"Yes, yes!" he said at last.
When they came near the crossing-place, she said: "Father, please stand here a minute." She loved him dearly and was willing to run the risk of dying for him. Strange as it may seem she walked quickly and jumped upon the loose rock, and down it went with the girl. She was crushed to death.
The trembling parent crept to the edge, and eyes dimmed with tears, gazed wildly upon the wreck. Then he thought of all his little child had told him about how Jesus had died to save us. He thought he had never loved her so much. But he began to see that he had far more reason to love Jesus who had suffered much more to save him from the "bottomless pit."
And then he thought of the promise he so carefully made to his daughter.
What could he do but kneel down and cry to G.o.d to have mercy upon him?
If they meet in heaven, do you think that daughter will be sorry that she sacrificed her life for her father"s sake? Can you not imagine that tears often filled the eyes of that father when he spoke of his sainted little one?
You would say that he would have been a very wicked man if he had not loved the memory of his child. But is it not a thousand times more wicked for you not to love Him who has loved you so much more than that little one loved her father?
How can you help loving such a precious Savior? Will you not ask Him to forgive you and help you to live for Him the rest of your life?
--_The Way of Faith_
"FORGOTTEN MY SOUL"
"Mother, you have forgotten my soul," so said a little girl, three years old as her kind and careful mother was about to lay her in bed. She had just risen from repeating the Lord"s prayer. "But, Mother," she said, "you have forgotten my soul."
"What do you mean, Anna?"
"Why,
"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep!
If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."
"We have not said that."
The child meant nothing more, yet her words were startling. And, oh!
from how many rosy lips might they come with mournful significance!
[Ill.u.s.tration]
You, fond mother, so busy hour after hour preparing and adorning garments for their pretty little form, have you forgotten the soul? Do you commend it earnestly to the care of its G.o.d and Savior? Are you leading it to commit itself, in faith and love to his keeping?--Selected.
PREVAILING PRAYER OF A CHILD
At the close of a prayer-meeting, the pastor observed a little girl about twelve years of age remaining upon her knees, when most of the congregation had retired. Thinking the child had fallen asleep, he touched her and told her it was time to return home. To his surprise he found that she was engaged in prayer, and he said: "All things whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive." She looked up at the pastor earnestly, and inquired: "Is that so? Does G.o.d say that?"
[Ill.u.s.tration]
He took up a Bible and read the pa.s.sage aloud. She immediately began praying: "Lord, send my father here; Lord, send my father to the chapel."
Thus she continued for about half an hour, attracting by her earnest cry the attentions of persons who had lingered about the door. At last a man rushed into the chapel, ran up the aisle and sank upon his knees by the side of his child, exclaiming: "What do you want of me?" She threw her arms about his neck, and began to pray: "Oh, Lord, convert my father!"
Soon the man"s heart was melted and he began to pray for himself. The child"s father was three miles from the chapel when she began praying for him. He was packing goods in a wagon and felt impressed with an irresistible impulse to return home. Driving rapidly to his house, he left the goods in his wagon and hastened to the chapel, where he found his daughter crying mightily to G.o.d in his behalf; and he was led there to the Savior.
--_Foster"s Encyclopedia_
THE DYING NEWS BOY
In a dark alley in the great city of New York, a small, ragged boy might be seen. He appeared to be about twelve years old, and had a careworn expression on his countenance. The cold air seemed to have no pity as it pierced through his ragged clothes, and made the flesh beneath blue and almost frozen.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "I am dying now, because I feel so queer; and I can hardly see you. I can kinder see the angels holding out their hands for me to come to that beautiful place they call heaven."]
This poor boy had once a happy home. His parents died a year before, and left him without money or friends. He was compelled to face the cold, cruel world with but a few cents in his pocket. He tried to earn his living by selling newspapers and other such things. This day everything seemed to go against him, and in despair he threw himself down in the dark alley, with his papers by his side. A few boys gathered around the poor lad, and asked in a kind way (for a street Arab): "Say, Johnny, why don"t you go to the lodges?" (The lodge was a place where almost all the boys stayed at night, costing but a few cents.) But the poor little lad could only murmur that he could not stir, and called the boys about him, saying: "I am dying now, because I feel so queer: and I can hardly see you. Gather around me closer boys. I cannot talk so loud. I can kinder see the angels holding out their hands for me to come to that beautiful place called heaven. Goodbye, boys. I am to meet father and mother."
And, with these last words on his lips, the poor lad died.
Next morning the pa.s.sers-by saw a sight that would soften the most hardened heart. There, lying on the cold stone, with his head against the hard wall, and his eyes staring upward, was the poor little frozen newsboy. He was taken to the chapel near by, and was interred by kind hands. And those who performed this act will never forget the poor forsaken lad.
--_Golden Dawn_
NEW SHOES
"I wonder if there can be a pair of shoes in it!"
Little Tim sat on the ground close beside a very ugly dark-colored stone jug. He eyed it sharply, but finding it quite impossible to see through its sides, pulled out the cork and peered anxiously in. "Can"t see nothin", but it"s so dark in there I couldn"t see if there was anything.
I"ve a great mind to break the hateful old thing."
He sat for awhile thinking how badly he wanted a pair of shoes to wear to the Sunday School picnic. His mother had promised to wash and mend his clothes, so that he might go looking very neat indeed; but the old shoes were far past all mending and how could he go barefoot?
Then he began counting the chances of his father being very angry when he should find his jug broken. He did not like the idea of getting a whipping for it, as was very likely, but how could he resist the temptation of making sure about those shoes? The more he thought of them, the more he couldn"t. He sprang up and hunted around until he found a good size brick-bat, which he flung with such vigorous hand and correct aim that the next moment the old jug lay in pieces before his eyes.
How eagerly he bent over them in the hope of finding not only what he was so longing for but, perhaps, other treasure! But his poor little heart sank as he turned over the fragments with trembling fingers. Nothing could be found among the broken bits, wet on the inside with a bad-smelling liquid.
Tim sat down again and sobbed as he had never sobbed before; so hard that he did not hear a step beside him until a voice said:
"Well, what"s all this?"
He sprang up in great alarm. It was his father, who always slept late in the morning, and was very seldom awake so early as this.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
"Who broke my jug?" he asked. "I did," said Tim, catching his breath half in terror and half between his sobs.
"Why did you?" Tim looked up. The voice did not sound quite so terrible as he had expected. The truth was his father had been touched at sight of the forlorn figure, so very small and so sorrowful, which had bent over the broken jug.
"Why," he said, "I was looking for a pair of new shoes. I want a pair of shoes awful bad to wear at the picnic. All the other chaps wear shoes."
"How came you to think you"d find shoes in a jug?"
"Why Mama said so. I asked her for some new shoes and she said they had gone into the black jug, and that lots of other things had gone into it, too--coats and hats, and bread and meat and things--and I thought if I broke it I"d find them all, and there ain"t a thing in it--and Mama never said what wasn"t so before--and I thought "twould be so--sure."
And Tim, hardly able to sob out the words, feeling how keenly his trust in mother"s word had added to his great disappointment, sat down again, and cried harder than ever.