“You stole it! You’re a thief.” Frankie’s head bent low and he blushed with shame.
“Look, Jim, Frankie stole a hymook from Sunday school, and he’s taking it home to keep.”
Frankie looked at the bright red hymnbook in his hand and couldn’t answer. He knew very well he hadn’t stolen the book, but had just walked out the door without thinking, as many other boys and girls have done. He was just about home when he happened to notice the book in his hand, and just about the same time, the neighbor boy saw it too. What should he do? It was a long walk all the way back to the Sunday school. Perhaps he should go home and tell mother first.
“Mother, I came home from Sunday school with this hymnbook in my hand. I just forgot to give it to my teacher. What shall I do?”
“Well, Frankie, I know where your teacher lives. Suppose you take it to him tomorrow.”
“All right, Mother, I will.”
The next day, Frankie could be seen rather timidly knocking at Mr. Allen’s door with his red hymnbook held out in front of him. Presently the door opened.
“Please, Mr. Allen, I took this book hqme yesterday by mistake and I am very sorry.”
“Frankie boy, I’m so glad to see you; come on in, and sit down.”
The lad walked rather shyly into the living room, set his hymnbook on the table the very first thing and then sat down.
“I tell you what,” said Mr. Allen, “I would like you to keep that book as your very own. But you must earn it.”
“How shall I do that?”
“You must learn hymn number 124.”
After a little more friendly chatting, Frankie went home to his own room. “I must learn that hymn,” he said to himself. “For I would like that hymnbook for my own.”
Over and over he read these lovely words,
“Precious, precious blood of Jesus,
Shed on Calvary,
Shed for rebels, shed for sinners,
Shed for me.”
By Friday night’ he knew the whole hymn. But then something very wonderful happened. Each time he came to those words, “for me,” he stopped and a feeling of joy came over his young heart. For me! He knew he was a sinner, and now he knew Jesus died for him! He not only could say the hymn from memory, he could sing it from his very heart.
Sunday came around, and Frankie was asked to say the hymn, to see if he had earned his hymnbook. With a bright smile, he rose before all the class to say it — but — he just couldn’t help himself — he sang it instead! And when he came to those words “for me” he pointed very deliberately right to his own heart.
I have often joined in singing that hymn myself, and have heard many boys and girls sing it too. But can you do as Frankie did, and I am glad to say, as I can do too? Can you point right to your heart and say, “Shed for me”?
ML 03/25/1956