ON a cold, wintry day, many years ago, a trading-vessel arrived at London from Jamaica. In a few days the cargo was unloaded, and cheerfully the sailors and crew left the vessel to visit their relatives and friends after a long and dangerous voyage. One remained alone behind. Nobody troubled themselves about him. No loving mother received the arriving son. No brothers or sisters welcomed him to a comfortable home. Jimmie, the colored cabin-boy, stood there alone on the wharf, and knew not where to go. On board he had been well off, but now what must he do? The poor boy! He walked up and down, until it was getting dark, and then went into the city. Trembling with cold, and crying with sorrow, he walked along the streets, ardently longing for his sunny, warm native land. How much he was to be pitied, the little negro-boy! Who would take care of him? Who would have any thought for him? O, dear readers! The Lord Jesus would. The unseen eye of God was watching over him, and following all His steps. The Lord God who cares for the birds of the air and clothes the lilies of the field in their magnificent raiment, did not forget poor Jimmie in his loneliness.
A kindhearted man, whom the Lord sent in his way, as in former days He sent the ravens to feed the prophet Elijah, said to him: “Where are you going, my boy?” Jimmie looked up astonished, and said: “Nowhere, sir! I have no home here.”
“Don’t cry so, my boy; come along with me; I’ll bring you to a good home.”
You can imagine, dear readers, that Jimmie did not hesitate very long. He walked cheerfully beside the friendly man, who took him to a refuge for homeless boys. The director welcomed our little friend heartily, brought him into the large hall, where he was soon surrounded by the other boys. His black face, his dark, bright eyes—not now full of tears, but shining with joy—attracted the attention of them all, so that for quite a time he was the theme of their conversation, and many were the inquisitive questions they asked him.
Every Sunday morning at 7 o’clock there was a Sunday-school held in the Home, by Christians who volunteered to do this work. Jimmie came into a class held by a lady. He was not quick at understanding, but he was friendly, attentive and confiding. The teacher took much trouble in telling him the Bible stories, and explaining them to him; and as his memory was not very good, it was slow work. Fortunately he could read a little, as his mother, that he loved very much and often spoke about, had sent him to a day-school in Jamaica.
On a certain Sunday the teacher tried to make it clear to the boys, how the Lord Jesus loved children. All at once Jimmie said, “O, teacher! I think that you are just like my mother!”
“Really?” said the teacher, “well I am glad of that.”
“But we are not,” cried out all the boys together, laughing loudly. “A nice compliment you are paying the teacher; your mother is a black woman, with a face shining like a pair of polished shoes, with thick lips and a flat nose. And just look how white the teacher’s face is.”
“That doesn’t matter,” said Jimmie, “Teacher is just like mother, I know.”
“Don’t be angry, boys,” said the teacher, “I understand what he means. If Jimmie loves the Lord, then God will be his heavenly Father. The Lord does not look at the color of the skin; He made the black people just as well as the white: He looks at the heart. And so Jimmie thinks that I am very like his mother, because I love him, as his mother did, and in his heart he feels the power of love.”
The summer passed pleasantly by for the boys in the Home, with their work and play. Jimmie was sent to a shoe-maker to learn the trade, and he liked his work very much. Then came the fall and the winter. The cold climate of England Jimmie could not bear. He took cold, and it settled on his lungs. Towards Christmas there were great preparations going on for a merry feast. All the boys helped with decorating, except Jimmie who felt too weak. When the long-wished-for evening came at last, the boys with their care takers, masters and a large number of benefactors were together in the brilliantly lighted reception hall. How the children enjoyed all the beautiful things prepared for them, and how merrily and joyfully they played! Jimmie sat in a chair looking on, he could not play with them, as it tired him too much. His Sunday-school teacher sat beside him. Taking his hand in hers she said: “Well, Jim, what do you say of the feast? Have you ever seen anything like it in Jamaica?”
“No, ma’am, I have never seen anything like it—it is very beautiful.”
“It is very beautiful, my boy! but still it will soon be over. But listen, in the Bible it says: ‘Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him.’”
He looked up in her face, and then said with a soft, trembling voice: “Jimmie thinks, that he will soon die, and go to God.”
“Do you think then, that God will receive you?” asked the teacher.
“Yes, surely. You have told us so often, that Jesus, the Son of God, died to save bad boys like me. You have read it to me out of the Bible and all that is in that, is quite true. And you said, that the blood of Jesus can wash away all Jimmie’s sins.”
“Yes, that is so, my boy; hold that fast; we are saved, eternally saved by the blood of Jesus, the Lamb of God.”
He spoke like a little child; but he knew very well that he was a sinner, and that he needed a Savior. ‘The Holy Spirit Himself taught him. Shortly afterwards they were obliged to take him to the hospital. There he lay for several months, wrapped up in flannel. His patience was great, a complaint never passed his lips. The boys nursed him lovingly, and every possible care was taken of him. His Sunday-school teacher visited him regularly, read for him and prayed with him. On a Sunday morning, the 8th of March, the Lord released him from his suffering, and took him to Himself. Shortly before his death, he called the boy, who was taking care of him, to him, and said: “Willie, Jimmie is black, but Jesus has made him white.” The teacher, who had noticed a great change in him the preceding Saturday, came very early in the morning to the Home, but Jimmie had already fallen asleep.
So ended the life of Jimmie. He was just fourteen years of age. The Refuge had proved to be a real refuge for him. There he had learned to know Jesus the true Refuge for the soul, the never-failing Friend.
ML-08/15/1920