TWO grey-haired men were walking along the street, one of them carrying a bouquet of beautiful and fragrant flowers.
“Wait a minute, “said the latter, as he stopped before a small cottage and rang the hell. A little girl opened the door. She smiled as she took the flowers.
“I know who they’re for,” she said; “they’re for gran’ma.”
“Yes,” assented the giver, “with my love.”
“Well, I do declare!” observed the friend, as they passed on. “You surprise me! I had no idea you went around leaving flowers and your love with old ladies.”
“Just with one old lady,” laughing. “You see, it is this way:
When I was a boy this dear lady’s son and I were chums. We were going away to school. I was an orphan. I left the house where I had been boarding, with a heavy heart. No one cared that I was going away; no one would miss me.
I stopped for Dan—that was my chum’s name—on the way to the station. As I entered the yard he and his mother were saying good-bye. The hot tears rushed to my eyes as I saw Dan’s mother kiss him. ‘Good-bye, my son, God bless you,’ I heard her say.
No one had kissed me. No one had asked God to bless me. Well, God was not blessing me, I said to myself bitterly, and then my tears vanished. I felt defiant, and set my lips hard. Then Dan’s mother looked up. She must have read my feelings in my ugly face.
“Good-bye, Davie,” she said gently, holding out her hand to me. I knew my face looked stern and hard; I pretended not to see the outstretched hands, and I wouldn’t look her in the face. I was turning away without a word of farewell, when she called, O, so sweetly, I can hear her now, even after all these years, “Davie, my boy, aren’t you going to say good-bye to Dannie’s mother? Aren’t you, Davie?” I turned and took her hands, the loving compassion in her voice had won me from myself and despair. I held close to her while she kissed me. Then gently loosening my grasp of her hands, she drew her arms about me. “Good-bye, Davie,” she said, “I love you, too, my boy, and may God bless you.”
The man’s lips quivered, “The world grew bright to me then and there,” he continued. “I had something to live for, and I did my best in school and college. Over and over that tender good-bye of Dan’s mother rang in my soul. ‘Goodbye, Davie; I love you, too, my boy, and may God bless you.’ God has blessed me.”
“Where is Dan,” asked his friend. “Dan died six years ago; that is his little girl who came to the door. It was an awful blow to the dear old lady when Dan died, and she has never been strong since that dark day. She has been so good as to tell me that I bring much sunshine into her life, and I thank God that I am able to do so.”
With a love greater than even a mother’s, the Saviour who died for you longs to clasp you to His bosom, to impress the kiss of forgiveness, and to bless and save eternally. Will you let Him—NOW?
ML 08/28/1927