FAR away, in a remote part of England, a dear servant of the Lord was telling a few poor sinners of the wondrous love of the Son of God to them. He dwelt much not only on the sinner’s need of a Saviour, but on Christ’s need of the sinner; true and precious as the one is, the other is more wonderful. It touches the heart; and a soul that has once had a sense of what it is to say, “His desire is toward me,” cannot but be lost in wonder as well as humbled to the dust at the greatness and vastness of such divine love.
Breathlessly the occupants of the little cottage listened as this dear servant preached unto them “Jesus” —Jesus, the crucified One—Jesus, the ascended and glorified Man; but none listened more breathlessly than Jamie, the child of the drunkard. Just peep behind the half-closed door, and you will see, barefooted, and in garments of rags, the face of a child. Once seen, you could not easily forget, so pale and deep was the expression of his broad, open brow. His large, longing gray eyes spoke of an intensity and ardor within that had never yet been satisfied; a circle of heavy, dark auburn locks finished Jamie’s picture, for a picture indeed he was of beauty, strength, and health.
Jamie was his mother’s pride, and the pride of the village. Jamie received much love, but had you asked him if God had made him happy, he would have told you that such peace and happiness were unknown to him. And, indeed, they are unknown to all (whether they own it or not) who do not know the Lord, and who cannot say “we see Jesus.”
Jamie was now hearing for the first time wonderful divine truths. He heard of the holy, spotless Jesus, coming down from His Father’s throne, and dying the cruel death of the cross for lost and hell-deserving sinners. And Jamie believed that Jesus had died for him, only a poor, ragged, sinful boy! Jamie listened in his heart to what the preacher said. He believed that nothing less than the blood of Jesus could wash away his sins. These truths he drank in. He found the Lord, and finding Him “as the hart panteth after the water brooks,” so panted his soul after Christ. The things he heard of Jesus drew forth the love and worship of his heart. That the King of Glory should love him, and love him now, although up in the glory. The very thought awed him in silent wonder.
Months had he been thirsting after—he hardly knew what, and now it all came to him like a flash of lightning. He was simply lost in wonder as he saw, for the first time, “Jesus only.” Jamie’s face was beautiful before, but now it had a radiance that the soul-sight of Jesus, who shines beyond the brightness of the sun, can alone impart.
The prayer, being ended, Jamie went home. “Oh, mother, mother,” he said, “I’ve seen Him!” and he pointed to the heavens above. “He loves me! He’s there for me! He wants me—poor, ragged Jamie, and Jamie’s going to Him now, straight. Jesus has died for Jamie, and Jamie’s too, too happy to live!”
“Hush, hush, my child,” cried the mother, “you’re beside yourself; calm yourself a bit, take your supper, and go to bed. The Almighty don’t love you nor me,” she said, “or He’d a never given us such a husband and a father, that’s sure, so don’t go telling your mother such untruths. Your father’s drunk, and is just a nigh coming in; if he hears this kind a talk he’ll beat you.”
“But Jesus does love us, mother,” Jamie said; “He loves father, you, and me, only we must believe Him. Take away the bread, mother, I want no supper tonight. I’ve seen Him up there, mother,” and again his eyes looked heavenward, as if he were indeed up there already in spirit. “Yes, I’ve seen Him, and that’s enough for Jamie. Good night, mother; Jamie’s last words to you are, Jesus is up there, loves you, and died for you;” and with these words, he climbed up to his garret and laid him down to sleep. Truly, he could say, “I sat down under His shadow with great delight, and His fruit was sweet to my taste.” (Sol. 2:33As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. (Song of Solomon 2:3).)
“Jesus, Jesus, beautiful Jesus,” he said, “O, make me thank You—You, who have been thinking of me all these years, and I never knew it! You’ve made Jamie too happy to live; take me home to live with You in your bright place, where You light it up. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Jesus! Jesus!”
“Jamie, Jamie, my son,” half whispered the terrified mother, from the bottom of the broken steps, “stop that singing; your father will beat you.” But no threats could stop Jamie’s happy spirit from echoing forth His praises. It was but the divine love filling his soul flowing back again right up to the Source whence it came. Yes; even his poor child could send up a sweet-smelling odor well pleasing to God, because Christ was his theme. And he was forced to speak of the altogether lovely One, who lad not only died for him, but had won, had filled his young heart.
In her room below, his mother caught the taint murmurings of her boy’s voice saying, “Jesus, Jesus; Jesus died for Jamie; Jamie’s too, too happy to live. Hallelujah!”
The voice was so soft, so faint, she thought her Jamie must have covered himself over with the blanket, so as not to vex his poor father, as afterward it was proved to be the ease. She listened again; yes; it was no fancy, she heard in the faintest tones—
“Jesus, Jesus, my song shall be,
Bright, lovely Jesus who died for me.”
And then the voice grew softer and softer, till it died away.
The drunken father came home, but he did not beat Jamie. The poor mother knew not what it was that made her little son so strangely glad, far less did she enter into his words, “Jamie’s too happy to live.” But the next morning early she found to her astonishment and her deep, deep grief that her child’s words about going straight to Jesus were no wild fancy of his, but a reality.
The Lord had thought fit to bosom the lamb that night. He had taken Jamie away from his drunken father’s influence, and the weeping mother and the village children were left to ponder the Master’s ways.
Some still speak in wonder of what the Lord did for Jamie; may the reader of this story learn the Lord’s lesson in it.
Yes! Jamie’s happy, freed spirit had flown that night to be forever with the One who had captivated him. Happy Jamie!
It was touching, too, to see how carefully Jamie had tried to lessen the noise of his singing, by putting the blanket half over his face, but sing he must. E. O’N. N.