MANY years ago, says a preacher of the gospel, every summer I took a journey into the adjoining suburbs and went from village to village and from house to house proclaiming the gospel of God’s grace.
While on such a journey one summer, I came to a little cottage. In the low, spacious kitchen, I found a middle-aged woman busy ironing, a little boy playing upon the ground, while a girl about nineteen years of age, with a most cheerful countenance, was sitting by the window platting straw. She did not look up when I walked in, and when I had observed her more closely, I saw that she was blind.
After a few general remarks had passed between us, I began to tell them the story of the Lord Jesus, His love, His sufferings, and His death. They listened with the greatest attention, and tears rolled down the cheeks of the blind girl. All that I told them was quite new to them, because they had never heard of the love of Jesus and His finished work. The following days I visited the poor cottagers several times, and Jesus, the Good Shepherd, gave me a new cause of thankfulness that He used me as the instrument to bring the mother, as well as the daughter, to true peace of heart.
Poor blind Marie! O, how she was touched when I spoke of Him who opened the eyes of the blind, how blind Bartimaeus sat by the wayside begging, and how he called to Jesus of Nazareth and received sight! An irresistible desire to have her eyes opened also filled her heart from that moment, although it was not merely to see the blue heavens, or the countenance of her mother or the friendly smiles of her little brother, that she desired to have sight; no, it was because she earnestly desired to be able to read the words of Jesus.
There lived at that time a God-fearing man who had gathered a few blind ones around him whom he taught to read and work. I visited this man, told him of Marie and arranged with him that she should come for an hour every morning to learn to read. I gave her a Bible, the letters of which were printed high so that the blind could feel them with their fingers.
That was joy when she went out the following morning, led by her little brother, and with her precious Bible in her hand, to take her first lesson. But, alas! how she was disappointed. Through continual straw platting her fingers had become so hard that she could not feel the letters. However, one day when she was busy cutting off the ends of straw, the thought struck her to cut the hard skin off her fingers so that new, soft skin should grow on. And positively she did it, however much pain it caused her. But, alas! also this did not help. There was not enough feeling in her fingers, and, moreover, she had to go on platting straw, because she depended on it for her livelihood.
This was a bitter disappointment for poor Marie. Day after day she wept, saying she would so like to read the Word of God. At length she said, “God has opened the eyes of my soul; ought not I then to bless and praise Him?”
But what should she do now with her new Bible? She resolved to return it, so that another blind girl who had not such hard fingers as she had, might learn out of it, and that in it she might find the words of life. And, pressing the precious book to her bosom, she fell upon her knees and prayed, “O, precious Lord Jesus, Thou who lovest the poor, and openeth the eyes of the blind, I thank Thee that Thou has not hid Thyself from a poor blind girl. And as I cannot read Thy heavenly words, I beseech Thee that Thou wilt whisper them to my heart continually, so that my mind may not be so dark as my eyes. I can hear Thy blessed word; and Thou knowest that I love Thee.” She then put the opened Bible to her lips to kiss it. And, O, what joy! The tender lips could plainly distinguish the high printed letters. With a shout of delight, she followed the lines until she read a whole page. Everything was easy and plain to her. The lips could do what the hard fingers were unable—they could read.
Twelve months later I visited there again. The low kitchen was not altered, but the happy countenance of Marie shone with heavenly joy. She was sitting on an old chair with a straw basket at her feet reading her dear Bible. It was an affecting scene to see that poor blind girl so rejoiced.
There was, as it were, no more darkness to her. She said, with her beautiful, well-sounding voice, “Is it not nice to kiss the lovely words while I am reading them?” Happy girl! How gracious has the Lord been to her! He heard her prayer, and filled her heart with gladness. Oh, that all my readers would value the Bible as she did!
ML 05/13/1917