A little child shall
lead them."
Very often do we call to mind that scene, and we find it one of the
sweetest of the memories of years of evangelistic work.
--Editor.
"THEY ARE NOT STRANGERS, MAMA"
Not long ago I stood by the death-bed of a little girl. From her birth
she had been afraid of death. Every fiber of her body and soul recoiled
from the thought of it, "Don't let me die," she said; "don't let me die.
Hold me fast Oh, I can't go!"
"Jennie" I said, "You have two little brothers in the other world, and
there are thousands of tenderhearted people over there, who will love
you and take care of you."
But she cried out again despairingly: "Don't let me go; they are strangers
over there." She was a little country girl, strong limbed, fleet of foot,
tanned in the face; she was raised on the frontier, the fields were her
home. In vain we tried to reconcile her to the death that was inevitable.
"Hold me fast," she cried; "don't let me go." But even as she was pleading,
her little hands relaxed their clinging hold from my waist, and lifted
themselves eagerly aloft; lifted themselves with such straining effort,
that they lifted the wasted little body from its reclining position among
the pillows. Her face was turned upward, but it was her eyes that told
the story. They were filled with the light of Divine recognition. They
saw something plainly that we could not see; and they grew brighter and
brighter, and her little hand quivered in eagerness to go, where strange
portals had opened upon her astonished vision. But even in that supreme
moment she did not forget to leave a word of comfort for those who would
gladly have died in her place: "Mama," she was saying, "Mama, they are
not strangers. I'm not afraid." And every instant the light burned more
gloriously in her blue eyes till at last it seemed as if her soul leaped
forth upon its radiant waves; and in that moment her trembling form
relapsed among its pillows and she was gone.
--_Chicago Woman's World_