ONE OF my first experiences in working’ with boys was at a Sunday School in a very poor district. A lively lot the boys were, and I being a novice, they gave me the benefit of some of their best entertainment. Parched peas as hard as marbles whizzed about, and one poor teacher had a glass of water poured over his head; live mice appeared in the classrooms, and the superintendent found himself with several small ragged boys sitting on top of him singing “Yankee Doodle.” But after all, some of the worst boys turn out the best, when the Spirit of God works in their hearts and they come under the charm of the Saviour of sinners.
One of the worst boys in the Sunday School was named “Happy.” He was an orphan, and so had grown up without the tender influence of a mother’s love nor a father’s guidance and discipline which children so sorely need.
One afternoon Happy uttered a war whoop, whereupon two dozen boys jumped to their feet and marched out causing as much disturbance as possible. Some suggested that Happy should be bashed from the school, but if Christian friends shut him out, who would take him in? No, many excuses might be made for him, and true love shown with God’s blessing he might yet be “happy in the Lord.”
“We will not forbid his coming,” said the new superintendent, “but if he comes, leave him to me.”
He came and as usual he began to upset the Sunday School. Whereupon the super ordered him into a side room. He went very unwillingly, and when they got to the room, the super locked the door, shutting himself in with the little prisoner.
Happy was very unhappy then, and kicked at the door like a mad man.
“Stop that,” said his kindly companion and he made him sit down. Then the young Turk started whistling.
“Keep quiet, please,” was the cold command.
“Can’t I do nothin'?” said the lad solemnly.
“No, you will stop till school is over, and I will stop with you.”
Then he made a rush for the door. Presently the school began to sing the closing hymn.
“Can I go now?” asked Happy.
“No, not till the others are gone.”
Then came a quiet talk. “Why did you behave so? Was it not unkind to the teachers who only come here to do the children good? Was it not unfair to the boys who wanted to learn about the Lord and the sweet and precious truths of the Bible? Worst of all, how ungrateful it was to the Saviour who loved and died for you?”
Happy felt more unhappy than ever, and tears began to run down his cheeks. But he parted good friends with the superintendent who shook hands with him saying, “We shall be glad to see you next Sunday, if you behave. If not, we will spend another evening tether.”
Next Sunday Happy was the first at the school. He was no more trouble; but if there was a rumpus in another part of the room, he would go over, and raising his powerful young arm he would say, “Be quiet, will you; or I’ll wallop you.”
No one ever wished to know what he would do.
Then someone took pity on the poor boy and gave him a home. Poor young fellow! He could neither read nor write, so he was sent to school.
Sometime after one of the teachers who had been hit by one of Happy’s winkle shells was passing up the road when a smiling young fellow said, “Good morning, sir.”
He halted and found himself face to face with a very respectably dressed young man.
“You don’t know me. Don’t you remember Happy?”
Yes, it was the same boy, and yet not the same. He was now employed in a warehouse and had a good job there.
“Are you saved?” asked his old teacher.
“Yes!” Happy was truly happy for he could sing—
O happy day! happy day!
When Jesus wished my sins away:
He taught me how to watch and pray,
And live rejoicing every day.
Happy day, happy day!
When Jesus washed my sins away.
ML-02/20/1972