I heard of a Sunday-school concert at which a little child of eight was
going to recite. Her mother had taught her, and when the night came the
little thing was trembling so she could scarcely speak. She commenced,
"Jesus said," and completely broke down. Again she tried it: "Jesus said
suffer," but she stopped once more. A third attempt was made by her,
"Suffer little children--and don't anybody stop them, for He wants them
all to come," and that is the truth. There is not a child who has a
parent in the Tabernacle but He wants, and if you but bring them in the
arms of your faith and ask the Son of God to bless them and train them
in the knowledge of God, and teach them as you walk your way, as you lie
down at night, as you rise up in the morning, they will be blessed.
Never to See its Mother.
I was in an infirmary not long since, and a mother brought a little
child in. She said, "Doctor, my little child's eyes have not been opened
for several days, and I would just like you to do something for them."
The doctor got some ointment and put it first on one and then on the
other, and just pulled them open. "Your child is blind," said the
doctor; "perfectly blind; it will never see again." At first the mother
couldn't take it in, but after a little she cast an appealing look upon
that physician, and in a voice full of emotion, said, "Doctor, you don't
mean to say that my child will never see again?" "Yes," replied the
doctor, "your child has lost its sight, and will never see again." And
that mother just gave a scream, and drew that child to her bosom. "O my
darling child," sobbed the woman, "are you never to see the mother that
gave you birth? never to see the world again?" I could not keep back the
tears when I saw the terrible agony of that woman when she realized the
misfortune that had come upon her child. That was a terrible calamity,
to grope in total darkness through this world; never to look upon the
bright sky, the green fields; never to see the faces of loved ones; but
what was it in comparison to the loss of a soul? I would rather have my
eyes plucked out of my head and go down to my grave in total blindness
than lose my soul.
A Little Child Converts an Infidel.
I remember hearing of a Sabbath-school teacher who had led every one of
her children to Christ. She was a faithful teacher. Then she tried to
get her children to go out and bring other children into the school. One
day one of them came and said she had been trying to get the children of
a family to come to the school, but the father was an infidel, and he
wouldn't allow it. "What is an infidel?" asked the child. She had never
heard of an infidel before. The teacher went on to tell her what an
infidel man was, and she was perfectly shocked. A few mornings after the
girl happened to be going past the post-office on her way to school, and
she saw the infidel father coming out. She went up to him and said, "Why
don't you love Jesus?" If it had been a man who had said that to him
probably he would have knocked him down. He looked at her and walked on.
A second time she put the question, "Why don't you love Jesus?" He put
out his hand to put her gently away from him, when, on looking down, he
saw her tears. "Please, sir, tell me why you don't love Jesus?" He
pushed her aside and away he went. When he got to his office he couldn't
get this question out of his mind. All the letters seemed to read, "Why
don't you love Jesus?" All men in his place of business seemed to say,
"Why don't you love Jesus?" When he tried to write his pen seemed to
shape the words, "Why don't you love Jesus?" He couldn't rest, and on
the street he went to mingle with the business men, but he seemed to
hear a voice continually asking him, "Why don't you love Jesus?" He
thought when night came and he got home with his family, he would forget
it; but he couldn't. He complained that he wasn't well, and went to bed.
But when he laid his head on the pillow that voice kept whispering, "Why
don't you love Jesus?" He couldn't sleep. By and by, about midnight, he
got up and said, "I will get a Bible and find where Christ contradicts
himself, and then I'll have a reason," and he turned to the book of
John. My friends, if you want a reason for not loving Christ, don't turn
to John. He knew Him too long. I don't believe a man can read the gospel
of John without being turned to Christ. Well, he read through, and found
no reason why he shouldn't love Him, but he found many reasons why he
should. He read this book, and before morning he was on his knees, and
that question put by that little child led to his conversion.
The Dying Child.
A lady had a little child that was dying. She thought it was resting
sweetly in the arms of Jesus. She went into the room and the child asked
her: "What are those clouds and mountains that I see so dark?" "Why,
Eddy," said his mother, "there are no clouds or mountains, you must be
mistaken." "Why, yes, I see great mountains and dark clouds, and I want
you to take me in your arms and carry me over the mountains." "Ah,"
said the mother, "you must pray to Jesus, He will carry you safely,"
and, my friends, the sainted mother, the praying wife, may come to your
bedside and wipe the damp sweat from your brow, but they cannot carry
you over the Jordan when the hour comes. This mother said to her little
boy, "I am afraid that it is unbelief that is coming upon you, my child,
and you must pray that the Lord will be with you in your dying moments."
And the two prayed, but the boy turned to her and said: "Don't you hear
the angels, mother, over the mountains, and calling for me, and I cannot
go?" "My dear boy, pray to Jesus, and He will come; He only can take
you." And the boy closed his eyes and prayed, and when he opened them a
heavenly smile overspread his face as he said, "Jesus has come to carry
me over the mountains."
Dear sinner, Jesus is ready and willing to carry you over the mountains
of sin, and over your mountains of unbelief. Give yourself to Him.
The Finest Looking Little Boy Mr. Moody ever Saw.
A few years ago I was in a town down in our state, the guest of a family
that had a little boy about thirteen years, who did not bear the family
name, yet was treated like the rest. Every night when he retired, the
lady of the home kissed him and treated him in every respect like all
the other children. I said to the lady of the house, "I don't understand
it." I think he was the finest looking boy I have ever seen. I said to
her, "I don't understand it." She says, "I want to tell you about that
boy. That boy is the son of a missionary. His father and mother were
missionaries in India, but they found they had got to bring their
children back to this country to educate them. So they gave up their
mission field and came back to educate their children and to find some
missionary work to do in this country. But they were not prospered here
as they had been in India, and the father said, "I will go back to
India;" and the mother said, "If God has called you to go I am sure it
will be my duty to go and my privilege to go, and I will go with you."
The father said, "you have never been separated from the children, and
it will be hard for you to be separated from them; perhaps you had
better stay and take care of them."
But after prayer they decided to leave their children to be educated,
and they left for India. This lady heard of it and sent a letter to the
parents, in which she stated if they left one child at her house she
would treat it like one of her own children. She said the mother came
and spent a few days at her house, and being satisfied that her boy
would receive proper care, consented to leave him, and the night before
she was to leave him, the missionary said to the Western lady: "I want
to leave my boy tomorrow morning without a tear;" said she, "I may never
see him again." But she didn't want him to think she was weeping for
anything she was doing for the Master. The lady said to herself, "She
won't leave that boy without a tear." But the next day when the carriage
drove up to the door, the lady went up stairs and she heard the mother
in prayer, crying, "Oh God, give me strength for this hour. Help me to
go away from my boy without a tear." When she came down there was a
smile upon her face. She hugged him and she kissed him, but she smiled
as she did it. She gave up all her five or six children without shedding
a tear, went back to India and in about a year there came a voice, "Come
up hither." Do you think she would be a stranger in the Lord's world?
Don't you think she will be known there as a mother that loved her
child?
"Emma, this is Papa's Friend."
A gentleman one day came to my office for the purpose of getting me
interested in a young man who had just got out of the penitentiary. "He
says," said the gentleman, "he don't want to go to the office, but I
want your permission to bring him in and introduce him." I said, "Bring
him in." The gentleman brought him in and introduced him, and I took him
by the hand and told him I was glad to see him. I invited him up to my
house, and when I took him into my family I introduced him as a friend.
When my little daughter came into the room, I said, "Emma, this is
papa's friend." And she went up and kissed him, and the man sobbed
aloud. After the child left the room, I said, "What is the matter?" "O
sir," he said, "I have not had a kiss for years. The last kiss I had was
from my mother, and she was dying. I thought I would never have another
one again." His heart was broken.
Moody's Little Emma.
I remember one time my little girl was teasing her mother to get her a
muff, and so one day her mother brought a muff home, and, although it
was storming, she very naturally wanted to go out in order to try her
new muff. So she tried to get me to go out with her. I went out with
her, and I said, "Emma, better let me take your hand." She wanted to
keep her hands in her muff, and so she refused to take my hand. Well, by
and by she came to an icy place, her little feet slipped, and down she
went. When I helped her up she said, "Papa, you may give me your little
finger." "No, my daughter, just take my hand." "No, no, papa, give me
your little finger." Well, I gave my finger to her, and for a little way
she got along nicely, but pretty soon we came to another icy place, and
again she fell. This time she hurt herself a little, and she said,
"Papa, give me your hand," and I gave her my hand, and closed my fingers
about her wrist, and held her up so that she could not fall. Just so God
is our keeper. He is wiser than we.
Little Jimmy.
A friend of mine in Chicago took his Sabbath-school out on the cars
once. A little boy was allowed to sit on the platform of the car, when
by some mischance he fell, and the whole train passed over him. They had
to go on a half a mile before they could stop. They went back to him and
found that the poor little fellow had been cut and mangled all to
pieces. Two of the teachers went back with the remains to Chicago. Then
came the terrible task of telling the parents about it. When they got to
the house they dared not go in. They were waiting there for five minutes
before anyone had the courage to tell the story. But at last they
ventured in. They found the family at dinner. The father was called
out--they thought they would tell the father first. He came out with the
napkin in his hand. My friend said to him: "I have got very bad news to
tell you. Your little Jimmy has got run over by the cars." The poor man
turned deathly pale and rushed into the room crying out, "Dead, dead."
The mother sprang to her feet and came out of the sitting-room where the
teachers were. When she heard the sad story she fainted dead away at
their feet. "Moody," said my friend, "I wouldn't be the messenger of
such tidings again if you would give me the whole of Chicago. I never
suffered so much." I have got a son dearer to me than my life, and yet I
would rather have a train a mile long run over him than that he should
die without God and without hope. What is the loss of a child to the
loss of a soul?
Stubborn Little Sammy.
At one time my sister had trouble with her little boy, and the father
said, "'Why, Sammy, you must go now and ask your mothers forgiveness."
The little fellow said he wouldn't. The father says, "You must. If you
don't go and ask your mothers forgiveness I shall have to undress you
and put you to bed." He was a bright, nervous little fellow, never still
a moment, and the father thought he would have such a dread of being
undressed and put to bed. But the little fellow wouldn't, so they
undressed him and put him to bed. The father went to his business, and
when he came home at noon he said to his wife: "Has Sammy asked your
forgiveness?" "No," she said, "he hasn't." So the father went to him and
said, "Why, Sammy, why don't you ask your mother's forgiveness?" The
little fellow shook his head, "Won't do it." "But, Sammy, you have got
to." "Couldn't." The father went down to his office, and stayed all the
afternoon, and when he came home he asked his wife, "Has Sammy asked
your forgiveness?" "No, I took something up to him and tried to have him
eat, but he wouldn't." So the father went up to see him, and said, "Now,
Sammy, just ask your mother's forgiveness, and you may be dressed and
come down to supper with us." "Couldn't do it," The father coaxed, but
the little fellow "couldn't do it." That was all they could get out of
him. You know very well he could, but he didn't want to. Now, the
hardest thing a man has to do is to become a Christian, and it is the
easiest. That may seem a contradiction, but it isn't. The hard point is
because he don't want to.
The hardest thing for a man to do is to give up his will. That night
they retired, and they thought surely early in the morning, he will be
ready to ask his mothers forgiveness. The father went to him--that was
Friday morning--to see if he was ready to ask his mother's forgiveness,
but he "couldn't." The father and mother felt so bad about it they
couldn't eat; they thought it was to darken their whole life. Perhaps
that boy thought that father and mother didn't love him. Just what many
sinners think because God won't let them have their own way. The father
went to his business, and when he came home he said to his wife, "Has
Sammy asked your forgiveness?" "No." So he went to the little fellow and
said, "'Now, Sammy, are you not going to ask your mother's forgiveness?"
"Can't," and that was all they could get out of him. The father couldn't
eat any dinner; it was like death in the house. It seemed as if the boy
was going to conquer his father and mother. Instead of his little will
being broken, it looked very much as if he was going to break theirs.
Late Friday afternoon, "Mother, mother, forgive," says Sammy--"me." And
the little fellow said "me," and he sprang to his feet and said: "I have
said it, I have said it. Now dress me, and take me down to see father.
He will be so glad to know I have said it." And she took him down, and
when the little fellow came in he said, "I've said it, I've said it."
Oh, my friends, it is so easy to say, "I will arise and go to my God."
It is the most reasonable thing you can do. Isn't an unreasonable thing
to hold out? Come right to God just this very hour. "Believe on the Lord
Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved."
Spurgeon and the Little Orphan.
While we were in London, Mr. Spurgeon one day took Mr. Sankey and myself
to his orphan asylum, and he was telling about them--that some of them
had aunts and some cousins, and that every boy had some friend that took
an interest in him, and came to see him and gave him a little pocket
money, and one day he said while he stood there, a little boy came up to
him and said, "Mr. Spurgeon, let me speak to you," and the boy sat down
between Mr. Spurgeon and the elder, who was with the clergyman, and
said, "Mr. Spurgeon, suppose your father and mother were dead, and you
didn't have any cousins, or aunts, or uncles, or friends to come and
give you pocket money, and give you presents, don't you think you would
feel bad--because that's me?" Said Mr. Spurgeon, "the minute he asked
that, I put my right hand down into my pocket and took out the money."
Because that's me! And so with the Gospel; we must say to those who have
sinned, the Gospel is offered to them.
A Child Looking for its Lost Mother.
A little child, whose mother was dying, was taken away to live with some
friends because it was thought she did not understand what death is. All
the while the child wanted to go home and see her mother. At last, when
the funeral was over, and she was taken home, she ran all over the
house, searching the sitting room, the parlor, the library, and the
bedrooms. She went from one end of the house to the other, and when she
could not find her mother, she wished to be taken back to where they
brought her from. Home had lost its attractions for the child when her
mother was not there. My friends, the great attraction in heaven will
not be its pearly gates, its golden streets, nor its choir of angels,
but it will be Christ. Heaven would be no heaven if Christ were not
there. But we know that He is at the right hand of the Father, and these
eyes shall gaze on Him by-and-by; and we shall be satisfied when we
awake with his likeness.