A True Story of a Little Child.
IN the year 1861, a number of children and young people were assembled in a large hall with the object of having their attention directed to their individual need of a Saviour, when the following letter was read, with earnest prayer that their young hearts and minds might be blessed through its contents: ―
Dear young Friends, —A friend who loves you all very much wishes to tell you something. You all like books with pictures in them, I am quite sure of that.
Listen then, and I will tell you of a little girl who loved picture-books very much, and although she was hardly old enough to read all the words, or know all the meanings of the words, yet she liked pleasing tales and pictures, and never seemed to tire with looking at them over and over. So one day this little girl was very busy turning all the other books out of the way, to find the old favorite with its droll faces and strange figures, when in a moment there seemed the sound of a voice quite close to her, and the voice said to the little girl, “If you die as you are, what will become of you?” She looked round, thinking it must be her father speaking to her. But no; there was no one in that large room, that she could see, except herself, yet the voice said again, “If you die as you are, what will become of you?” and she felt that it went down into her heart, and something there said, “Yes; what will become of you?”
The little girl closed the large book with its pictures and went away very slowly and very thoughtfully into a quiet part of the garden behind the house, but the voice followed her there, and still said to her, “If you die as you are, what will become of you?”
The voice sounded very solemn and very sad, and yet it seemed always to speak with such love and pity to that little girl, always, always the same words, “If you die as you are, what will become of you?” A long time the little girl stood there in the garden all alone, thinking, and holding her frock very tightly in both hands. I can tell you all she thought about. She thought, “Yes; I am a sinner, and if I die as I am, a sinner, what will become of me? I am afraid I should have to go to hell, to be always with the devil and his angels. But I will try from now to be very good, and if I can only get to be good before I die, then God will, I hope, let me go to heaven; for I should not like to be always with the devil and his angels.”
O my dear young friends, I must tell you how mistaken this little girl was in forgetting that God did really love sinners, for do we not read, “God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” And she did not think of that friend of little children, that friend of sinners, Jesus, who spoke to her heart in the large room, and then in the garden.
If any of you feel yourselves to be sinners, and fear to die as you are, oh do not, as this little lassie did, look ALL at yourselves and your own weakness, and forget Jesus who only can save you, and is quite near to you always, if you will only look to him.
This little girl I am telling you of did not try to put this voice away from her. She had a naughty, obstinate temper — she tried to mend this, and those about her began to say they thought she was at last going to be a good, obedient little child, and sometimes she thought so herself; but oh, it was very hard work, for she often forgot herself. I will tell you one thing she found it very hard to do, and that was to go past a large Appletree, where the boughs were very low, and the apples so sweet. She was told not to touch them, yet sometimes she seemed as if she could not help taking out her little stool, standing on which she could reach the apples easily; yet if she took one she could not eat it, but threw it away, for the voice would then say louder than ever, “If you die as you are, a disobedient child — a thief — what will become of you?” At other times she would only look at the tree, and say, “No, no, I must not touch one of you, for I am trying now to be good.” But, poor little girl, she often did not succeed, and the voice still kept saying, “If you die as you are, what will become of you?”
One day she gave her breakfast and all her money to a poor boy, and whilst she did so she thought, “God will begin to love me for doing this, and I shall begin to get fit to go to heaven I hope.” But the voice still said, “If you die as you are, what will become of you?” So the poor little girl did not know what else she could do. She did not know the love of the Lord Jesus.
One night she had gone to bed; the nurse had taken away the light, and thought she had left her asleep; but oh, no, she lay on her little bed thinking, thinking always of what was to become of her if she should die just as she was. She said to herself, “I am afraid I never, never shall get to be good, so good as to be fit to go to heaven;” and then she thought, and this was the best thought of all, “I will just now tell Jesus all about it;” and this was her prayer to Jesus as she lay there on her little bed that night: “Oh, if you please, Jesus, I am quite sure I have tried a long while to make myself fit to go to heaven when I die, but I can’t do it. I am so often doing something wrong, and then being very sorry about it, and that is just all. Oh, what must I do? I am so very sorry, and I am very tired. I want so to have rest. O Jesus, please let me rest. If you would take me just for a little in your arms as you did the little children in the Bible. If you would take me, and take away all my sins, too. And, oh, if you won’t — if you won’t — and I die as I am, what will become of me?”
Poor little girl! her heart was ready to break at this thought, so she could say no more, but just hid her face, all wet with tears, in the pillow.
But, dear reader, Jesus Christ loves little children, and he loved this little girl, and had been waiting to take her, and bless her, but she had been so busy trying to make herself “fit to die,” that she had never once, till now, looked in simple faith to Christ for the “rest” which he alone can give the sinner. And oh, how kindly did that compassionate Saviour smile upon this “little one,” and say, “Come.” “Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” Oh, it was a sweet word, that “Come!” The little girl obeyed, and in the love of Jesus felt she had “rest.”
And oh, wonderful, delightful feeling! the voice that had said so long, “If you die as you are, what will become of you?” was hushed; she heard it no more, but went to sleep and awoke, saying, “Oh, I am so happy now! I do love Jesus.” And when she rose the next morning, she was so glad, so full of joy, for she felt Jesus was still with her.
Ah! she saw Jesus now, by faith; and oh, what a sweet attraction held her upturned gaze upon him, “the Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;” “the crucified;” “the sinner’s Friend.”
Jesus was dearer to her than all beside, and because she loved and wished to please him, she found she could obey her father, and try not to be naughty and obstinate a great deal better, and could say to herself, “Jesus helps me now.”
And from that happy night, now a long while ago, in his unmerited love and mercy, Jesus has cared for that little one, and is as dear to her as ever.
The little girl has grown up to be a woman, often feeling her weakness, and the blessedness of his supporting arm in the time of need and of his consolation in the hour of trial and sorrow.
And she it is, dear young friends, who writes you this letter, because she is quite sure that a voice is often going down into your hearts, saying, “IF I DIE AS I AM, WHERE SHALL I GO?” And oh if you die in your sins, unwashed in the precious blood of Jesus, you cannot enter heaven. But Jesus says to you all, “Come.” Oh, trust not in yourselves, but look to Jesus to help you, to save you, and to give you rest, and in coming to him, you shall find rest, and learn also how
“To watch and pray,
And live rejoicing every day.”