ONE evening, late in July, a gentleman was walking through a park where many dear young people were amusing themselves in one way and another. He strolled from one happy little group to another, watching their innocent play. Having walked some little distance from them, he stopped near a large tree. As he was gazing round upon the scene before him, a voice came softly to his ears, and turning in the direction from whence it came, he saw a boy kneeling beside the trunk of the tree with his hands clasped together, and his face upturned to heaven, evidently in earnest prayer, little thinking that anyone was near. Listening attentively, he heard the dear little fellow, in a soft voice, half choked, with sighs, say: “Dear Saviour, wash away her sins and save “my dear mother.”
As he rose from his knees the gentleman stepped forward, and taking his hand, asked him where he lived.
“I live down there in that small house,” he said.
“And where did you learn to pray, my dear boy?”
“At the Sunday-school, where my teacher told me Jesus died for me, and that now He lives in heaven.”
“And do you love the Lord who died for you?”
“O yes! O yes! indeed I do, and I so wish my dear mother loved Him too, for she is very ill and may soon die. I try all I can to tell her of Jesus, and I pray to God for her and father.”
“And do you think He hears your prayers, and will really save your father and mother?”
“O yes, for my teacher tells me that God loves to hear young people pray, and that whatever we ask in the name of Jesus He is sure to give us.”
Having said this, the little fellow added: “Now I must go; good-bye,” drew away his hand, and, smiling sweetly, ran off to his home.
About a year after this, the gentleman being again in the town, called to inquire after his little friend, and learned from his father that both he and his mother were dead, and that his wife had found, ere she died, the forgiveness of sins through the words of her little boy. He said, too, that after his mother’s death he used to come to him and tell him all he learned at the Sunday School, and that thus, through his son’s means, he had also been led to believe in Jesus.
The poor father wept as he talked about his dear boy, and as he wiped away his tears, said: “I am now just waiting to join him and my dear wife above, there to praise the blessed God, that taught us both to love Him through the lips of our child.”
ML 07/22/1917