A LITTLE boy who came before the pastor to be received into the church,
was asked how he expected to lead a Christian life, and he sweetly
replied, "I will put my hand in Jesus' hand, and I know He will lead me
right." This is just the thing, my little ones, for us _all_ to do, and
if we did it, we should not so often stumble and fall. We are so apt to
try to walk _alone_! But this we cannot do, in this dark world.
I called to see a dear friend lately, and she repeated to me a lovely
poem in which these two lines occurred:
I'd rather walk with Him in the dark
Than to walk alone in the light.
And I assure you the former is far safer for us than the latter. He
never lets us fall, if we hold His hand!
"WHAT SHE COULD."
ALICE MERWYN felt as though she had stepped into a new world that
Monday morning when she began her summer's work at Lime Rock. An entire
stranger in the neighborhood, expected to teach and manage twenty
restless and judging from appearances hitherto unmanageable children,
and she only seventeen, she was nearly overwhelmed.
And yet Alice Merwyn was not easily discouraged; she had a certain
self-poise which some people called self-conceit, others named
self-confidence, but which, name it as you will, grew out of a
knowledge of her powers coupled with a strong faith in her Leader.
As the days went by she found she had no easy task. There were two or
three disorderly spirits in the school who set at defiance all rules.
She was surprised at the utter ignorance which some of her pupils
showed of the Bible and religious truth.
She had resolved to open school with devotional exercises, as the
trustee had assured her there would be no objection to such a course.
None of the children brought their Bibles the first day, but in
compliance with her request there was quite a show of Bibles the next
morning. One or two said they had none, and these were allowed to "look
over" with those who were willing to share their books with them. Alice
gave out the chapter which she had selected for their reading, and one
little girl looked up in surprise to see them all finding the place,
and asked with a puzzled expression:
"Is it alike in all the books?" And then she as well as others had to
be shown how to find the chapter. And Alice explained that the Bible
was the word of God, and the books they had brought were all copies of
the words which God had given to his people. When she asked how many
knew the Lord's Prayer, only three raised their hands. And as for the
Ten Commandments, the most of the children had never heard of them. And
Alice thought, "surely here is work for some one."
During that week she tried to teach them the Lord's Prayer, but as they
made slow progress in the few moments which she felt that she had a
right to use in that way, she thought of a plan.
"How many of you would like to come here Sunday afternoon and be taught
about God and the Bible?"
Almost every hand went up, and the appointment was made and kept, too.
And every Sunday afternoon all through the summer Alice Merwyn spent an
hour in the dingy little country schoolhouse surrounded by a group of
children who soon came to hang upon her words as well as upon her chair.
"Dear me! I should think you had enough of those children through the
week without going there these hot Sunday afternoons!" said May Andrus,
the daughter of the lady with whom Alice boarded.
"Well, it seems that they do not have enough of me!" replied Alice,
laughing a little.
"But they have no right to your Sundays!" said May.
"I differ with you; I think they have the best right."
"I do not understand; I supposed you were hired to teach five days in
the week, only," replied May.
"True, Mr. Pratt engaged me for the school week, but I have another
Master, May. And he seems to be saying to me 'do this thing.' The
children need me, I think, and that is why I said they have a right to
a part of my Sundays."
"O, you are too good to be comfortable! Now if you would give up the
scheme and sit in the hammock this afternoon and read, how we would
enjoy ourselves!"
"I must not disappoint the children!" and Alice went down the dusty
road wishing that May was interested in the matter enough to go with
her.
After the lesson of that afternoon they lingered a little in familiar
talk. Fred Pratt had been the most unruly of all her pupils, but of
late he had changed greatly, and his example was having a marked effect
upon the good order of the school. That afternoon Alice said:
"I wonder how many of us hope we are Christians? or how many are trying
to be Christians?"
There was a little hesitation, a looking shyly at each other,
then three hands went up. And Alice's heart gave a great bound of
thanksgiving.
"What makes you think so?" she asked, and Fred spoke first:
"For one thing I think I am not as saucy to you as I used to be, and I
know I could not help it, if Jesus did not hold me back from getting
mad. O, Miss Merwyn! I have learned a great deal from you. I never knew
anything about the Bible before you came! I've read it some, but it
never seemed a bit interesting, but now I love it, and I just want to
tell people how nice it is. I don't believe everybody knows about it!"
[Illustration: "ALICE WENT DOWN THE DUSTY ROAD."]
"I am afraid they do not," said Alice, "and, Fred, it is a good thing
to want to tell others the good news and perhaps the Lord will want
you to do that when you are older. Who knows?"
Then little Annie Andrus spoke.
"I think, teacher, that I am a better girl than I was, because I do not
get so vexed at sister May when she pulls my curls mornings; I used to
scream sometimes, and now I just set my teeth hard and ask Jesus to
help me to keep back the yell! and I haven't quarrelled with Kittie in
a week."
Fannie Brown was older than Annie, indeed she was the oldest scholar in
school, and as Alice turned towards her, she said softly,
"I am so happy, and the little hymns which you have taught us keep
bubbling over all the time. Everything goes right, and I love the
Saviour, and am trying all the time to do what He would like to have
me do. I don't know as it is being a Christian, but I want to be one,
if I am not."
"What makes you so queer to-night?" asked May that evening.
"Queer, am I?" returned Alice.
"Yes, queer and quiet. Your face shines as if you had heard some
wonderful news or something."
"I have!" said Alice. "I have heard of that which angels smile over."
And then she told May the story of the afternoon, and May replied, more
soberly than her wont, "I declare, Alice Merwyn, if there is anything
in religion that will subdue such a boy as Fred Pratt has been I shall
believe in it! Why, he has been the terror of the neighborhood! And
dear little Annie! I shall never twitch her hair again."
May put up her frizzes silently with a quiet look on her face, and at
length she turned to Alice and said:
"I believe I'll go to Sunday-school with you after this. I can't have
my little sister getting ahead of me."
Do you think Alice Merwyn will ever regret the effort she made to help
the children in that out-of-the-way neighborhood to a knowledge of the
truths of the Bible?