NEW YEAR'S morning dawned bright and clear; the pure snow gleamed like
diamonds in the rays of the glorious sun, but old Janet rose with a
heavy heart and a gloomy brow. She thought of the landlord calling for
the rent; she thought of her neighbours in their merry homes, and of
her grandson living in comfort in London; she thought of everyone being
happy but herself. If Janet thought also of God, I fear that it was
with little faith, little trust. She was so gloomy and sad that she did
not even smile at poor Annie when they first met, or wish her a happy
New Year.
Annie watched her Granny as she went up to the table on which lay her
large Bible open at the place where the child, as neatly as she could,
had copied out the hymn. Annie saw her Granny take out her spectacles,
slowly wipe them, put them on, and then sit down to read, as she always
read while the water was boiling for breakfast.
"I hope that Granny will be pleased," thought Annie. "I hope that she
will like the hymn now as she did in the summer, and know that I copied
it out as a little proof of my love. But dear me! What is the matter!
Granny is crying—crying over the hymn!"
For as the old woman read the Saviour's questions to her own heart,
first her lip trembled, then her eyes dimmed with tears, and she had
to take off her spectacles and wipe them before she could read any
farther. At last, when she had reached the sixth verse, the poor old
woman murmured to herself, "ungrateful sinner that I am!" and fairly
burst into tears.
"Oh! Granny, I never meant to write out anything to vex you, I never
thought that hymn would make you cry!" exclaimed Annie, quite in
distress.
"Is it not enough to make me cry to think that my Lord has done all
this for me, sinner that I am," sobbed old Janet, speaking not to
Annie, but to herself, "to think that He should have given Himself for
'me,' suffered for 'me,' died for 'me,' and that all the return which I
made is to doubt Him now! What proof of love could the dear Lord have
given more than He gave! He kept back nothing, not even His life! And
I—I have been finding fault with a poor lad for forgetting the little
kindness which I have shown, the little trouble which I have taken,
while all the while I was ungrateful to the Lord, who has done for me a
thousand—thousand times more than ever woman did for a child!"
The words of the beautiful verses had indeed gone straight to the heart
of Janet, and awoke in it sorrow and repentance, but other feelings
besides. Janet felt love, grateful love to Him who had first loved her;
and with love came peace, and hope, and trust, for He who had done so
much for her soul would, as she now felt sure, never, never forsake her.
Annie scarcely knew whether to be glad or sorry that she had written
out the hymn. But she had soon something else to take up her attention.
"Why, Granny, here's the postman coming again," cried out the child in
surprise; for to have letters two days running was a thing which had
never happened before to old Janet.
Annie ran to the door to take in the letter, and returned with a face
beaming with joy. "It's Joe's hand—he has written again," she cried, as
she gave the note to her Granny.
Janet had her spectacles on, and she opened the letter herself, but
as she did so, a little paper dropped fluttering to the floor. Annie
picked it up, and almost screamed with delight as she saw "three
pounds" written on a post-office order.
Janet clasped her wrinkled hands and softly exclaimed, "Thank God!"
then with a trembling voice read aloud the following letter.
"Dear Granny, I had not enough money yesterday to get you clear out of
trouble, and did not like to do more than let you know that I had got
your note, till I should find how much my watch would sell for. I am
pleased now to send £3; it is more than you will need for the rent, but
I want you to have a real good dinner on New Year's day,—and please,
with the rest of the money, buy a nice warm cloak for Annie, from me."
Annie kissed her brother's letter again and again; her heart was full
of love and joy.
"I hope that it's not wrong," she said, smiling as she examined the
post-office order, "but I can't help wishing that I could give such a
'proof of love' as Joe has done."
"Your little hymn has done as much—more for me than this money-order,"
said old Janet, with a trembling hand taking the paper from the child.
"This order shows me that I did wrong to doubt the love of my boy, but
the hymn has shown me how faithless and sinful it was in me ever, for
one moment, to doubt the love of my Saviour!"