"A city missionary, one Saturday night, was going home with a basket of
provisions on his arm. Meeting a policeman, he asked him if there had
any families moved in the bounds of his beat during the week. He
answered, 'Yes,' and, pointing to a building up an alley, said, 'a woman
and some children are living there now.'
"The missionary went to the house, rapped at the door, and was admitted.
The woman was sitting by a small light, sewing. In the corner of the
room, were two little girls, apparently from nine to twelve years of
age, playing.
"The missionary said, 'Madam, I am here to see if you will allow your
girls to attend Sunday-school to-morrow morning.' 'I would, sir; but
what you see on them is all the clothing they have, and you would not
wish them to go as they are now.' 'The Lord will provide, madam. Have
you no money?' 'Not yet, but I have committed my case into the hands of
the Lord.' 'Have you anything to eat?' 'Nothing, sir!' 'What will you do
for breakfast?' 'O, sir, I once had a husband; he provided when he
could. These children had a father; he supplied their wants; but he is
dead now. Yet my Maker, even God, is my husband, and He has promised to
be a father to the fatherless. We have committed all to Him, have called
upon Him in this our day of trouble. I am trusting in God to take care
of a poor widow and her children in a strange place, and I know He will
provide.' 'Thank God for such faith,' said the missionary; and, handing
her the basket, said 'here is your breakfast, and you shall have the
clothing for your children.' With tears streaming down her face, she
replied: 'Oh, thank God for his faithfulness! He heareth and answereth
prayer. May He bless you!' And, said our dear brother to us, 'I felt the
promise was sure, for she was blessed in receiving, I was more so in
giving.'"