NOT very many years ago there Jived a dear, bright little pet of a child, named Mary. She was the youngest of a large family, and, being of a peculiarly sweet, loving disposition, was of course much beloved by all. Her father looked forward with pleasure to the evening, when, laying aside the business of the day, he should enjoy a romping game of play with his little girl, or, as she sat perched on his knee, he should listen with amusement to her funny talk.
Her brothers and sisters, too, even the grown-up ones, found a special attraction in home when little Mary was there. But to her loving mother, often unable to leave her sofa through long illness, the child was doubly dear; for, tiny and young as she was, being then only about three years of age, Mary would show in a hundred little ways her love for her mother, and her great sympathy with her in her sufferings.
But, notwithstanding all this natural sweetness of disposition, this little child had just as bad a heart as any boy or girl who may read this story; and this bad heart of hers showed itself sometimes in passionate fits of temper, or an inclination to disobey. Of course, at such times her kind and wise parents were obliged to tell her how wrong such conduct was, and how displeasing to God, and would tell her of the loving Lord Jesus Who came down to dwell upon this very earth of ours, and died to save even naughty little children, as well as their fathers and mothers.
As time rolled on, however, it could not but be noticed that these fits of naughtiness were not nearly so frequent. Once her dear mother, having gathered around her the four youngest children, was reading the sad yet beautiful chapters which tell how our blessed Lord “was taken, and by wicked hands was crucified and slain.”
She read, slowly and with deep feeling, the words, “there they crucified Him, “adding, by way of making it more simple, “that is, killed Him—hung Him on a cross to die.”
In the hush that followed, a little choking voice sobbed out, "Oh, what a pity!" It was little Mary's; she was sitting so still on a hassock at her mother's feet, that she had been forgotten—but she had been drinking in every word. She rose up, and, with great tears in her blue eyes, repeated, still more earnestly, “Oh, mamma, what a pity!”
Not long after this, she was standing by the window, with her arm fondly entwined around an elder sister, and, after looking very fixedly up into the beautiful sky, across which many white clouds were passing, she suddenly said, "Me know that dear Father up in the sky, and, oh, me do love Him so!" squeezing her little hands tightly together, as if to give still greater force to her words; adding, " And when Mary goes to sleep for a long, long time, Mary will go up there, too.”
For a moment her sister could not make any reply. So certain was she in her own mind that, as God Himself called Samuel when a little boy, so had He made known to the heart of her little sister His great love to her, and had drawn this little lamb to love and trust the Good Shepherd.
Soon, ah, how soon, the other call was given!—a call from earth, and from all the loving embraces of those who would fain have kept her with them had it been the Lord's will, but a call to a home of the brightness of which we cannot even dream: we only know that our Saviour, the blessed Lord Jesus Himself, is there, and that is quite sufficient for all who love Him.
One day, before little Mary had reached her fourth birthday, a regiment of soldiers passed along the road in front of the house, their band playing lively music. This, a great attraction to most little ones, caused Mary, with her usual quickness of movement, to spring upon a rather high window seat to see all that was going on. Forgetting, in her excitement, to be careful, and unnoticed by others, she stepped backwards too near the edge, and fell suddenly with great violence to the ground, receiving on the back of her head the whole force of the blow.
Severe illness followed. At times the dear child lay in unconsciousness and blindness, but during the intervals between these sad attacks she only showed signs of peaceful content and quiet joy, while now and then an expression of perfectly rapturous delight overspread her face, as if, indeed, she saw more than mortal tongue could express.
Once her dear mother, bending over her, just to prove if she were able to understand what was said to her, whispered softly, "My darling, the dear Lord Jesus is going to take you away from mamma, and from everybody here, to live with Him in heaven. Would you like to go, or would you rather stay with mamma?”
When she had put the question in the words here given, Mary's mother remembered how often when asked to go anywhere little Mary had clung fondly to her, and had answered in baby language, "No, tank you, me be near my dear mamma," and she wished she had not said what she had. She wondered if her dear child would reply, "Me be near my dear mamma.”
But no. The words came, clearly and earnestly, "Me would like to go"; and soon after the Lord Jesus took her to His own tender bosom.
“Asleep in Christ." "Forever with the Lord." Such thoughts alone could check the blinding tears of those who looked for the last time on earth on that precious little form. They thought, too, of the words, "Them that have been put to sleep by Jesus will God bring with Him," for well they knew that when the Lord Jesus comes all His saints who are on earth will meet in the air all whom He has put to sleep, and then our dear little Mary will certainly come with Jesus.
Dear little girls and boys, the hand which now writes this story fondly stroked little Mary's curls, and the eyes which now see this paper often looked with pleasure into the merry laughing ones of little Mary. Yet she would be sober and grave enough when singing, as she delighted to do, her favorite hymn, "Forever with the Lord," and also another which spoke of Mary sitting at the Saviour's feet, listening to His every word.
Let me very lovingly ask each one of you, How is it with you? Are you prepared to die if a sudden slip of the foot should be allowed of God to call you away from earth? Would you feel sure, as this baby-child did, that if you died you should “go up there "to be with One whom you "knew" and "loved, oh so much"?
God grant that, washed from your sins in the precious blood of Christ, you may be ready either for death or for the coming of our Lord, for whom we wait!
Never forget that the Lord Jesus has kindly said, "Suffer the children, and forbid them not to come unto Me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven.”
So whatever your age may be, you are not too young or too old now to come. E. G.