A family in a Southern city went down with yellow fever. It had been raging there, and very stringent sanitary rules were in operation. The moment anybody died, a cart came around and took the coffin away.
The father took sick and died and was buried, and then the mother fell ill. The neighbors were afraid and did not dare to go into the house. The mother had a little son and was anxious about him. She feared that he would be neglected when she died, so she called him to her bedside. "My boy," she said. "I am going to leave you, but Jesus will come when I am gone."
The mother died, and she was laid in the grave. The neighbors were afraid of the disease, so the boy wandered about and finally returned to where they had laid his mother. There, he sat down on the grave and wept himself to sleep.
Next morning the boy awoke and realized his position—alone and hungry. A stranger came along and seeing the little fellow sitting on the ground, asked him what he was waiting for.
"I am waiting for Jesus," he said, remembering his mother's words, and told the man the whole story.
The man's heart was touched, tears trickled down his cheeks, and he said, "Jesus has sent me," to which the boy replied, "You have been a good while coming, sir."
He was provided for, and so it is with us. To wait for results we must have courage and patience, and God will help us.