Part. 4 Monkeys
It is always fun watching monkeys. Their queer little faces and hands look so like those of a person, and they play such funny tricks. When I was very little—about four years old—a man with a hand-organ came to our house. On the hand-organ was sitting such a darling little monkey, dressed in a red coat and green trousers, and a little cap, with which he went round collecting cents. He was such a charming little fellow, that for a long time after that I used to wish I was a monkey. I thought it would be so nice to have a tail like that monkey, by which I could swing! But what is there which I had, and the monkey did not have? He had hands, and a face quite like a child’s, and he wore clothes; he could chatter, too, in monkey-talk, as fast as I could in English. But I am sure you have all said what the difference is. Yes, I had a soul. When God made the world, He spoke and all the different animals were formed, but God made man in His own image, out of the dust of the ground, and then breathed into him the breath of life. So each one of you, dear children, have received your life from God. He made you to live in this pretty world, and gave you kind friends to look after you. Did you ever use that wonderful soul God has given you to thank Him for making you a child, instead of a little animal?
The little monkeys come from the same place as the great big elephant, from India. You remember that last week I told you about an elephant that lived in a temple. Well, now I am going to tell you another surprising thing. Do you know that there are people in India, who worship monkeys! Yes, really! and in one place, there is a great temple where little spoilt chattering monkeys run about just as they like, and grown-up men and women bow down to them just as we do to our Father in heaven. You would not think that they could be so foolish, but don’t laugh at them. There is something in their poor, dark hearts that makes them want to put their hands together and say prayers, and nobody has told them about God, or Jesus or heaven, so what can they do? But the saddest part is that they take more care of the monkeys than of the children. They hire men to feed and care for the silly little monkeys, and those same people, if they think they have too many children, take the dear little babies, and drop them in the river, or leave them for wild beasts to eat. But I am glad to say that is not clone very often now, for India belongs to England, and the English do not allow it; if any babies are found, the missionaries take care of them, and bring them up.
But I want to tell you about the brown Indian people who love the Lord Jesus, and give you a peep at what God’s missionaries are doing there. Three pictures I am going to show you.
In the first picture, we are looking at a missionary school. Such a pretty little school! The walls are only built half-way up to the roof, so it is nice and cool inside, and we can look through and see the rows of small, brown scholars, sitting on the floor, with their books; we can see, too, the lady missionaries, who are teaching them. Outside the tall palm trees toss their long leaves, and now and then we catch sight of a monkey this is Monkey Land, you know—climbing over the roof. You would not sit still long with a monkey on your schoolroom window sill, would you? Once a missionary teacher was drilling some little girls outside her school, when she looked up, and saw a row of monkeys on the wall behind, trying with their wee, hairy arms to do just as she did! How she must have laughed! There are a great many of these missionary schools in India, and we ought to be so glad, for in them numbers of little children, whom Jesus dearly loves, are taught to know Him, and to receive Him as their Saviour, instead of worshiping monkeys or elephants.
Now let us look at picture number two. Here is another house, but not another school. We find rows of beds inside, for it is a missionary hospital. There are men and women and children in this nice place, all being taken care of, and often—so often —while the Christian doctors are trying to cure the poor sick bodies, Jesus softly touches the black sinful hearts, and makes them well, too.
Now the last picture, though there are ever so many more, I might show you. This time we see a street in India. It is crowded with brown people in their bright dresses and turbans. Most of them are hurrying along or looking at the shops, but a few are standing still, while a white man talks to them. Listen, what is he saying? He is saying that there is one God in heaven who made all the world. This God is perfectly good and holy, so that not one smallest speck of sin can be in His sight. He is very powerful, supporting the whole world by His strength. What shall we do, before such a great God? Nothing, we can do nothing, but God has done everything for us. He loves each one of us, and has said, “Him that cometh to Me, I will in no wise cast out.”
ML 05/28/1916