A COUNTRY minister once called at a cottage by the roadside and asked the lady that answered the door if she could read. He wished to lend her a little book called “Christ the only refuge.”
“No sir,” she replied, “I cannot read; but I have a little boy, nine years old, who can read. However, he is sick in bed.”
“Well, give him this little book, and ask him to read it. I will call for it another time.”
When he called again the mother burst into tears. “Sir, my boy is dead,” she said, “and has left you this penny.”
“And did he read the little book?”
“Sir, he read it till he could repeat the whole of it. He talked of nothing else till he died. And to the last he begged that I would not give you back the book when you called; but to thank you and give you this penny for it.
“And he begged that I would learn to read that little book. Just before he died he cried out, “Mother, Christ is my only refuge! Christ is my only refuge! Do not part with the book; it will do for my father.”
ML-06/09/1974