A WIDOW left with eight children, one son and seven daughters, devoted all her care to bring them up in the fear of God. Her efforts were successful with her daughters, but the young man turned a deaf ear to all her exhortations. Led astray by gay companions, he at length sank so low that he was obliged to leave the country.
His poor mother, at parting, gave him a Bible, in which she had written his name and her own, and entreated him in the most solemn manner to read it if he had still any love left for his mother.
The young man set off, and for many years nothing was heard of him. Anxious and sorrowful, the widow applied to the sailors who came to the port for tidings of her son. At length she met with one who informed her that the vessel in which the young man sailed was wrecked.
“And what of my son Charles?” asked the agonized mother.
“O, Charles! I knew him,” replied the seaman, with unfeeling bluntness; “he was a bad fellow; if all such as he were at the bottom of the sea it would be no great harm.”
The poor woman went home overwhelmed with grief. She often said, “I shall go down to the grave mourning for my son.”
Years passed by, and one day a sailor knocked at her door. A sailor had always an interest in the eyes of this poor widow, and she listened to his story with deep emotion. He had been through great dangers by land and sea, and several times had been shipwrecked.
“But,” said he, “I was never in such miserable plight as once, some time ago, when I escaped with only one companion out of a whole ship’s crew. We were cast upon an uninhabited island, and at the end of seven days and nights I had the pain of closing the eyes of my companion. Poor young man! I shall never forget him;” and here the tears ran down the sailor’s weather-beaten cheeks. “He was constantly reading a little book his mother had given him, and which was the only thing he had rescued from the waves. It was his great consolation; he wept for his sins, he prayed, he clasped the book to his heart. He only spoke to me of his book and his mother, and at last he gave it to me, thanking me for my poor services. ‘Here, Jack,’ said he, ‘take this book, keep it, and do not forget to read it; and may the Lord bless it to thee, as He has to me.’ Then he pressed my hand and died in peace.”
“Is that all true?” cried the mother, trembling with surprise and emotion.
“Yes, madam, every word.” And taking a little much worn book from his bosom. “This is the book,” said he “which I have told you about.”
The mother took it, recognized her own handwriting, and read the name of her son beside her own. She wept, she rejoiced, she was almost beside herself. She seemed to hear a voice from heaven saying to her, “Thy son lives.”
“Will you sell me this book, my good friend?” asked the mother.
“No,” replied the sailor, “not at any price, not for all the world. He gave it me with his dying hand. I have more than once since then lost everything, but I have faithfully kept this Bible. I have learned the value of it myself, and I will not part from it but with my life.”
When any of your children leave the paternal roof, let them take the Bible with them. Your eye can no longer watch over them, but the Word of God can go with them everywhere, to enlighten and preserve them from evil. You may have reason to fear that your son will not read the Bible; give it him nevertheless, in the sweet confidence that God will bless it to his soul by means which you cannot foresee.
Ever remember the blessed promise “Cast thy bread upon the waters; for thou shalt find it after many days.”
ML 05/12/1918