“Jesus called a little child unto Him.”
When school hours were over on week days, Susan Morley used often to
visit the homes of her Sunday scholars; and one afternoon, about a year
after the events recorded in the last chapter, she set out for this
purpose, with the wish too of seeing one who had been absent from the
class the day before. It was another poor child who had been brought
into the school by the same little Jane, whose earnest efforts to say
“Come” to others had led to the rescuing of Daisy’s “prayer-children.”
For some time the child had come regularly to the class; but when Jane
called for her as usual one Sunday afternoon, she found her in tears,
and on inquiring the cause, the child told her that her mother had
said she should never go to the school again. Jane had tried to comfort
her, by promising to ask her teacher to come and see her, and did not
fail to lay the case before Susan as soon as school was over. Susan had
already made some inquiries respecting the child’s home, and was much
afraid, from what she had heard, that it would not be an easy matter
to persuade the mother to send her. However, seeking help and guidance
where none ever seek in vain, she set out the following afternoon to
see what could be done, and to try if possible to soften the hard heart
of poor little Bessie’s stepmother, and induce her to retract her
threat.
Turning down some narrow streets, she made her way into the close,
dingy-looking alley, in a court of which was Bessie’s home. Groups of
dirty children were playing about in the gutters; and women with untidy
hair, lounging at their doors, stared at her as she passed; but,
quietly looking upwards, she made her way through the midst of them
without annoyance, and at last reached the door of the miserable house,
in a garret of which little Jane had told her Bessie would be found.
The staircase was narrow and steep, with scant glimmer of light; and
the sound of rude voices in some of the rooms, as she made her way with
difficulty up the broken stairs, did not tend to reassure her. At last
she reached the top; but, to her surprise, whilst pausing for a moment
before knocking at the door, she heard a little voice inside singing.
It was the old familiar hymn, sung almost every Sunday at the school,
“There is a happy land, far, far away;” and the little singer seemed
so to enjoy the words, and to sing them with such heart, that Susan
did not like to interrupt her, but waited till she had finished before
knocking at the door for admittance.
When she did so, no one said, “Come in;” and she was obliged to repeat
her knock, this time saying as she did so, “Bessie, dear, are you at
home? I’ve come to see you.”
The door was not opened, but a voice from within answered, “Oh, please,
teacher, I’m so sorry I can’t open the door; but mother’s locked me in,
and taken the key, for fear I should run out and leave the babies. I’ve
got to take care of them till she comes home.”
“Very well, dear, never mind about the door; but tell me why you did
not come yesterday to school. I was so sorry not to have you in the
class.”
The child did not answer at once, and Susan almost reproached herself
for having asked the question, for she fancied she heard the sound of a
stifled sob, and then the child said in broken tones:
“I like to come to the school, but I mustn’t come again. Mother says
she won’t have me go there, and she’ll beat me if I do; but I want so
to hear some more about Jesus, and I’m trying to speak to Him, as you
told us.”
“That’s right, dear; and do you think if I were to teach you a little
prayer to say to Him, you would say it every night and morning, and
whenever else you are able through the day?”
“Oh, yes, teacher, that I would.”
“Well, then, dear, I want you to say after me: ‘O God, give me Thy Holy
Spirit, and take away all my sins, for Jesus Christ’s sake.’”
The child repeated the words after Susan several times, until she
thought she could remember them. Then Susan spoke to her as well as she
could through the closed door about the loving Saviour, who died for
little children, and who would wash away her sins, if she asked Him, in
His precious blood, and give His Holy Spirit to teach and guide her in
the right way, and at last, through His own great love, bring her to
the happy land she had been singing about. Then taking a little card
with a text on it out of her pocket, she slipped it under the door, and
told Bessie to try and learn it by the next time she came, and promised
if she knew it perfectly she should have another.
Bessie read the words on it, “I love them that love Me, and those that
seek Me early shall find Me;” and then Susan said:
“Do you know who it is that says this, dear Bessie?”
“It doesn’t tell us, teacher; but I should think it must be Jesus,
because you said He loves us.”
“And do you love Jesus, Bessie?”
“Oh yes, teacher, I do love Him.”
“Why do you love Him, dear?”
“Oh, teacher, because He died to save us from going to the dreadful
place, and because He’s so good to us.”
“And do you know, dear, what the verse means when it says, ‘Those that
seek Me _early_ shall find Me’?”
“Early in the morning, teacher, before we think of anything else.”
“Yes, dear, we should think of Him as soon as we wake in the morning;
our first thought should be of Him and His love; but it means something
beside this--that while you are young, quite in the morning of life,
you should seek Him as your Saviour and Friend, not wait till you are
grown up, because you may never live till then, and the sweet promise
is for children, ‘Those that seek Me _early_ shall find Me.’ I hope
little Bessie is beginning to seek Jesus early.”
“Yes, teacher; and I hope I shall see Him some day. I often lie awake
at night; and through the chinks in the roof I sometimes see the stars,
and they look so bright, and I know Jesus made them, and I say to
myself, ‘Jesus’s home is brighter even than those stars; and maybe
some day I shall get there, if my sins are washed away, and my naughty
heart is made clean.’ And when the babies are cross, and my arm aches
with nursing them, I sing my hymns and verses, and I forget I’m tired,
and I feel so happy; but I do want to come to school again.”
Susan promised the child to see if she could persuade her mother to
give her leave to return to the class; but bidding her, whether or not,
to try to be gentle, obedient, and patient, and thus to show her love
to the Lord Jesus, who had loved her with so great a love, she said
good-bye to her, and made her way once more down the rickety staircase.
As she went down, she heard the little voice upstairs beginning to sing
again the old favourite hymn; and with feelings of deep thankfulness
she thought to herself, “Truly, of such is the kingdom of heaven;” so
simply had this little child received the message of Christ’s love
into her heart, and as a little palm-tree flourishing in the midst of
a desert land, because its roots are watered by a hidden spring, was
bringing forth in an ungodly home, and with every outward disadvantage,
the fruit of holiness, to the glory and praise of God.
Susan made many efforts to see little Bessie’s stepmother, but without
success. She went out to work early in the morning, and purposely
avoided seeing her at other times. When Susan called at the house,
little Bessie, if not out, was always locked into the room. But the
child had many happy talks with her kind teacher through the closed
door; and though not allowed to come back to the school, she learned,
week after week, the verses which Susan slipped for her under the door,
and was treasuring up in her heart a store of precious texts which no
one could take away from her. After some time Susan managed to send her
a Bible by little Jane, and the joy of the child at having one of her
own was unbounded.
“I can now read all about Jesus, and perhaps some day mother will let
me read it to her.”
One evening, a few months later on, as Susan was sitting after tea by
Daisy’s couch, reading to her, the shop-bell rang, and on going to
answer it Elsie found little Jane waiting with a pale face, and tears
in her eyes. She had been running fast, and was so out of breath she
could not speak for a minute, but at last managed to get out that Susan
was wanted directly. Bessie’s mother had sent her--there had been an
accident, and Bessie was hurt, and had been taken to the hospital, and
was asking for “teacher.”
Susan was ready in a moment, and before long reached the hospital,
little Jane going with her as far as the entrance, and telling her
the few particulars she had gathered from Bessie’s stepmother about
what had happened. It appeared that the child had been sent out early
in the morning with some violets to sell; but not finding as many
customers as usual, and fearing her stepmother’s anger if she returned
without selling them, she had lingered about the streets till dusk.
Jane had met her, and tried to persuade her to come home; but she said,
“Oh no! not till I have sold my flowers; mother will be so vexed if I
don’t!”
When Jane asked her if she were not very tired and hungry, she said she
was tired, and she had a pain in her side, but she was saying over her
verses and hymns, and this helped her to forget how tired she was.
As Jane left her she heard her saying to herself, “He shall gather
the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom”--the last verse
Susan had given her to learn. She had not been at home much more than
an hour, when Bessie’s stepmother ran in, and told her to fetch Miss
Morley at once--that Bessie had been run over by a waggon, and had been
taken to the hospital.
Susan hurried upstairs to the ward where the poor child had been
carried; the doctor and nurse were standing on one side of the bed
as she entered, and, from the grave look on the face of the former,
she guessed what was indeed the case, that little or no hope was
entertained of the child’s recovery. Both her legs had been broken,
and her head severely injured as well. Her stepmother was sitting at
the foot of the bed, and seemed half stupefied. Susan stepped forward
quietly, and bending down over the poor little sufferer, said in a
gentle voice, “He shall gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them
in His bosom.”
The little eyes, which had been closed until now, opened for a moment
with returning consciousness, and the child smiled as the familiar
words fell on her ear, and held out her hand to Susan. Then, looking
up with a bright smile, she whispered, “I’m so happy. Tell mother I’m
going to Jesus; and I hope she’ll come too.” She made an effort to say,
“He shall gather the lambs with His arm;” and then with one little
sigh, turning her head on the pillow, as if going to sleep, she was
gently gathered into the fold of the Good Shepherd above.
Dear little Bessie! No more rough words or blows, no more pain and
hunger, no more tears, “the waves of this troublesome world” safely
crossed, and the little ship at anchor in the fair haven, where they
who enter in “shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither
shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the
midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living
fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their
eyes.”