IT was early in March—the first really warm as well as sunshiny day we had had; and one by one, as they made their bows and curtsies on leaving after morning school, the children asked, “Will you go a-walking today, governess; will you go a-walking?” “The sun’s shining,” pleaded some; “there’s violets down in the Coombe,” said others.
The eager faces of the children, the sunshine, and the promised violets won the day, and the wished for “Yes,” was said. Then so great was their delight, and so demonstrative were they in their expression of it, that you would have thought, had you suddenly come amongst them and heard them, that they had just been promised a “tea” or some such favorite children’s treat.
When our various little duties allowed we set out. A quick, bright walk was out of the question, for so many quite wee things wanted to come too, and it always seems so hard to forbid them. Four or five of these seized hold of my “frock”―as they call one’s gown―the instant I was down the steps; and there was nothing for it but to take our pleasure slowly.
As we walked along, little Blanche, a dark-eyed child―one of those who held my dress―looking up in my face, said, “Tilly says she would like if Jesus was here, and so does Bertha.”
As I looked down and met the truthful, wistful expression of these children’s eyes, which seemed to say, “That’s all that’s wanting to our present joy,” I could but think, “How few there are who wish for Jesus when their cup is full of earthly joy!”
I knew a young girl who, having lost her mother in early childhood, had only known a father’s love. Her father also died. The girl was stronger than most to bear sorrow alone, but she found it was not easy to carry her joys by herself. For years after her father’s death, whenever anything happened which made her particularly happy, her first thought and impulse was to write and tell it all to him. It is just so we should feel towards the Lord Jesus if we loved Him at all as we ought. And to those who love Him in this way He comes even now, and in a way which only He and they can understand, and shares and doubles all their joy.
Most children, I fancy, think that if Jesus were really here it would spoil all the pleasure. It is such a mistake. I think when He comes “little ones” which believe on Him and love Him will look up as brightly and happily in His face as you, little reader, do in your father’s, when he comes along while you are having a game.
A little girl in Scotland was one day sitting deeply engrossed with some toys, when her father came into the room, and asked her if she should like to go with him the next day to Edinburgh. She rose instantly, with an exclamation of surprised delight, let her toys fall all about, and ran into her father’s arms. To go to Edinburgh, and with “father,” meant new and far more splendid toys. So with those little ones who are alive and rain unto the coming of the Lord: they will gladly quit their earthly play to go back with Him to heaven, where there are pleasures for evermore.
He will be here soon, for He says, “Behold, I come quickly!” If He came now could you look up in His face with joy? Would you be glad? Not unless you have had your sins taken away through trusting in Him as your Saviour, believing that He died to save you. Have you done this? E B―r.