As I was walking to a gospel meeting, in a dense fog one winter’s evening, I was not sorry to see a light coming towards me in the thickest part of the wood through which my path lay. As it drew nearer, I found it was from a lantern, carried by a little boy of eight years of age, whom I knew, on his way to a children’s meeting.
“It’s pleasant to meet a light this dark evening,” I remarked; “is it your own, John?”
“No, ma’am,” answered he; “it’s my father’s.” And he hurried on, afraid of getting in late.
“That’s a brave little fellow to come so far alone this dark night” thought I. But then, you see, his lantern gave such a bright light that it really was not darkness for him, though it was for me.
I walked on for about ten minutes, and, as I neared the village to which I was going, I met several more little lads, also on their way to the children’s meeting, but it was too dark for me to make out clearly who they were. However, as I passed them, where the light from a distant gas-lamp fell across the figure of the boy who walked first (whom we will call Tom), I could see he was carrying a lantern, much the same as that which guided me through the wood, but this one had no light in it.
“Well,” I thought to myself, “that boy’s lantern is not a bit of good, either to himself or to his companions, and they have to go through the dark wood, too.” They were late already, I knew, and, having no light, they could not hurry along when once they were beyond the reach of the village gas, as John had done.
What do you think made all the difference between these two lanterns, which looked alike? Why, the difference was this— John’s lamp had oil in it, which burned brightly, and Tom’s had none; the only thing that could make it of use was wanting, and he might just as well have left it at home, and saved himself the trouble of carrying it, to say nothing of the risk he ran of breaking the glass against the trees, while groping his way through them.
As I walked on, these two boys with their lanterns set me thinking of a parable, that the Lord Jesus told His followers when He was down here. I expect every little Sunday-school scholar guesses at once which one I mean: the parable of the ten virgins. John, with his bright light, reminded me of the five wise virgins, who had “oil in their vessels with their lamps,” and Tom of the other five, who, though they took their lamps, “took no oil with them.” I am sure you all think Tom was a very silly little boy, and so he was; but I expect he was not so silly as he looked, for no doubt he had lit his lantern before he left home, and did not find out that the wick only was burning, until it was too late to get the oil. Well, Jesus calls these last virgins “foolish,” and when He calls any foolish we know they must be so indeed.
Perhaps all of you children do not know what is meant by the lamp in the parable, so I had better explain that it is the profession of Christianity, which every little boy or girl makes, more or less, who kneels in prayer to God, and who is under Christian teaching. The oil means the Spirit of God, which He gives to everyone who is washed in the precious blood of Jesus.
Now, dear children, you have each got a lamp, but the question I want to bring home to you very solemnly is this, ‘Has your lamp got oil in it, and is it giving a bright light like John’s, or is it dark and useless like Tom’s?’ There is a terrible danger nowadays (when there is so much gospel teaching being given) of people, big and little, getting satisfied with having the lamp of profession, and yet all the time having no oil in it―no life in their souls— and so be but going religiously to hell.
I think we may draw yet another lesson from John’s answer―that the light he carried was not his own, but his father’s. I hope some of my young readers have received “the gift of God,” and so are light-bearers of the Father in heaven. How sweet it would be for you to be lighting your little friends along the way to the bright home above, not being blind leaders of the blind, as poor Tom was to his companions! Perhaps the foolish child with the dark lamp will get more followers than the wise child with the light one, for all naturally follow the bad example far more readily than the good; but never mind, even if alone, all will be brightness around you, if you are yourself walking in the light through this dark world.
We can picture the joy and gladness of those wise virgins as the Bridegroom (the Lord Jesus Christ) welcomes them to His marriage feast, and takes them in with Him, for they are “ready.” Are you ready, dear child? Just think of those foolish virgins who, of course, came in long behind the wise, who had pressed forward quickly in the light of their lamps. You know these last had wasted their time in’ trying to buy for themselves the oil that was not to be bought, many a bruise, and many a fall. One wonders why they ever went forth to meet the Bridegroom; for what was the good of their pretending to go as light-bearers, to welcome Him at His coming, with lamps that were not burning at all? When they got to the gate, ever so late, what did they find? “The door was shut”―shut against all the dark lanterns which their bearers now vainly held up, crying out, “Lord, Lord, open to us.”
Now, children, I beg of you to take their sad story to heart. The Lord Jesus is coming very soon-it might be today―and unless you are bearing a lamp, bright with the Holy Spirit’s light, you have nothing but an empty profession, which will only make your judgment the greater at His appearing.
It did not matter very much if Tom and his friends got late for their meeting that evening, as they stumbled against the trees in the dark wood; but think, dear children, how awful it would be if you were to arrive too late for the marriage supper of the Lamb! Are you only darkly groping your way towards another world, without any light given from above―already on earth treading that darksome path, which must end in the blackness of darkness forever? How terrible it would be if any little boy or girl, who reads this, were to get to heaven’s gate to find it closed in his or her face, and were to hear those dreadful words said, “Verily, I say unto you, I know you not”! D.&A.C.