(For Believing Little Ones.)
AMONG the numerous recollections of this story of life, none are probably more vividly remembered than our school days. Those who taught us, our school-fellows, and especially those whom we chose for our intimate companions, are too deeply impressed on our memories to be easily forgotten. Indeed, in many instances, connections have been then formed which have endured through life.
When the writer entered the last school he attended, he made the acquaintance of W — B —. He was a delicate youth, and so quiet in his deportment and affable in his manners, that he was held up as a pattern to the whole of the school. But it was more particularly as a son that his conduct was remarkable. Deeply attached to his affectionate mother, and entirely obedient to her, his evening hours were invariably spent at home, nor could any of his school-fellows induce him to leave it. Some of them used to call him his mother’s pet, and tell him that he ought to be tied to her apron strings. But this, though intended to provoke him, would only draw forth a smile, with the remark, that he should not mind if he were. Indeed, he never seemed so happy as when he sat by her side, either reading and asking her questions, or in communicating the difficulties he had with his lessons and listening to the advice she was wont to give him. But, alas! his delicate constitution soon gave way, and after a lingering illness, to the inexpressible grief of his mother, he died at the early age of seventeen years.
Not long after his death, a tombstone was erected to his memory, and though the verse inscribed thereon might seem to strangers mere rhetoric, it graphically describes both parent and child. It is as follows: —
“Whoe’er thou art, to this sad shrine draw near.
Here lies a youth beloved, a son most dear;
Who ne’er knew joy but by his mother’s side;
Who never gave her grief but when he died.”
It would be well if all children were as nicely trained as W — B —; but the writer’s desire is to use the moral of the story for the benefit of those who are young in the faith. As the children of your “Father, which is in heaven,” you are called to the unspeakable blessedness of having fellowship with himself, and “God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts” that this fellowship may be enjoyed and maintained. To this end he directs “your hearts into the love of God;” and in proportion as you understand the wondrous truth that you are as near to God as Christ himself, loved as he is loved, and that such is his love for you and his delight in you, that he would have you walk in the light of his countenance, and rejoice in his name all the day, the pulse of divine love will beat strongly in your bosoms, your heavenly affections will deepen and expand, God will become to you an object of increasing delight, and communion with him your highest and sweetest privilege. Yes, it was the knowledge of the love wherewith he was loved that made “the affectionate and obedient child” delight to be alone with her to whom he was “a son most dear;” and as you appreciate the love that has made you “the sons of God,” and “dear children,” your hearts will be drawn upward, and to respond to this love and to abide therein will be your constant desire and aim. And so far as the Lord is concerned, there need not be the breadth of a hair between you and himself. No, he takes too much pleasure in your fellowship to withdraw himself willingly from you; and as long as you seek his face, you shall not seek it in vain.
But while love delights in its object, it seeks to please it, and dreads to pain it. Hence, W — B― was “obedient” as well as “affectionate;” and while he delighted to be “by his mother’s side,” “he also refrained from doing the things which “gave her grief.” And thus, beloved readers, will it ever be where love is real and genuine. The love of God shed abroad in your hearts by the Holy Ghost, given unto you, will constrain you to do “that which is well pleasing in his sight;” communion with the Lord will so increase the sensitiveness of your divine affections, that rather than willfully grieve him you would pluck out your right eye, and cut off your right hand or foot; and the more you enjoy the delightful privilege of being “the beloved of the Lord,” the more tender will be your conscience, the more circumspect your walk, and the more meek and lowly your whole deportment.
Cultivate, then, dear readers, that state of heart which will promote and further the fellowship into which you are called, and watch against everything that would hinder or weaken it. “Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you.” Walk habitually with him by prayer, and “as new born babes, desire the sincere milk of the word, that ye may grow thereby.” Make him your “exceeding joy,” and know him as the One who is not only all your salvation, but all your desire. Live in the holiest of all, and, alone with him, you will have rich and hallowed intercourse, happy and holy fellowship. Dwell in the very secret of his presence, and you will be so satisfied that you will understand the language of David, when he said, “Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.”
If thus you delight yourselves in the Lord, not only will the stream of communion flow on continually between you and him, but he will give you the desires of your heart. Like “the affectionate and obedient child,” you may have much to learn and many difficulties to contend with, but if you keep an open ear for the still small voice of God’s teaching, you will “be filled with the knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding;” whatsoever you ask you will receive of him, because you “keep his commandments, and do those things that are pleasing in his sight;” and the more you know of a close and constant walk with God upon earth, the deeper will be your capacity for enjoying eternal companionship with him in heaven.
N.