beautiful text, “The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him; to
all that call upon him in truth.” It is in the 145th Psalm. Yes, God
hears even the youngest child who asks for his help in faith.
Ernest ran up the hill as fast as he could, though it was very steep and
covered with furze bushes.
You may imagine his joy when he got near the top, and saw little Charles
about two hundred yards before him, running along a very dangerous path,
which was full of rough stones; on one side the ground sloped towards
the wood, and on the other it was a precipice towards the lake.
Poor little Charles was crying very sadly: he stopped and wiped his eyes
with his pinafore, and then ran on again, and then stopped again and
cried, and then ran on again.
“Charley, my dear Charley,” said Ernest.
Charley stopped and looked behind him.
“Oh, my dear Charles,” said Ernest, leaping over the bushes and catching
him in his arms, “God has preserved you.”
Presently their father came up. “Thank God,” he exclaimed, and taking
Charles in his arms he kissed him, and they hastened back to the house.
Mrs. Sinclair had just come in, and was deeply grieved at what had
happened; but instead of giving way to grief, or flying into a passion,
she inquired what had been done to search for him, and finding that
proper measures were taken, she went into her own room, and prayed that
her little Charles might be brought back again in safety.
While she was thus employed, she heard Ernest’s voice at a distance:
“Here he is; here he is; we have found him!” She opened the window, and
exclaimed, “Oh! where, where, let us be thankful!”
Mr. Sinclair was carrying him in his arms.--The poor child had fallen
asleep, but he was much agitated, and sobbed deeply. They laid him on
his bed, and by degrees he became more calm.
Fanny stood at the further end of the room; she was still weeping, but
her tears were tears of joy.
“Fanny,” said her mistress, “come here; I have cause to blame you very
much, and should do so, but I know you are not accustomed to be
careless, and I see you deeply feel the consequences of your neglect.
Learn from what has happened, that a very trifling neglect of our duty
may be the cause of a very serious evil. If you had attended to your
duty and my orders, what painful feelings would you have saved both
yourself and us. You are young; never, never forget this lesson, and
entreat the Lord to improve it for your good.”
“We may all learn a lesson from it,” said Mr. Sinclair; “my grief at
missing Charles, and my fear lest some accident had befallen him, made
me think of the goodness of our heavenly father towards us. I said to
myself, God compares his love towards his children, to that which I feel
for little Charles; surely, then, I ought not to fear that he will leave
me, or forsake me; and if I should be so unhappy as to wander from his
paths, surely I may hope that he will seek for me, and lead me back
again.”
_Mrs. S._ That reminds me of what our Saviour said, when he compared
himself to the good shepherd who goes to seek for the sheep that has
wandered from the fold, and having found it, carries it home, rejoicing.
_Ernest._ When I saw how unhappy little Charles was, it made me think
how miserable those are who wander from the ways of the Lord; and when I
see how glad we all are, that dear little Charles is brought home in
safety, it reminds me of the joy there will be in heaven over one sinner
that repenteth, and is brought back again.
_Mr. S._ Since our Lord has been pleased to try us in this manner for a
short time; let us entreat that he would bless this trial to our hearts,
and let us not forget the thanks which we owe to him. He is indeed
merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy. He hath
not dealt with us according to our sins, nor rewarded us according to
our iniquities. Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord
pitieth them that fear him.
The hour for family prayer was now come. Mr. Sinclair read the 103d
Psalm, and while he endeavoured to bless the Lord for all his benefits,
he did not forget the mercy which they had so lately experienced.
Before she went to rest, Mrs. Sinclair looked at little Charles; he just
woke, and smiled at his mother, gave her a sweet kiss, and then went
comfortably to sleep again.
[Illustration]
REAL CHARITY.
The winter had just set in. The weather was severe, and there was every
appearance that the poor would have to undergo many hardships. Mr.
Halton, a faithful minister of Christ in Switzerland, mentioned in his
sermon that it was necessary to make collections for them.
“My dear people,” said he, “let us remember the love wherewith Christ
hath loved us; he, who is the only son of the father, and heir of all
things ‘for your sakes became poor, that ye through his poverty might be
rich.’ (2 Corinthians viii. 9.) Remember also the words of the Psalmist,
‘Blessed is he that considereth the poor, the Lord will deliver him in
time of trouble.’ My dear friends, there are many poor persons amongst
us. Some are too old or too feeble to work; if the weather continues
severe, others will not be able to get employment; and there are several
whose families are so numerous that they are in difficulties in the most
favourable times. You know, that old people and children, in particular
suffer much in cold weather. Recollect these persons are our brethren;
and I trust that some among them have been brought from darkness to
light, to the knowledge and love of Christ. These, especially, we ought
not to neglect, (Gal. vi. 10.) and I am glad to find that some of our
number have resolved to do as they have done before. They have
determined to labour harder than usual, to assist in supporting these
feeble brethren, remembering the words of our Lord as mentioned by the
apostle, (Acts xx. 35.) ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’ I
hope many of us are willing to follow this example.”
After the sermon a collection was made; it was larger than usual, and,
during the week following, several persons sent money and clothes for
the same purpose.
Susan was the daughter of a shoemaker. Both her parents feared God. She
had heard the sermon, and as she walked home she thought a good deal of
what the minister had said about the old people and children. Her mother
had been forced to stay at home to nurse the baby, but she asked her
daughter about the sermon.
“It is our duty,” said she, when Susan had related the particulars; “it
is our duty to assist the poor. All we possess was given to us by God,
and it is our duty to help his children and people.”
Susan sat silent for some time: she then said, “Mother, you know that
father pays me a half-penny for every pair of shoes I bind, and he lets
me do what I please with the money: suppose I ask him to send it to our
minister, for the poor. And you promised to buy me a pair of clogs at
Christmas, but these old ones will last me some time longer, and you
know I never have chilblains, so if you please, mother, you can send
that money also.”
The mother gave her daughter a kiss of affection and pleasure. The
father entered, and inquired what they were talking about. His wife told
him.
_Father._ It is very right, for there are many amongst us who are much
distressed; our minister told me that Old Simon is quite paralytic, and
his daughter is ill of a fever and keeps her bed. Suppose we only have
meat for our dinner twice a week this winter, we shall be better able to
help our neighbours.
This was agreed to, and also that Susan should be allowed to give what
she had proposed; her father said he would pay what she earned every
week to their minister. “Would not it be better,” said the little girl,
“to put it into the poor’s box without saying any thing about it?”
_F._ It is the same in the end, my dear; but I think our minister would
be glad to receive it himself. It is, as I may say, the first-fruit you
have produced; he has taken much pains in teaching you, and a gardener
rejoices to gather the fruit from the trees he has planted.
_Mother._ You are right, Susan, in not wishing that your alms should be
seen of men, as our Lord said in his sermon on the mount, “Take heed
that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them: otherwise ye
have no reward of your father which is in heaven.” (Matt. vi. 1.) But I
think, with your father, that it will be proper in this instance, to
show our minister that you desire to obey the will of the Lord.
Susan very wisely thought that her parents knew best what was proper, so
she only was anxious to bind as many shoes as she could, that there
might be the more money to help the poor children: she had learnt, and
she did not forget, the 5th commandment, “Honor thy father and thy
mother that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God
giveth thee.” The next morning was Monday, she rose early, read a
chapter, and prayed as usual, she then set to work and had finished half
a shoe before breakfast. She worked that day as hard as she could, and
half an hour longer than usual, so she trimmed a pair more than she did
in general.
[Illustration]
But do not suppose she looked as if she were proud of what she had
done, or that she was less active in doing what it was her regular
business to perform in the family. She was ready to nurse the baby or to
do any thing else her mother directed.
She did this from love to God and therefore did not merely try to get
her parents’ praise. She was more attentive than ever to do what they
wished, and did not say a word about her having risen earlier or worked
harder than usual. Tuesday, Wednesday, and all the rest of the week,
passed just like Monday. Mark this, my little reader; for it often
happens that young folks determine to do something which is very right
and proper, but in a few days they are tired of it.
Now Susan had begun this work in a right manner, she prayed in her mind
before she spoke to her mother. She acted as the Bible directs,
honouring her father and mother by asking their approval, so we need not
be much surprised that she was able to keep firm to her resolution, and
that the whole week passed without her feeling tired, because she had
been so busy and had played so little.
This week she earned threepence more than usual; and on Sunday morning
her father put into the minister’s hand eightpence, which was the whole
of her earnings, telling him whence it came, and what was to be done
with it. Susan and her mother were going out of church; when she saw her
father go up to the minister, she could not refrain from looking to see
what passed: the minister appeared pleased.
Christmas day came, it was cold, wet, and dirty. Susan could not help
thinking of the new clogs; she was silent for a few minutes, when her
mother inquired if she really had made up her mind to do without them?
“Yes dear mother,” at last, said she, sewing away very busily, and
without looking up; “I have not to go out much in the wet. To be sure I
should like to have them to wear on Sunday;--but then,--perhaps that is
because I should like the neighbours to see them, and _that_ I am sure
is not a good reason.”
_M._ Then you have made up your mind to go without a new year’s gift,
for I do not intend to buy you any thing else?
_Susan._ Mother, I do not want a new year’s gift. I have all I want, and
even more than I need provided for me every day, through the blessing of
God, by your kindness. There are a great many boys and girls in the
village who will not have any new year’s gift; and they have not got
thick shoes and warm frocks as I have.
_M._ Then I am not to buy the clogs?
_S._ No, mother; but ask father to give the money they would cost, next
Sunday, with the rest.
The new clogs were not bought, and Susan contrived to pass the winter
without them. Every week (for she did not miss one) her father gave her
earnings to the minister; it was always six-pence or sevenpence, and two
weeks it amounted to tenpence! When the snow fell very fast, and the air
felt very keen and frosty, Susan was happy to think that her pence were
keeping some of the poor little children from the cold.
Now I will relate what was done with Susan’s money. Her father requested
the minister to apply it for the use of some one family, and
particularly for clothing a poor child. There was a widow who had one
little boy, they were very poor, he was bare-footed and almost naked:
the mother was a good woman, so the minister bought clothes for her son,
and advanced the money till Susan’s contributions were enough to repay
him, and when the price of the clogs was added, only about a third
remained unpaid.
One day, in the beginning of February, the shoemaker told Susan to
accompany him to the minister’s house, as he was going to take home some
work. The fields were all covered with snow, she put on her thick shoes,
which she had lined with flannel, and followed her father.
When they arrived at the minister’s house, he spoke very kindly to
Susan; taking out a little account book he showed her father how he had
disposed of his daughter’s earnings. “The jacket and trowsers are now
quite paid for, and a nice cap besides;” said he. The shoemaker thanked
him, and they returned homewards. “Oh, it is cold, so very cold,” said
Susan, shrugging up her shoulders as she run along the path. “Do look,
father, at those poor birds pecking about in the road, I am sure they
can find very little there.”
_F._ Our heavenly father does not forget them. Remember the words of our
Lord, “Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not neither do they
reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly father feedeth them:” and
not a sparrow shall fall on the ground without his knowledge. (Matt. vi.
26. x. 29.)
Just then they passed by the house where the poor widow lived, whose son
had been clothed by Susan’s money. School was over, and little Ned came
running along the path full of glee. He looked very comfortable; he had
on a nice brown jacket and a warm cap; he was swinging his hands and
clapping them together, and did not seem at all cold.
“Well, master Ned, you seem very gay;” said the shoemaker. Ned laughed,
and ran into his mother’s cottage.
“His mother has taken good care of him;” said Susan.
“And so has my daughter,” added her father; “for, thank God, he put it
into your heart to clothe him. Our minister just now told me, he bought
those clothes for little Ned with the money you sent him.”
Susan was quite surprised; she could not have supposed that her little
earnings would have done so much good. Tears of joy came into her eyes,
and when they reached home she went into her own room, and kneeling down
blessed God, for having inclined her to do what made her so happy.
Can any boy or girl read this history without thinking, “How much better
it is to spend my money in making other people happy, than wasting it in
idle toys. How much better it will be for me to rest contented without
things which cannot do me any real good, that I may help those who want
the necessaries of life.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
PROVIDENCE;
_Or, the Mother and her Child_.
One fine afternoon in autumn, Samuel, a labourer in the village of
Ancenis, called his daughter Fanny, and told her to get her hat and
cloak, to accompany him on a visit to a friend in the next village, who
was ill.
The weather was fine, and the path between the villages was very
pleasant. Part of the way was between two hedges full of berries of
various colours, it then passed over an open down which commanded a
beautiful prospect, and at last, winding through a thick wood, came out
into some rich meadows.
Although Samuel was a poor labourer, without much education, and had
lived all his life in the country, he was not insensible to the beauty
of the works of God in creation. He had been accustomed from childhood
to read God’s holy word, and had drawn from thence much that instructed
his mind, with regard to the things of this world, as well as the
knowledge that made him wise unto salvation.
Thus he could enjoy the beauties of the country, and the lovely objects
of nature always appeared new and interesting. As he found much true
enjoyment in these contemplations, which directed his thoughts and his
love towards God, he endeavoured to induce his children also to take
pleasure in them. He used to take them with him into the fields, and
often pointed out to them various instances of the power, the wisdom,
and the goodness of God, who made all things.
Fanny was only twelve years old, but she already began to perceive that
knowledge is precious; and preferred her father’s instructions to idle
gossiping with the girls of the village. She was particularly fond of
listening to her parents’ friends, and always tried to learn something
from their conversation; so that she was very glad to accompany her
father in his visit that afternoon.
As the father and his daughter walked together, they conversed about the
goodness of the Lord, who forgets none of his creatures, not even the
smallest and most insignificant.
“Look round, my dear,” said Samuel, stopping at the highest part of the
down, from whence the view was very extensive, “see those villages, the
woods, and the river; every place you behold is peopled with an
innumerable multitude of creatures of various kinds.
[Illustration]
“Some walk upright, others crawl upon the ground; others burrow into the
earth, and form their habitation under the surface; others fly aloft,
and traverse the air in every direction; others swim in the waters.
Throughout the whole of creation, every part is the habitation of some
animal, or reptile, or insect. Even in the woods, among the leaves of
the trees, in the fruits they bear, in the earth from whence they grow,
nay, even among the stones, there are some living things. Now, whether
they are great or small, whatever they are, not one of them is forgotten
by Him who made it.”
As they walked, Samuel said, “God’s wonderful power is over _all_ his
works, from the vast whale which inhabits the seas, to the little
insects which are found in every drop of the water of yonder pool, but
which cannot be seen without the aid of a glass.”
_Fanny._ Is it possible, father, that God can take all this care of
every animal and insect, even of spiders, ants, grasshoppers, and worms?
[Illustration]
_Samuel._ Recollect, Fanny, that these things seem so insignificant to
you, because they are less than you; and appear to be of no use to you.
But look at the web which the spider is weaving upon that bush; examine
carefully what this skilful artist is about; what skill, what
regularity, and attention is shewn, in its net made from that slender
thread. In the first place observe the three or four cords which support
the whole; they are fastened to the branches, and are much stronger than
the rest of the web; then notice these more slender threads which are
fixed to the others and meet together in the centre: upon these threads,
which remind us of the spokes of a wheel, the spider fixes finer threads
in circles, which are smaller and smaller from the outside to the
middle. Observe how this little insect has placed each circle at exactly
the same distance from the others, and how these circles are tighter as
they are nearer the centre. There, now it is finished. The spider has
completed her beautiful work. Now she has taken her post in the middle
of her web, her eight feet are placed upon its threads, and she watches
for the slightest motion which is made by any insect that touches her
web.--Now, my girl, can we suppose that God who made this insect, and
gave her this surprising skill, will forget her, and leave her so that
all her labour and pains will be useless! Surely not; let us wait a
little and see. There, now, watch that little fly. Ah, he is caught.
See, the spider is upon him in a moment; observe, she has entangled him
in some threads, and now she has killed him, and is feeding upon him.
She has food enough for to-day. God has provided for her.
_F._ Father, don’t you hear a little noise, as if somebody was filing or
sawing very gently?
_S._ That is a little animal which God remembers as well as the spider.
Don’t stir, and you will see him presently. There,--there he is.
_F._ What that pretty, very, very little mouse? Did he make that noise?
_S._ Yes, look here, I will shew you what it was. See under this leaf
two pieces of nut shell. The little field mouse held this nut in his two
fore paws, and with his long sharp teeth gnawed, or, as it were, filed
away the shell; he then ate away the kernel and is now gone to look for
something else.
_F._ Oh, father, how kind all this is. How well it is planned. Then
there is food for every little animal and insect. How great and how good
God must be, who orders all things!
By conversations like this, Samuel instructed his children. He took
every opportunity to draw their attention towards the eternal God, who,
although he does not converse with men upon earth, as before the fall,
yet shews his presence by many striking instances of love and mercy.
As Samuel and his daughter continued their walk, they came to the skirt
of a wood, where they found a young woman sitting by the side of a
spring, with an infant in her arms. The poor little child was crying
very bitterly, its mother wept also, and appeared quite overcome with
grief.
_S._ Poor child, how sadly you are crying. My good woman, be more calm;
tell me what is the matter?
_The Mother._ O, Sir, my child is dying; my child, my dear child.
_S._ No, I do not think so; it is in great pain, but it does not seem
likely to die; God has sent this trouble, and he can remove it. Trust in
him; take courage and exert yourself, and all will be well. Tell me what
is to be done.
_M._ Ah, Sir, you do not know what has happened. The birds yonder have
food for their young, but my little one is dying with hunger--with
hunger! I have no milk for it, and have walked all day across the
mountains without meeting any help. Oh, my boy, my dear boy, don’t cry
so sadly. If you did but know how unhappy it makes your mother.--
Samuel was silent, and deeply grieved. “My God,” said he, “be pleased to
hear the cries of this poor creature, and shew us what we should do.”
Fanny said to her father, “Our neighbour Nanny weaned little Charles
yesterday, I am sure she would be glad to take this little child.”
_S._ That is a good thought, my dear; I trust God has reminded you of
it. Let us make haste homewards; this poor woman and her child need our
help much more than the person we were going to see. Come, my good
woman, take courage; try and follow us, and your child will soon be
comforted. Fanny, let us go the path-way by the willows, that is the
nearest.
As Fanny walked along, she thought about the woman and her child, and
felt in some doubt and difficulty. “How is it,” said she to herself;
“how is it that God, who is so great, so powerful, and so good, should
provide for the spider and the little mouse, but should neglect that
little child, so weak and so helpless as not to be able even to ask for
what it wants, and should let it be in such a state that it must very
soon die! Why did God take away its mother’s milk? It is very strange!”
These last words she said aloud.
_S._ What is so very strange?
Fanny hesitated, and was afraid to tell what had passed in her mind,
lest it should be displeasing to God. So she said, “It was something,
father, which I do not quite understand; but I will think again about
it.”
_S._ You had better tell me, Fanny; do not be afraid of letting me know
what it was. Were you thinking about that little child, and wondering
why God appeared to have forgotten it, while He takes care of mice and
spiders?
_F._ (_colouring_.) I was afraid to say so; but I could not help
wondering at it. But I did not think that God was unjust, only I did not
understand his ways.
_S._ There is Nanny coming this way; we will talk again about this
subject by and by. Run to her, for you can run faster than I.
Fanny ran like a deer, and told their neighbour all that had happened.
Nanny hastened to Samuel, rejoicing that she could be of use. “This is,
indeed, providential,” said she; “give me the child, I will treat it as
if it was my own. Thank God, my good woman,” said she to the mother: “he
who made your child has directed it here; see, it is as well pleased
with my milk as if it were your own.”