I WAS GOING down town in a Fourth Avenue car one day, said a New York business man, when I heard somebody cry out, “Halloa, Mr. Conductor, please stop your car a moment; I can’t run very fast.”
The car stopped, and presently there hobbled into it a little lame boy, about ten or twelve years old. I saw from the nice clothes he wore, that he was the son of well-to-do parents; but oh! his face told such a tale of silent suffering! and yet, he Was bright and cheerful. He put his little crutch behind him, and placing his poor withered limb in a more easy position, he began to look round at his fellow passengers. A happy smile played over his pale face, and he seemed to take notice of everything, Presently I got a seat next to him, and as he looked around him, I heard him humming in a low tone the words of the hymn—“Hark, I hear in heaven singing—.”
Then I had a little talk with him, and found that he knew and loved the Saviour, and it was this which made him so happy and cheerful. He told me he was born lame, and that the doctor said it never would be any better.
“Well, my dear boy,” I said, “under these circumstances, how can you be so happy and cheerful?”
His reply was, “Jesus, my Saviour, has sent this trial for me to bear. Father tells me He would not have sent it, unless He knew it would be best for me. And don’t you think, sir, that I ought to be satisfied with the best?”
This touched my heart, and brought tears to my eyes. I was just going to get out of the car then. So I shook hands with the little fellow, and thanked him, for the lesson he had taught me, which I told him I hoped I should never forget as long as I lived.
ML-12/30/1962