IT was the evening of a children’s party, and after having taken tea with them, I retired to my own room, to give them more freedom to enjoy themselves. The house was a wide, broad, rambling one, where they could have hide and seek, and run from room to room and from hall to hall. I daresay the game was of this kind, when one of the little girls slipped into my room to hide, not knowing I was there.
She was a tiny, delicate girl, scarcely able to enjoy a game, or a romp, for she had fallen while at school as a child, and injured her spine permanently.
I invited her in, for she was about to retire. She was a great favorite with us all, and she willingly came to me, and sat on my knee while I chatted with her. I advised her not to join such a game with strong boys and girls, and said she might just stay with me till their game was over.
Then we chatted away for a little time, and as I sat and looked at the weak girl and thought how there was little or no hope that she would live for more than a few years, I felt anxious about her soul, and longed to have a word with her about Jesus.
“How old are you, Bella?” I asked.
“Just thirteen!” she replied.
“Indeed,” I said, “are you really so old as that?”
Then I added, “Thirteen was to me a very eventful age, for do you know it was just when I was thirteen years old that I gave my heart to Jesus?”
She looked up sweetly into my face, and I added:
“Perhaps you have already long ago given Him your heart?”
“No,” she said in a whisper, “I have not done so yet!”
“Well, Bella,” I asked, “would you believe me if I said that I was sorry that I ever gave my heart to Jesus?”
“No,” she replied, “I am sure you never regretted doing so.”
“But don’t you think, Bella, that I would have been wiser to wait and after I had grown up given Him my heart?”
“No, I suppose the sooner the better,” said the girl.
“Do you really think so?” I asked. “Do you think it a wise thing to give one’s heart to Jesus, and that as soon as possible, and that one never, never regrets such a step?”
“Yes,” she said, “I do.”
“Then, Bella,” I asked again, “would you believe me when I tell you that it was the happiest day in all my life, and that I never knew what it was to be happy until then, and that I have been very, very, very happy ever since, and that now knowing Jesus as my own beloved Saviour, who died for me on Calvary, and who loves me still, just as well as ever He did, although He is now on the throne, and possesses all power in heaven and on earth, would you believe that now, if I had a thousand hearts, I would gladly give Him them all?”
“Yes,” said the little girl, as she heaved a long, deep drawn sign, that spoke to me of a secret longing to be happy, and perhaps a secret unhappiness and dread, deep down in that heart.
“Well, Bella,” I said, “Jesus came to my heart and knocked, and said, ‘My son, give Me thine heart;’ and for a time, a long, long time, I said, ‘No, Jesus, I want to enjoy the world and myself for a while, I don’t want you yet.’ But friends around me died, and I grew sick, and I feared that I too might die unsaved, without Christ; and Jesus came again, and said, ‘My son, give Me thine heart,’ and then I said, ‘Take my heart, Lord, and keep it forever.’” Then turning to the dear child, I said, “Bella, Jesus has often come to Your heart, and said, ‘My daughter, give Me thine heart;’ and maybe you have put Him off again and again, and now He comes once more tonight and knocks, and says, ‘Let Me in;’ and one day you may be knocking at Jesus’ door at heaven’s gate, and saying, ‘Let me in, Jesus;’ and if you do not let Him in, you cannot expect Him to let you in then, for He will have to say, ‘I never knew you.’” “But,” I continued, as I saw the tears in the eyes of my little friend, “if you take Jesus in now, He will take you then, into His Father’s home.” A little more was said, but the end was that Bella and I knelt down, after I had locked my door, and there and then, with tears partly of sorrow and partly of joy, did she give herself up to Jesus, and asked Him to come into her sinful heart and wash it, and make it white as snow by His precious blood.
I knew, I felt that it was a real transaction, that God had brought her into my room, and that that night He was rejoicing over another lost lamb folded in the Shepherd Saviour’s arms, and I thanked Him for having thus drawn to Himself this dear child.
Putting my arms round her as she rose from her knees, I said:
“Bella, Jesus has been holding out His arms for you a long time, and now you have come to them, and He just folds them round you like this;” and I said,
“His are the everlasting arms, and nothing shall ever separate you from His bosom or His love, and no one, neither man, nor angel, nor devil will be able to pluck you from Him.” I opened the door, and she went quietly away to wash a face stained with crying, but bright with the new light of life, and to join the others, who had scarcely missed her. That evening I walked home with her, and had the opportunity of opening up to her more of the love of Jesus, and of what she had in Him.
We saw each other almost weekly, and Bella kept on, as she had begun, loving the Lord. Many a time I knew by the pressure of her hand, when there was an opportunity to speak, that she meant “We love Jesus,” and many a talk we had of His goodness and grace.
“We love Him because He first loved us.”
ML 09/29/1918