ONE morning our Bible lesson in school was the choice of Solomon. It is a short and beautiful story, which you can read for yourselves in the first chapter of the second book of Chronicles. When I had read the seventh verse, which, you will see, is, “In that night did God appear unto Solomon, and said unto him, Ask what I shall give thee.” I stopped and said to the children, “Now, suppose God were to give you your choice! Suppose He were to say to you ‘Ask whatever you like, and you shall have it,’ what would you ask?”
It was curious to watch the puzzled expression on some faces as they sat thinking what they would like best of all things to have. Most of the girls were thinking, as their answers presently showed, of all the beautiful dolls and fine dresses they had ever seen; and the boys of cricket sets, and ponies, and other things that boys delight in. You can easily imagine the answers these gave; but two gave answers which it would take you a long time, I think, to guess.
The first child I asked to tell me what he would choose was Theodore, a very manly little fellow, and I felt sure he would choose something fit for only a very big boy; but to the surprise of us all, this was his choice—and we could not help laughing when we heard it— “A new suit!”
It seemed all the more odd as he was then, as he is always, well and warmly dressed, and had, as we all knew, a very nice Sunday suit. I did not know then, what I have since found out, that Theodore thinks much of having plenty of what the Bible calls “changes of raiment,” a strange thing, I think, for a boy to care about. Not long ago, when we were out for a walk, he confided to me the exact number of shirts, stockings, waistcoats, and other articles of dress which he possessed, and the list I thought did credit to his mother, who is no better off than many other women whose children are covered only with rags.
When we had done laughing—and it takes some time for a school of children to have done laughing, especially when the teacher has joined in the mirth—I went on questioning, and when I came to Lizzie, a shy, meek girl, nine years old, I received the other answer, which I said I did not think you would ever be able to guess. And what do you think she said she would choose—rather than anything else? “The white robe.”
The most thoughtless were touched as they heard her say that, and looked at her tattered brown linsey dress, shapeless stockings of no particular color, and big old boots. Poor little girl! I cannot remember seeing her dressed in any better attire, and unless God raises up a friend for her, who will clothe her from head to foot, so that she may come tidy to the Sunday school, she will never be any better dressed till she is old enough to go to service and clothe herself.
A deep blush suffused Lizzie’s rich nutbrown complexion, and her eyelids drooped over her large mild gray eyes, as I commended her choice, and assured her that if she desired this fair and beautiful robe with her whole heart, it would indeed be given her; “And then, Lizzie,” I said, “will you not say again and again—
“‘Clad in this robe, how bright I shine!
Angels possess not such a dress.’”
And looking upon her, I thought “Yes, she will indeed be fair and lovely then, and Jesus will say to her, ‘Thou art all fair. There is no spot in thee.’” And I cannot help thinking of her as one of those of whom the Lord said, “Of such is the kingdom of heaven.”
We did not speak anymore about Solomon that morning. I thought it better to speak of the necessity of obtaining that robe, and how it is to be obtained—by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.
Only those children who are washed from their sins may wear it; for who would put a clean white robe upon a dirty child? And what did it cost the Lord Jesus to procure the dress for us? I read not long ago of a lady who has a dress worth more than a thousand pounds; but as I read I thought, “Ah, that is nothing compared with what the white robe cost!”
I have no doubt my young readers could tell me that it cost our Lord His life, His very heart’s blood; but I would like to ask you whether you ever, for even five minutes, have sat down and thought on what He suffered when thus dying? Ah! were you to do so I do not think you could help being drawn to Him by the cords of love, and there and then believing on Him with all the faith of your young heart. And then He would take away your sin, and put this robe upon you, without which you cannot enter in through the gates into the city.
You know that He says, “Buy of Me white raiment,” and you know too, I daresay, that God’s way of selling is just “giving.” Have you ever gone to Him to buy without money and without price?
And do not you, who possess this robe, seeing it has cost the Lord so much, and that in it you will enter into the glorious holy city, try to walk worthy of Him here. I trust that you do so indeed.
Perhaps some poor ragged girl like Lizzie may be reading this story. If so, I would say to her, “Dear girl, do not trouble about your poor clothes, excepting to mend them, if you at all know how. Make Lizzie’s choice yours, and comfort yourself by thinking of the time when you will stand among the great multitude who shall be before the throne, clothed in white robes, and with palms in their hands. No one, then, will proudly pull in their fine skirts, lest your poor rags should touch them. Oh no! your heart will never so be wounded; you will be ‘like other people’ there. Neither will you ever be hungry, as so poor a girl must often be here. Oh no! ‘They hunger no more, neither thirst any more. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them to living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.’” E. B.