WHILE Mary Dayál was rejoicing in her newly found peace and happiness,
Hira's heart was daily growing sadder. At the time Mary told her that
if she listened, she would hear the voice of the Lord Jesus speaking
to her, she made up her mind that she would begin to listen with all
her might. If she could not "see," at least she could hear, better than
most.
So she crept away to the quietest corner she could find, and after
saying,—
"Please, Lord Jesus, speak to me—"
sat still and waited for the answer. But though she waited long and
refused to eat food, which she was always so ready for, or to sit by
her dear sister Shushila, yet hour after hour passed, and still no
voice came.
Again and again she cried,—
"Please, Lord Jesus, speak to me like you did to Rose's mother."
But there was no answer.
Then she began to grow angry. She had been deceived by everybody; there
was no Jesus Christ at all. How could anyone know if they had never
seen Him? It must be a lie to say anyone had heard His voice. If He
were alive and close by her, as Shushila said, why did He not give her
eyes, or at least answer her when she spoke to Him?
So she groped her way to where Shushila was sitting, and before her new
sister knew that she was anywhere near, she was suddenly aroused by
hearing an indignant voice say, "It is very wicked of you all to tell
lies to a poor little blind girl who cannot see for herself. It is not
true that Jesus Christ is alive; I do not believe He ever was. He does
not make blind people see, and He does not speak so that we can hear
His voice. I have been listening and listening, but no voice came.
"I am not going to get ready to meet God, because there is no one to
make me ready. I will just go on being as naughty as I want to be, and
if you do not like to have a naughty girl to live with you, I will go
and beg. That is what my aunt always told me to do."
Shushila listened with astonishment to this outburst of childish wrath.
But by the time it was over, the child, who was trembling with anger
and excitement, felt two loving arms round her, and she was gently led
to a seat.
Shushila did not speak at once, for it required some thought and prayer
to know what to say. But she tenderly soothed and calmed the child she
held so closely to her.
Presently she said, "Little sister, do you remember the night you came
here? How you sat on the doorstep in the dark and storm, trembling with
fear of the thunder and lightning? Then I came to you, and though you
could not see me, nor hear my voice, yet you let me lift you in my arms
and bring you into the house. You trusted me, even though you could
neither hear nor see me.
"You are afraid now, not of storm and tempest, but of meeting God. You
are afraid of your own heart, which is so full of all kinds of sin and
naughtiness; and just as I lifted you in my arms and saved you from the
rain and storm, so the Lord Jesus will surely save you from the fear
and sin which are troubling you so much. Cannot you 'trust' Him, even
though you cannot see or hear Him, just as you trusted me that night?
It will grieve Him so if you do not, and He has loved us so dearly."
"But Rose's mother said she heard His voice," said Hira in a subdued
tone.
"Yes, dear, so will you some day, just as you hear my voice every day,
now you are in the house beside me and there is no noise of rain and
storm. But you did not hear it when you were sitting outside on the
doorstep, and did not know who was speaking to you."
"I think I will go away again," said Hira.
And as Shushila unclasped her arms, she groped her way back to her old
place.
Then she knelt down as Shushila had taught her, and said,—
"Lord Jesus, I want to see you very much, but I am blind, and I want
to hear your voice, but you do not speak to me; but most of all, I want
to be ready to meet God, and to be made good, because I am so bad.
Shushila says you are quite sure to do this, even though you do not
give me eyes, or speak to me in a loud voice, because she says you love
us so. Please, Lord Jesus, here I am."
Then into the dark, sinful heart of the blind girl, a light shone—the
light of the divine love poured out in death on the cross for the very
weakest and most unworthy.
As of old, the Son of God took the children in His arms and blessed
them, so, as the risen and exalted Son of God, He drew the blind child
to Himself, and Hira's quest was ended as she found the Saviour.
In the distance, she heard Shushila softly singing—
"Oh, dearly, dearly has He loved,
And we must love Him too,
And trust in His redeeming blood,
And try His works to do."
And as she listened, she knew what Mary Dayál meant when she said she
heard the Lord Jesus speak to her.
[Illustration]
TWENTY TIMES.
"COME near, Lizzie, and hear what I have to say!"
"I can hear!" called Lizzie at the top of her voice.
And the hens clucked, and the little kid "baa'd," and Snap barked, but
Lizzie came no nearer. She tossed the corn to the fowls, and took no
further notice of her mother waiting there.
"Lizzie!" called her mother, coming out of the doorway. "Lizzie, come
at once!"
"What is it?" asked Lizzie very coolly.
Her mother advanced out into the sunshine and came slowly up to
her. "Lizzie, you grieve me very much. I like you to play and enjoy
yourself, but when it comes to not attending when I call you—"
[Illustration]
She took the basket out of the little girl's hand, and led her gently
into the house.
"What are you going to do with me?" asked Lizzie, raising her blue eyes
wonderingly.
"I'm going to make you remember."
"But I haven't finished feeding the fowls."
No answer.
"Mother!"
No answer.
"Can't I put the little kid away?"
Her mother was getting out pencil and paper, which she laid on the
table in front of the little girl. And then she drew a chair forward
and put her gently into it.
Lizzie was awed by these proceedings. She was conscious that lately she
had been taking advantage of her mother's frail health to do as she
chose.
Her mother's thin fingers were tracing some words in large writing
across one of the sheets of her copy-book, which, to Lizzie's
astonishment, she had torn out for the purpose.
Torn out a leaf of her copy-book! The occasion must indeed be great.
Then five words stood before her in rather trembling, but plain,
round-hand—
"I must obey my mother."
"Write that twenty times before you move, Lizzie," said mother, "and
when it is done, come up and show it to me."
Slowly she left the room, and Lizzie saw her going out to shut up the
goat, and then watched her stoop and pick up the puppy and put him in
his kennel. Fancy mother doing that!
"Twenty times!" How "could" she write all that? was her next thought.
At first, she decided she would not even try to do it. Then she heard
her mother come back through the scullery and go up the stairs very
wearily.
Lizzie's heart smote her. She remembered with dismay all those thoughts
of independence and restiveness which she had been cherishing.
The sounds ceased, and perfect silence reigned. What was mother doing?
But she might not go to see till the twenty lines were done!
Tears filled the blue eyes at last.
"Oh, mother, mother," she sobbed, "I do love you! Come down and kiss
me!"
Perhaps her sobs were heard; there was a little movement above, and
presently the face Lizzie loved best in the world was close to hers,
and two arms were about her, and mother was whispering words of
forgiveness and "beginning again!"
"Lizzie," she said, "if I were to let you go on being self-willed, what
an unhappy girl you would grow up, and how wrong it would be of me! I
love you too well, my darling."
And Lizzie wrote those twenty lines with dimmed eyes. But she did
"begin again" in good earnest, and turned out to be mother's greatest
comfort.
HINDERED.
BY CATHARINE SHAW.
"I DON'T believe I shall ever learn it!" Hugh thought hopelessly. "It's
just one of those lessons that 'won't' get into your head."
"I say," began his next door neighbour, in a whisper, "did you see my
kite go up last night?"
"Oh, bother!" exclaimed Hugh. "I'd almost got a line, and now I've lost
it!"
"No, but did you?" persisted his neighbour.
[Illustration]
Hugh frowned, and put his fingers in his ears. Harry was always trying
to distract him, and the consequence was, down he went in his class.
No, the lesson would not get learned. Instead of the tiresome lines of
poetry, which he hated, came a string of thoughts like these:—
"Harry does it on purpose; of course, Harry is clever, he can carry
anything before him. My master always sets me the hardest pieces he can
find! I've had a headache all the morning, and Harry always bothers
more when he sees I've got a headache."
The preparation hour was over, and Hugh put his books into his satchel
with a hopeless feeling that if he had conquered that tiresome poetry,
he would have been able to fly "his" kite that evening. But now it was
quite useless: there would be such a chatter at home, that with his
headache, he would never do it!
So he entered the dining-room at home with clouded brow and heavy
heart. His eyes fell on his little invalid sister, lying on her pillow
in the corner.
She saw in a moment that something had gone wrong, and beckoned him to
her side.
"Put my pillow straight, Hughie!" she said, gently.
He bent to do it, and then kissed the little white face.
"Has it been so tiresome?" she asked wistfully.
"The old story!" he said, bitterly. "Headache and stupidity. It's no
use, Angel!"
"There's another 'old story' besides that one," she whispered, with a
slight nod of her little head.
He shook his, as much as to say he was willing to be comforted, but—
Yes, she understood that, but it did not daunt her. She stroked his
boyish hand with her thin fingers, and went on softly—"A lesson I had
to learn seemed very hard this morning—"
He looked at her suddenly. Angel learning a lesson?
But she went on—"And I felt I could not! And then—then I remembered to
tell Jesus about it, and He said, 'I'll help you, Angel; I've set it,
and I won't let it be too hard!'"
Her eyes were full of tears, and his watered in sympathy.
"And then?" he asked.
"Then I felt I could go on learning it—if 'He' had set it!"
He squeezed her hand, thinking—how could he put Harry and his headache
into one of the lessons Jesus was teaching? Then he raised his head.
"I see," he said, more brightly. "Angel, after tea, may I come and read
my poetry over to you, line by line!"
And then the rest came rushing in, but the little comforter had had her
chance—and had taken it!
[Illustration: A Schoolboy's Message.
"Oh, has it?" asked Tommy, looking up surprised.]
THE FIRST DAY.
"WELL, Tommy, where are you off to?"
"To 'school!'" said Tommy impressively, with surprise in his tone. He
thought everyone knew that this was his first day at school, and that
he had in his pocket a bright penny which grandfather had given him in
honour of the day.
"Oh, I see!" said the big boy, smiling down upon him and taking his
hand. "So you have a new suit and a new slate. How kind your mother is!"
"Yes," said Tommy, as if that were a very ordinary affair, "and
grandfather has given me this," letting the penny peep out of his
pocket just a little bit.
[Illustration]
"Oh!" said the big boy. "Someone else kind too, eh?"
"Grandfather's going away by train to the country to-day," pursued
the child; "he's going to where 'he' was a little boy, and lived at
a windmill, and went to school, like me, and he said he should be
thinking about me all day!"
"I'm not as old as grandfather," said the big boy, "and so it's no
wonder that I remember the first day 'I' went to school, is it? And
you know I had no kind mother like you have, Tommy, and it was 'your'
grandfather that gave me a kind word as I went past his cottage, that's
done the good ever since."
"Oh! Has it?" asked Tommy, looking up surprised.
"Yes. He told me to remember that the Lord Jesus was close to me all
the time, and would be better to me in everything than even father and
mother! I've never forgotten it—never!"
They hurried along hand in hand, the little boy skipping over the
ground with eagerness; while the big boy, who was a true missionary at
heart, wondered if the tiny seed he had tried to sow would bear fruit
some day.
But he remembered that we have to sow in faith, like Tommy's
grandfather did in his case; so he ran along by the little boy,
brightly planning to meet him after school to hear how he had got on.
Tommy never did forget that kind little word, and often when he would
have been over-pressed by difficulty, or evil, he suddenly thought,
"The Lord Jesus is close to me!" and took courage.
[Illustration]
HIRA'S QUEST.