I met a shepherd with a lamb upon his shoulders. The little creature had strayed away, and the shepherd had found it. The lamb being upon his shoulders was quite safe. But the shepherd was carrying the lamb somewhere, and that was to the fold. No shepherd would simply save a lamb from perishing in the cold; he would bring the strayed one home.
Some time ago a little boy of about four years of age strayed away from a Sunday-school party, which had gone for the school treat to the downs. It was not until the evening, when the children were mustered for returning home, that little Willie was missed. Great was the anxiety of all when it was discovered that the child was lost. One teacher rain in one direction, and one in another; the elder boys, too, hunted and shouted around every thicket, and up and down the hills, but Willie could not be found.
The school children returned home, and a few of the teachers remained behind to search and call for Willie.
It was not until nearly midnight that it was discovered where Willie was. He had wandered along a road all by himself till he had quite lost sight of the school children. Still on, on he trudged. At length a policeman, who happened to be pacing along the lonely country road, met him, and as Willie was too young to explain who he was and how he had become lost, the policeman took him to a large house, standing by itself, and there Willie received some supper, and was put to bed.
The teachers were thankful indeed when they knew where Willie was, and they telegraphed to his parents the joyful news "Willie is safe!" But do you think that Willie's father and mother were contented to know that their little boy was safe No: they could not rest until their brown-eyed boy was brought home.
Now Jesus, by His blood shed for lost sinners, brings them to God.
Let us learn some texts of scripture upon this truth.
Again, in the fifteenth chapter of the gospel by Luke, we read of the lost sheep not only being found, but taken home by the shepherd, and of the prodigal being not only forgiven, but taken into his father's house.
The following story will, we are sure, help you to understand the wonderful parable of our Lord about the lost son, who was brought home to his father, and then you will learn the meaning of these words—brought to God:-
HOW BERTIE WAS BROUGHT HOME.
IN a large town in the south of England, about sixty-five years ago, there lived a rich gentleman. He had three little girls, and one little boy, who is the "Bertie" of our tale; and let me say that the writer of this true story was closely related to the little boy.
Bertie was a lovable boy, and, as time passed on, he became more and more the pride and delight of his parents. One day, when he was about three years old, he managed to slip out of the nursery and downstairs without being observed; coming to the hall, he saw that the front door had been left open, so he thought it a good opportunity to take a peep at the outer world, and stepped out into the porch.
Now, apart from his intrinsic worth, little Bertie was a valuable piece of property as he stood that afternoon at the front door. His clothes were made of expensive material; from his waist hung a beautiful coral with silver bells; his sleeves were looped up with corals, fastened with massive gold clasps; and a costly necklace encircled his little white neck.
All this was observed by a tall, dark woman who was passing at the moment. She stopped, spoke kindly and softly to him, and taking from her pocket a sugar-stick, she held it towards him.
Not in the least shy, little Bertie hastened to her to receive the prize; as he advanced, she slowly retreated till she had enticed the child some little distance from his home; then taking him in her arms she gave him the sugar-stick, promising him more when he had eaten it. She wrapped her shawl round him to conceal his clothes from any passer-by, and talked to him pleasantly while she bore him rapidly toward the lowest part of the town.
Soon Bertie became frightened, and asked to be taken home, but the woman being no longer afraid of his cries, spoke sternly to him, which only increased his terror. At length a narrow, dirty street was reached, down which the woman hurried, and entering a gloomy house, she bore the poor little lost one up a narrow, dark staircase, and into a miserable room at the top of the house.
Poor little Bertie! his sobs and screams gave no pity to the wicked woman. She hastened to take off all his handsome clothes, and, while doing so, gave him many cruel blows because he cried. A few squalid rags were put on him, and soon, worn out with crying, poor lost Bertie fell asleep on the hard, dirty floor.
At first Bertie's absence from the nursery was not noticed, but at length nurse thought she would go in search of him. Great was her alarm when she found that no one had seen him. Soon everyone in the house was searching for Bertie all over the house and garden, but, as we know, he could not be found. Someone now recollected seeing the hall door open about the time Bertie must have left the nursery; so they were obliged to conclude he had strayed into the streets.
You may imagine the terrible distress of the parents. The mother could not be persuaded to remain at home. She must join in the search for her child. Long she wandered about, but could discover no trace of the little lost one, till at length her steps were guided to the very street into which poor Bertie had been carried some hours before. At any other time she would have trembled to find herself alone in such a neighborhood, and have shrunk from the wretchedness and squalor to be seen there; but now she never thought of herself. As she hastened down the street, she heard a sound proceeding from one of the houses which caused her heart to bound; it was a child's cry, and well she knew the voice.
She pushed open the door of the house whence the sound came, rushed up the dirty stairs, and did not pause till she was in the room where poor little Bertie stood bitterly crying.
The woman who had stolen him was evidently ready for a tramp. She had a bundle in one hand, and with the other she grasped Bertie's hand. The child was clothed in squalid rags; his little face all tear-stained and dirty; but the mother did not care for that, she had found her child, and in a moment he was sobbing in her arms.
Before the gipsy could recover from her astonishment, and without waiting to say a word, Mrs. Lester, folding her darling to her bosom, hastened down the stairs and into the street. She hardly felt his weight, so light and joyful was her heart. She cared not for his dirt and rags; it was enough that she had found him, that his little arms were clasping her neck. His tears soon ceased, and only a deep-drawn sigh now and then told of the trouble he had lately been in.
Home was reached at last. The joyful but exhausted mother bore her little one in and gave him into the arms of his father, who had just returned from his unsuccessful search. Oh, how delighted he was to welcome back his lost boy! The little sisters, who had been crying bitterly for their brother, rushed in to rejoice over and fondle him. Nurse, and indeed all the household, were filled with joy. Of course little Bertie was soon well bathed by his loving mother, and fresh, clean clothes replaced the gipsy's rags. Soon he was sweetly sleeping in his own cot, placed close beside his mother's bed.
Happy little Bertie! He was now found safe in his father's house.
I want you to notice several things in this story, for it is a picture of a great many people in the world, both young and old.
Like the gipsy, Satan goes about seeking whom he can entice into the paths of sin. Like her, he has baits wherewith to tempt them, something to suit every eye and disposition, and while eagerly pursuing the coveted "sugar-stick," the victim is led farther and farther into the paths of sin, till Satan gets him securely in his grasp; the pleasure so eagerly pursued fades into nothing, and the poor stray one finds he is lost! Happy if he discovers this before it is too late.
What did little Bertie do when he knew he was lost, far away from his home? Poor child, he could do nothing; he could not get out of that dreadful room; he was far too small and too weak to overcome his terrible captor. All he could do was to cry.
Just so with the poor lost sinner whom Satan has bound hand and foot: he can do nothing to save himself.
The great love Bertie's mother bore him led her to leave her home and seek for him in that low and dirty neighborhood; her anxious ear heard his cry, and she hastened to the very place where he was.
Just so Jesus, the Son of God, left His bright throne above to come down to this earth to seek and save lost sinners.
"'Twas love unbounded, love to us
Led Him to die and suffer thus."
And now He is able and willing to save every lost one who cries to Him for mercy. " His ear is ever open to their cry."
Poor Bertie was a very wretched-looking little object-ragged, dirty, and tear-stained; but his mother did not say, " Bertie, go and wash yourself, and put on your handsome clothes, then I will take you home." No, indeed, her love was far too great for that; she forgot all about his clothes, and, catching him to her breast, she kissed him again and again, just as he was. How like the beautiful story of "The Prodigal Son!" His father ran to meet him, fell on his neck, and kissed him just as he was.
Bertie was carried home in his mother's arms. Would she let him fall, do you think? Would she let the gipsy get him again? No, indeed, she would defend him with her life, if need be!
Did Bertie's safety depend on himself in any way?
No; he just lay in his mother's arms, and she bore him home.
Then did he do nothing-nothing to save himself?
Yet he did what was very sweet to his mother's heart. He kept his arms tight round her neck, and now and then raised his head to give her a loving kiss.
Even thus it should be with those who have been rescued from the power of Satan, and are being safely and tenderly carried home. We can do nothing in the work of salvation-
" Jesus did it, did it all,
Long, long ago."
But we can cling lovingly and trustfully to the precious Savior, and so give joy to His heart.
Though Bertie had been saved in his dirt and rags, he must not remain in them. He is a gentleman's son, and must dress accordingly; he must be washed and clothed in garments of his parents' providing. Here, too, he is like the Prodigal Son. "Bring forth the best robe," the father said; shoes on his feet and a ring on his hand." In another part of God's word, too, where we hear of a "brand" being "plucked from the burning," it was said, "Take away the filthy garments from him;" he was clothed with a change of garments, "and a fair miter set upon his head"—cleansed, clothed, and crowned. (Zech. 3:2-52And the Lord said unto Satan, The Lord rebuke thee, O Satan; even the Lord that hath chosen Jerusalem rebuke thee: is not this a brand plucked out of the fire? 3Now Joshua was clothed with filthy garments, and stood before the angel. 4And he answered and spake unto those that stood before him, saying, Take away the filthy garments from him. And unto him he said, Behold, I have caused thine iniquity to pass from thee, and I will clothe thee with change of raiment. 5And I said, Let them set a fair mitre upon his head. So they set a fair mitre upon his head, and clothed him with garments. And the angel of the Lord stood by. (Zechariah 3:2‑5).) " The blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanseth us from all sin." In Christ the vilest sinner is made meet for the presence of God.
Dear boys and girls, are you brought home to God? Have you been cleansed from your sins? If not, you are in a far worse state than little Bertie was. You may not know it any more than he did while he was sucking his "sugar-stick" in the gipsy's arms, and believing her promises of greater treats in store.
You are perhaps so occupied with the things Satan is using to attract your attention that you know not you are straying farther and farther into the path which leads to hell; another step may plunge you into everlasting woe. God's ear is ever open to the feeblest cry; but do not delay, tomorrow may be too late.
M. M. B.
RECEIVED HOME
In the distant land of famine,
Longing with the swine to feed,
Oh, how bitter that awakening
To my sin and shame and need.
Dark and dreary all around me,
Now no more by sin beguiled,
I would go and seek my Father:
Be a bondsman, not a child.
Yet a great way off He saw me,
Ran to kiss me as I came;
As I was, my Father loved me,
Loved me in my sin and shame.
Then in bitter grief I told Him
Of the evil I had done:
Sinned in scorn of Him, my Father,
Was not meet to be His son.
But I knew not if He listened,
For He spake not of my sin;
He within His house would have me-
Make me meet to enter in;
From the riches of His glory
Brought His costliest raiment forth,
Brought the ring that sealed His purpose,
Shoes to tread His golden court.
Put them on me—robes of glory,
Spotless as the heavens above;
Not to meet my thoughts of fitness,
But His wondrous thoughts of love.
Then within His home He led me,
Brought me where the feast was spread,
Made me eat with Him, my Father,
I who begged for bondsman's bread.
This, the ransomed sinner's story,
All the Father's heart made known:
All His grace to me, the sinner,
Told by judgment on His Son-
Told by Him from depts. Of anguish,
All the Father's love for me:
By the curse, the cross, the darkness,
Measuring what that love must be.