SALLY'S FIRST SUNDAY AT CHURCH.
A feeling of Sabbath peace stole over little Pollie as she issued forth
from her humble home on her way to Sunday-school. All was still, so
quiet; the very court, usually noisy, seemed hushed. None of its
uproarious inhabitants were about, only poor crippled Jimmy was sitting
on the door-step warming himself in the feeble sunlight that flickered
down from among the crowded chimneys.
The little girl paused to speak a few kind words to him.
"I wish you could come with me," she said; "it is so nice."
"What! be school nice?" repeated the boy, who seemed to have the same
horror of learning as the more enlightened Sally Grimes.
"Yes," she replied; "indeed it is. They are all so kind to us there, and
teach us such beautiful verses and texts about God and our Saviour."
"Be that Him you told me on?" he asked. "I ain't forgot what you told me
afore--'Consider, and hear me, O Lord my God! lighten mine eyes, lest I
sleep the sleep of death.'"
"Oh, you are a good boy!" exclaimed the child encouragingly. "Now I will
tell you my text for to-day, and when I come back you shall hear what my
teacher says about 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.'"
"'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,'" repeated the crippled boy
with reverence. "I'll not forget it, Pollie," he added, as the little
girl prepared to start again, fearing to be late for school.
As she turned into Drury Lane, to her great surprise there stood Sally
Grimes, looking strangely shy, but tidily and, above all, neatly
dressed. The well-worn cotton gown was perfectly clean; indeed, for the
last two days Sally had been wearing a jacket over a petticoat whilst
the dress was being washed and dried. Her hair, usually rough, was now
smoothly brushed behind her ears, and her face and hands were as clean
as soap-and-water could make them. Evidently she had given up the idea
of the gaudy hat, for a neat bonnet covered her head. Altogether she
looked quite neat and respectable.
"Good morning," cried Pollie, joyously glad to see her kind friend.
"Where are you going?"
Sally hesitated
"May I come with you?" she stammered bashfully.
For the moment little Pollie could not reply; she felt too happy to
speak.
"Oh, I'm so glad!" she said at last, and taking her friend's hand in
hers, she proceeded onwards, the happiest little girl in the world.
What a contrast they were!--the sturdy, self-reliant London arab,
willing, ay, and able, to battle through the world unaided; the timid,
fragile Pollie, strong only in her efforts after good, firm only in her
love of truth.
You may imagine with what delight and pride she introduced Sally to her
kind teacher; what happiness it was to have her sitting by her side, to
see her rapt attention as the text was explained in simple words
suitable to the comprehension of the listening children; and when was
read the parable of the Good Shepherd, which had been the lesson on that
memorable evening when Sally first felt the eager longing to be gathered
into the Saviour's fold, Pollie instinctively grasped her friend's hand,
as once again the blessed message was repeated.
Happy indeed are they who gather His children in, shielding His little
ones from future harm, feeding His lambs with the bread of life.
For Sally Grimes this was all so new: the quiet Sabbath school, those
happy children; a light was dawming upon her hitherto clouded mind as
she heard of Jesus, who came on earth as a little child, endured a life
of poverty and sorrow, then died a cruel death to save us from eternal
misery. Never before had she heard the glad tidings of great joy, and
her heart was filled with unexpressed thankfulness and peace.
When class was over, the little scholars went their way to church, happy
Pollie with her friend's hand still clasped in hers; and the bells rang
out their peaceful chime, "It is the Sabbath! it is the Sabbath!" Even
the usual noisy bustle of the Strand was hushed in deference to God's
holy day. The busy world was calmed to celebrate the day of rest; the
peace of God seemed resting upon the earth.
How beautiful the church appeared to Sally, who had never until this day
entered a house of prayer (dear old St. Clement's Danes, hallowed to us
by many memories), and when the organ pealed forth, and the voices sang
"I will arise," she thought, "This must be God's house, and those the
angels singing."
There was some one else in the church that Sabbath-day who also thought
it must be heaven of which little Pollie had-spoken, and that was poor
crippled Jimmy.
Mrs. Turner on coming downstairs to go to church had found the
neglected boy as usual lonely and desolate. His drunken mother had gone
in a pleasure-van with a party of friends like herself to Hampton Court,
leaving her child to amuse himself as he could; and kindly Mrs. Turner
had carried him up to her own room, washed and dressed him in one of
Pollie's clean frocks, given him some wholesome bread-and-butter, then
brought him with her to church.
He sat so still and quiet by the widow's side, his eyes intently fixed
upon the clergyman, listening eagerly to every word that was spoken,
every hymn that was sung, realising in his untutored mind a foretaste of
that heaven of which his earliest friend had told, where hunger was
unknown, and where sorrow and sighing should flee away.
Once only, when the rector gave forth his text, "Consider the lilies of
the field," the boy grasped the widow's hand, and whispered--
"Be they the flowers Pollie give me?"
Heaven and Pollie's violets filled his heart.
* * * * *
Many were the happy children who issued forth from St. Clement's on that
Sabbath noon; some hand-in-hand with loving parents, wending their way
to homes of plenty, where kindly faces would be waiting to greet them;
but of the many, none were or could be happier than those three little
ones who gathered round Mrs. Turner when service was over, and, walking
side by side, went home to squalid Drury Lane. No well-filled table
awaited _their_ coming, only the plain and scanty fare the poor widow
could offer to her child's young friends; but One hath said--
"Whosoever giveth a cup of water to one of these little ones in My name,
verily I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward."
And this was Sally's first Sunday at church.