We missed little Maggie from her usual seat in our Sunday school, and wondered what had become of her. The kind superintendent asked me to go and see the child; and fearing she was ill, he added,
“Take her this bottle of jelly, with my love.”
Maggie’s home was a dark little cellar, under a small grocery store. The daylight found its way into the cellar indeed, but never did the sun’s bright rays peep and play between the iron bars of poor Maggie’s window.
I found the little girl lying upon a heap of dirty rags—the only bed in the room; and upon seeing me, she raised herself, and looking towards her mother, exclaimed,
“That’s one of the teachers of the school, what talks to us and tells us about Jesus.”
“Maggie, dear,” said I, “Mr. James sent me to see you, and gives you this nice jelly, with his love.”
“O! ain’t he kind, mother?” cried the child, looking very delighted.
“And why is he kind to you?”
“’Cause, perhaps, I am very ill,” said Maggie.
“That is one reason, dear, but not the first. He is kind to you, because he loves the Lord Jesus. Mr. James looks over the names of the children in his school, like a shepherd looking upon his flock, and he wants them all to be the lambs of the Good Shepherd. Now, Maggie, tell me the truth, do you indeed love the Lord Jesus?”
“Yes, I do love Jesus,” she said.
“But why? You have never seen Him. How can you love one you have never seen?”
“In the Bible it says, Jesus loved me and died for me, long, long ago, before I was born.” Then looking round upon her mother, she said, “Mother, Jesus died on the cross for me.”
Before leaving I sang that pretty hymn—
“Jesus loves me! this I know,
For the Bible tells me so;
Little ones to Him belong,
They are weak, but He is strong.
Jesus loves me! loves me still,
Though I’m very weak and ill;
From His shining throne on high
Comes to watch me where I lie.”
I then knelt down and commended the sick child to God’s care. Poor little Maggie was suffering from a sad pain, brought on from running about in the wet, barefooted and very thinly clothed.
My next visit found little Maggie much better, and, notwithstanding all the wretched surroundings of her poor home, looking quite bright and cheerful.
Her mother said the child was always praying or singing hymns, and, indeed, the love of Christ in poor little Maie’s heart was a brighter sunbeam in the dark, dirty cellar than those which lighten up the grandest rooms of most beautiful homes of those who do not know Him as their Lord and Saviour.
ML 04/30/1944