MAY! I'm off for a row, are you coming? it's a grand sea to-day, I can tell you.”
“Oh! thank you, Bertie I should like it so much. I'll get my hat.”
Bertie had hardly spoken to May since Sunday evening, and she, poor child, had been feeling most uncomfortable ever since, thinking she must have offended him, and wondering what was the cause. Of all her cousins she liked him best: he had been very kind to her the first day, and had tried to make her feel at home. She was very pleased now to find that he had quite regained his good humour; they chatted pleasantly together as they made their way to the river.
“Can you row, May?" he asked, as they took their places in the boat. "No? then I'll teach you. I expect you'll be a first-rate hand at it.”
May was delighted, she had seldom been on the water before, and had never held an oar. It was a beautiful morning, with just enough wind to make a swell on the river, causing the boat to rise and fall pleasantly.
“Shall we go towards the sea, Bertie? It looks rougher there; I should like the boat to be tossed about more.”
“All right," said Bertie; "but don't lean so far over, you'll topple in.”
The water got rougher and rougher as they approached the mouth of the river. But May declared she liked it, and when they reached the sea, and the big waves rolled in upon them, lifting the little boat, and then letting it down, she begged Bertie not to go back yet, it was ever so much nicer than the quiet river.
“I think it is time we turned now," said Bertie at last. "I am glad you like it, May, you must come often with me.”
It was with great difficulty Bertie succeeded in turning the boat round, wind and tide were both against him now.
"I wish I had not come so far," he muttered, as he pulled away with all his strength. A quarter of an hour passed in silence; for Bertie was working very hard at his oars, and did not seem inclined to talk. May sat quietly watching his flushed, anxious face: something must be wrong, she thought.
"I may as well give up," he exclaimed at last, looking over his shoulder at the distant shore; "I have not gained an inch with all my pulling, in fact, we are drifting as fast as we can to sea; it's no use rowing," he continued, shipping his oars; "it's all up with us, May, unless a fishing vessel comes along, and takes us up.”
All day the children kept an anxious look out, but no sail appeared on the horizon. At last the sun sank, and there was no longer any hope of being seen in the fast gathering twilight. The evening was chilly, and Bertie, notwithstanding May's protestations that she was not very cold, had insisted on wrapping her up in his coat.
“I think there is very little hope of our being picked up," he said, breaking a long silence; "there is nothing before us but starvation. Oh, May, if I were only saved like you!”
“But you can be, Bertie, if you will believe on Jesus; He will wash your sins away and give you the robe of righteousness.),
“It's no good, May! He would not have me now.”
“Oh, yes, He would! He says to every one, ‘Come unto me.'”
“Look here, May," said Bertie vehemently, "it's no good asking Jesus to forgive you, if you mean all the time to do something He would not like, is it?”
“No, of course not.”
“Well, those two books of yours on Sunday made me want to have my sins forgiven, and to be safe in the fold. But I could not make up my mind to give up some wrong things, so I as good as told Jesus I would not have Him.”
“What wrong things, Bertie?”
“Corning on the sea, was one thing," answered Bertie; "Father only allows us to row on the river by ourselves: it's all my fault that we are like this now. You cannot think how I feel.”
“Poor Bertie," said May compassionately.
“So you see, May, there's no hope for me.”
“Oh, yes, there is, Bertie. For the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. Accept His forgiveness now.”
“He will refuse me. I deserve that He should. I refused Him the other night.”
"Oh, no, Bertie. ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.' He means your sins, too, Bertie.”
For a long time neither spoke, the boy's face was hidden in his hands, and May sat silently looking up to the starlit sky, saying over and over from the bottom of her heart, "Lord Jesus, help Bertie to come to Thee." Without knowing it, May had commenced saying the words aloud, when Bertie, who was kneeling at the bottom of the boat, drew her down beside him.
“You need not pray that any more, May," he said; "God has heard your prayer and has helped me to come to Him, and shewn me He is willing to save even me.”
“Oh, Bertie, I am so glad.”
There was silence for a few minutes while the children knelt side by side their hearts full of gratitude and joy. Presently May said, “Shall I say some verses of a hymn to you? they are so beautiful, whenever I say them they make me feel so safe.
"'Now we are free—there's no condemnation,
Jesus provides a perfect salvation.
‘Come unto me'—oh! hear His sweet call,
Come, and He saves us ‘once for all.'
‘Children of God'—oh! glorious calling,
Surely His grace will keep us from falling,
Passing from death unto life at His call,
Blessed salvation 'once for all!’”
“Isn't that nice, Bertie?”
It was now getting late, and May, at Bertie's desire, lay down at the bottom of the boat, and was soon fast asleep, while he sat hour after hour keeping watch. At last the morning came, and with it deliverance, for far away on the horizon Bertie could just make out white sail.
"Saved, saved!" he cried. "Wake up, May, there's a ship in sight.”
“Oh! Bertie," exclaimed May, as she sprang up, rubbing her eyes; "do you think they will see us? she does not seem coming this way.”
“I'll hoist a signal of distress, if you'll lend me your scarf and handkerchief.”
Bertie proceeded to lash the two oars together, and fastening his coat on one end, he raised it, waving it from side to side.
“I think they'll see that, May.”
He was right, the ship at once altered her course, and made straight for them; and before long they were safe on board. The captain was most kind, and, on hearing their story, told them it would not be much out of his way to take them to the mouth of the river.
“Oh thank you, Captain," said Bertie heartily; "they'll be very cut up about us at home, so the sooner we get back and show ourselves the better.”
“Bertie," said May, when, after thanking their kind preserver for all his care and attention, they were again in their little boat, "how good God has been t bring us safely back.”
“Yes, indeed, May," was all Bertie answered; but he there and then resolved to give up the life which God had so graciously spared to His service.
And now they are at home again, and there is a perfect hubbub of welcome, and a battery of questions hurled against them on all sides, and Bertie's hasty confession of a long course of disobedience is cut short by his father, with "Never mind, my boy, let bygones be bygones. I have nothing but welcome for you now.”
“May," said Bertie, one day, as they sauntered up and down the shrubbery path, "I should like to do something for Jesus—something, you know, to bring others to Him; but I don't know what I can do.”
May pondered a little.
“Could not you, Bertie, have some children's services on the sand? In the supplement of our magazine it tells about them. They have them at lots of sea-side places.”
“What are they like?”
“Oh! so nice. A gentleman preaches to the children, and they make a place with seats to sit in, and have singing, and sometimes form texts on the sand with pebbles and sea-weed.”
“What kind of a place do they make?”
“It's rows of seats, thrown up of sand. The children make it before the service begins.”
“I'll try it, May," said Bertie, after a turn or two in silence; "there are not many children amongst the visitors, but I dare say there are a dozen or so. I can read some of your little books, you know.”
“Oh, Bertie! I am so glad, When will you begin?”
“To-morrow, I should think, if it's fine.”
Early next morning Bertie and May, accompanied by Mattie and the little girls, started for the sands, carrying buckets and spades. On arriving there, they began in earnest the work of building the seats. They were soon joined by several willing little workers; and from time to time others came up to help them. It did not take long to make sufficient sitting room and to spare for the whole number; and then, when a strong wall was thrown up round, it was pronounced quite finished. As the little people took their seats, Bertie whispered to May, "We had better begin with a hymn, I think; what shall we have?”
May suggested "Rock of Ages," and Mattie led it off in a sweet, clear voice, all the children joining in heartily.
After a short prayer, Bertie commenced what Mattie afterwards insisted on calling "his first sermon." He had chosen the "Parable of the unmerciful servant" (Matt. 18:2323Therefore is the kingdom of heaven likened unto a certain king, which would take account of his servants. (Matthew 18:23)) which he first read through. If my little readers will look at Matt. 18:33And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:3), they will see that the parable ends with the following verse, "So likewise shall my heavenly Father do unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses.”
He then read from the little book
“We have our Saviour's explanation of this parable in Matt. 18:3535So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses. (Matthew 18:35). He tells us that if we are unforgiving, our heavenly Father will not forgive us. But there is something to learn from the beginning of the parable. The servant owed his lord more than a million pounds of our money, a sum impossible for him to pay. What does this remind us of? Should it not make us think of the vast debt which every one of us owes to God? Every sin we have committed has added to the account against us, it grows larger every day.
“If we look back at all the years we have lived, and think of what we have left undone, as well as what we have done wrong—when we think of our wrong thoughts, as well as our unkind words, to say nothing of the many sins which we have forgotten—we must all say that we owe a debt to God which we can never pay.
“Well, this servant's debt was forgiven him, he had only to ask for mercy, and his lord frankly forgave him his debt. And God is ready to forgive us if we confess our sins. He says in Isa. 44:2222I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins: return unto me; for I have redeemed thee. (Isaiah 44:22), ‘I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins: return unto me; for I have redeemed thee.'
“What does 'redeem' mean? To buy back again. Jesus has a right to you, because He made you; but as you are a sinner He died to redeem you. He gave His life as the price.
“How much He must love you! Why did He redeem you? what does He want to do with you? He wants to blot out your transgressions, and He wants you to come to Him. Besides redeeming us, buying us back, Jesus has given us everlasting life. He had to pay a great deal for this. What was the price? His precious blood. (1 Peter 1:1919But with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot: (1 Peter 1:19).) He was paying our debt so as to give us everlasting life when He hung on the cross, suffering such dreadful pain. And then He bowed His head, and said, It is finished.'
“But what a price!
“Dear friends, do not your hearts fill with gratitude when you think of all He gave in order to redeem us? If you have never thought much of your sins before, do you not feel sorry for them now, when you think what Jesus bore on account of sin on the dreadful cross, and that your sins helped to nail Him there? Have you thanked Him, or do you live, day after day, without thanking Him, without thinking about Him, without loving Him? If you have believed in Jesus, and accepted Him as your Saviour, then you have this precious gift. If you have not believed in Jesus, then, instead of having everlasting life, you are 'condemned already.' But thanks be to God, the gift is still waiting for you. If you will accept it, everlasting life will be yours.”
There was another hymn sung, and then Bertie's little service was over.
At May's suggestion, he asked the children to collect some shells, pebbles, and sea-weed, for making a text on the sand.
At three o'clock they were to meet again on the sands.
“What text shall we have, May?" asked Bertie.
“Shall we have 'God be merciful to me a sinner'? said May, "and then you could read afterwards the parable of 'The Pharisee and Publican.’”
“All right, then, we'll settle on that.”
Even Charlie and Ted, who had refused to come in the morning, appeared at three o'clock, and took great interest in the text making. There were about twenty children in all, so there was a letter for each, and some over to be taken by those who finished first. There was great variety in the materials collected, and the letters were shaped according to the fancy of the little workers, some were ornamented with green sea-weed, and some with red; but each child displayed their taste, and the text when finished was pronounced "just beautiful." And now came Bertie's part again, and there was a general rush towards the sand seats. Charlie and Ted took their places among the rest, they could not miss the fun, they said, of hearing Bertie preach.
“These two men who went up to the temple to pray were as different as they could be one from the other. The Pharisee had always lived what people would call a good life, and he thanks God he is better than other men. He does not pray to God, but he tells God how good he is, and seems to want nothing from God. He trusts in his own righteousness, so he has not the righteousness of God. At the last day, do you think his own righteousness will look pure and white? No, it will be only the righteousness of God that will be any good then. This man did not ask God to forgive him, he did not confess his sins, so he went home unforgiven. How different from the publican: he knew he had no goodness of his own; but he believed that God could give him what he had not. He believed God would hear his prayer, and God did hear him. It was a very short prayer, only seven words; but it went up from his heart, and brought down an answer from God. He went down to his house justified; that means, that God looked upon him as if he was quite just and good, and would treat him as if he were righteous, because he repented and believed. (Acts 13:3939And by him all that believe are justified from all things, from which ye could not be justified by the law of Moses. (Acts 13:39).)
“If God answered that publican's prayer, don't you think that if you prayed the same words, God would answer you?
“Won’t you try it? You would like to be justified, you would like to know your sins were forgiven, and that God counted you as righteous, would you not? God is just as ready to answer you as He was that publican, only you must come as a sinner. If you do not know that you are a sinner it is because Satan hath blinded your eyes. (2 Cor. 4:44In whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them. (2 Corinthians 4:4).) Will you not ask God to open your eyes, and turn you from darkness to light?”
“This is all your doing, Miss May," said Charlie, as he walked beside her on their way home. "Just fancy a little mite like you coming here and making all these doings, and turning Bertie into a parson. What do you think of yourself?”
“It was Bertie who arranged it all," answered May; "I only told him of the children's services I had read of.”
“Oh! all very well, but I know you are at the bottom of it; but you are a brave girl, for all that; I wish Mattie was half as jolly as you are.”