?# 
 
 tTHEOLOGICAL SEMmAK^* 
 * Princeton, N. J. ^^=*- 
 
 
 BV 2065 .L576 1850 
 
 The little Jewess ; The 
 ransomed child ; and, Ti 
 
 m 
 
^ 
 
 ^.^-^^-z-t 
 
 ^^h: . ( JjU^^ 
 
 ^^ 
 
 V: 
 
THE LITTLE JEWESS, 
 
 THE RANSOMED CHILD, 
 
 AND 
 
 TIME TO SEEK THE LOED. 
 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 PRESBYTERL\N BOARD Ox^ PUBLICATION. 
 
MATILDA, THE LITTLE JEWESS. 
 
 We should all pity the Jews. They were 
 God's own people. Through them salva- 
 tion came to us. They have no country 
 now. For some hundreds of years they have 
 been scattered over the wide world. They 
 have been ill used and persecuted in almost 
 every land. This very year 150,000 Jews 
 were driven out of Lithuania, by order of the 
 Emperor of Russia, in the depth of whiter, 
 by fierce Russian soldiers. The picture is a 
 representation of this. 
 
 But little children cannot think of so great 
 a number as 150,000. They like better to 
 know the history of one. Here then is the 
 life of one dear httle Jewish girl, who lived 
 and died in another part of Europe. 
 
 (3) 
 
4 MATILDA, 
 
 In the town of S , in Germany, this 
 
 little Jewish girl lived. Her name was Ma- 
 tilda H . When she was nine years old, 
 
 her parents sent her to a Christian school, 
 that she might learn different things that 
 would be useful to her. But they were very 
 much afraid of her learning any thing about 
 the New Testament in the school, so they 
 begged the teacher to give their little girl 
 something else to do, when the other children 
 were having Christian instruction. Matilda 
 was a very obedient child, and she did not 
 wish to do any thing that her parents disap- 
 proved, but she could not shut her ears to 
 what the teacher was saying to his scholars. 
 What she heard, deeply impressed her mind, 
 and she longed to be taught as the other 
 children were. When playtime came, she 
 longed to get among them, for she hoped that 
 they would tell her more of Jesus, but the 
 children never spoke to her about him. Per- 
 
THE LITTLE JEWESS. 5 
 
 haps they did not know and love him for 
 themselves. 
 
 As little Matilda could not get what she 
 wanted from the children, she tried to get 
 into the company of older Christians. She 
 felt great love and esteem for those who loved 
 that dear Saviour of whom she had heard at 
 school. It so happened, that in the same 
 house in which she lived, there dwelt a Chris- 
 tian family, and this family had a pious ser- 
 vant, named Elizaheth. Matilda had not 
 courage to speak to her, but she used to look 
 at her very earnestly, as if she wished to 
 speak. Elizabeth could not help thinking 
 much of the little Jewish girl whose dark eyes 
 so often met hers, and in tender compassion 
 she prayed that she might be led to the Sa- 
 viour. It was a whole year before they 
 spoke to one another. Matilda was the first 
 to speak. She was so anxious that at last 
 she found some excuse to let Elizabeth know 
 
6 MATILDA, 
 
 what was in her heart. Elizabeth could only 
 say a few words to her, but those few words 
 made Matilda wish to hear more, and she 
 went oftener and oftener to Elizabeth, and 
 every time she said, " My dear Elizabeth, 
 pray tell me something about the Lord Jesus." 
 As soon as her playtime was over, she would 
 run away from Elizabeth and return to her 
 parents. She was more obedient and atten- 
 tive to them than ever, but they saw some- 
 thing particular about her. They thought 
 she had heard something at school, and they 
 went to her teacher and again begged that 
 she might not be allowed to hear any thing 
 about the Christian religion. But Matilda 
 was so anxious to be saved, and such love to 
 her Saviour had filled her heart, that no one 
 could hinder her any longer. If her teacher 
 gave her a sum to reckon, that she might not 
 listen, she made haste to finish it. When 
 she had done, she kept her eyes on her slate, 
 
THE LITTLE JEWESS. 7 
 
 that she might not have another sum given 
 her, and then, while the teacher was speak- 
 ing, she Ustened only for the beloved name 
 of Jesus. Every morning she used his name 
 m her prayer, for she began to feel that she 
 could do nothing without him. Every day 
 she went round the house, and listened at 
 at the room-doors to hear whether the Christ- 
 ians were talking of Jesus. When she got a 
 book, she only read it to seek the name of 
 Jesus there, and if she did not find that sweet 
 name, she wept, and would read the book no 
 more. 
 
 Matilda's parents now began to be quite 
 afraid that their little girl would finish by be- 
 coming a Christian. They would not allow 
 her to go to school any more, and her father 
 gave her lessons himself instead. What Ma- 
 tilda felt still more was, that she could not 
 go to church with the other children. She 
 had the comfort, however, of talking to her 
 
8 MATILDA. 
 
 friend Elizabeth. She often went to her, and 
 with tears in her eyes told her that she was 
 to go to school no more. Elizabeth advised 
 her to pray to her Saviour to grant her desire 
 of going to his house, and she told her of his 
 promise, " If two of you shall agree on earth 
 as touching any thing that they shall ask, it 
 shall be done for them of my Father which is 
 in heaven." Matilda was very thankful to 
 hear this, and she asked Elizabeth to pray 
 with her. They agreed to pray together 
 every day that week, that the Lord would 
 incline the heart of her parents to allow her 
 to go to church on Sunday next, and Eliza- 
 beth promised to ask this favour of her 
 parents. 
 
 On Saturday evening, while they were at 
 prayer, the kitchen door opened. It was 
 Matilda's sister who had followed her softly; 
 she called to Matilda in an angry voice, and 
 said, " You shall go with me to our father 
 
THE LITTLE JEWESS. 9 
 
 directly.'^ After dinner, Matilda came to 
 Elizabeth again. Her eyes were red, for she 
 had been crying very much, and she told 
 Elizabeth that she was no longer to be allowed 
 to come to her in the evening. Elizabeth 
 asked her many questions, but Matilda did 
 not like to tell her all ; she did not like to tell 
 that her father had beaten her, and forbidden 
 her to pray. At last Elizabeth made it out, 
 and then Matilda said, " When I told my 
 father what I prayed for, I was beaten much 
 more, but I have come to pray this one 
 evening more, that I may get leave to go to 
 church.'^ EUzabeth advised her to go on 
 praying in her heart, as they had been be- 
 trayed, and her parents were so displeased ; 
 but she said that she could not pray with her 
 any more, nor ask permission for her to go to 
 church. 
 
 Matilda's play-hour was over, and she 
 went away sorrowfully for that time, but in 
 
10 MATILDA, 
 
 the evening she came again, and entreated 
 Elizabeth to pray with her. She said, " I will 
 only stand behind you while you pray." At 
 last Elizabeth consented. Then Matilda 
 begged Elizabeth to come down stairs very 
 early next morning to request her parents to 
 allow her to go to church. Elizabeth said 
 she could not ask them, but Matilda would 
 not give it up. 
 
 Next day was Sunday, and early in the 
 morning Matilda was seated on the staircase, 
 Elizabeth came out of her room, and told 
 Matilda that she had made up her mind not 
 to ask her parents. Matilda began to cry 
 very much. She felt that it was wrong to 
 pray, and then not to do what we could to- 
 wards having our prayer granted. Elizabeth 
 steadily refused. Matilda ventured up to her 
 room three times, and tried to persuade her, 
 but in vain. She turned from Matilda, and 
 went to church alone. Matilda looked after 
 
THE LITTLE JEWESS. 11 
 
 her with tears in her eyes, till she was out 
 of sight, and Elizabeth could not help think- 
 ing of her all the time she was at church. 
 She thought more about Matilda than she 
 did about the sermon. When she returned, 
 she found Matilda again sitting waiting for 
 her on the stairs. She entreated Elizabeth 
 to ask leave for her to go to church in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 Whether Elizabeth would have given way, 
 unless something had happened, I cannot tell, 
 but in the afternoon her master sent her to 
 Matilda's parents to ask for a book. Ma- 
 tilda was still on the watch, and when she 
 heard this, she begged Elizabeth to ask for 
 her at the same time. Elizabeth consented, 
 and they went down stairs together. Ma- 
 tilda's mother came out of her room just at 
 that time, and she gave Elizabeth the book 
 directly. Matilda sat down on a footstool, 
 and said, " Mother, that was not all : she 
 
12 MATILDA, 
 
 wants something more." Then Elizabeth 
 was obliged to say, that it was to ask leave 
 for Matilda to go with her that afternoon to 
 church. Matilda's mother said she could not 
 decide, but would call her father. When he 
 came in, he stood still, looked very angrily 
 at Elizabeth, and turned into a little side- 
 room, without speaking a word. How- 
 anxious poor Matilda must have felt while 
 they waited for him. It was a long time 
 before he came back, and then he said, " Yes, 
 Matilda may go to church." The little girl 
 leaped for joy, and did not know how to ex- 
 press her pleasure that she had not prayed in 
 vain. She went to church with Elizabeth, 
 and as she came back, she said, " Oh, how 
 
 much Mr. D has told us of our dear 
 
 Saviour." 
 
 This was the last pleasure of the kind that 
 poor Matilda had. From that day she was 
 altogether forbidden to talk to EUzabeth, and 
 
THE LITTLE JEWESS. 13 
 
 she was sent every day to visit some Jewish 
 children. One day after six weeks had passed, 
 as Elizabeth was crossing the street, Matilda 
 canght sight of her. She sprang up to Eli- 
 zabeth, and oh ! how delighted they were to 
 meet again! " Dear Matilda !'^ said Eliza- 
 beth, "it will be such joy as this, and much 
 greater too, when w^e meet in heaven, near 
 our beloved Saviour. Then all who love the 
 Lord Jesus in this world will bid us welcome 
 to everlasting bliss ; they will lead us to our 
 heavenly Father's feet, and humbly thank 
 him for all his goodness to them and to us." 
 *'' Oh !'^ said Matilda, " how much I should 
 rejoice if I were only to be seen there.'' 
 "Then," said Elizabeth, " you should pray 
 that your Saviour may soon take you to the 
 place where he dwells." Matilda said, " since 
 the time when we were separated, I have 
 risen early every morning that I might pray 
 in my room without being interrupted. I 
 2 
 
14 MATILDA, 
 
 cannot forget what I have heard of my dear 
 Saviour ; how happy I shall be when I see 
 him r 
 
 One evening in the next week, Matilda 
 came very softly into the kitchen, and begged 
 Elizabeth to pray with her only once more. 
 Elizabeth did so. A few days after, she 
 heard that Matilda was ill. She took some 
 flowers, and asked Matilda's mother to allow 
 her to take them to her. Her mother gave 
 leave, and very pleased was Matilda when 
 she saw Elizabeth by her bedside. Her mo- 
 ther went out of the room, and Elizabeth 
 said, *^ Dear Matilda, do you still think about 
 heaven?" "Yes," said Matilda, "I am 
 always thinking about it, and about every 
 thing that you have told me." " My dear 
 M-atilda," said Elizabeth again, " when you 
 are in the presence of our Saviour, do not 
 forget me." Matilda stretched out her little 
 hand and wept aloud, and Elizabeth wept 
 
THE LITTLE JEWESS. 15 
 
 with her. " No," she said at last, " no, Eli- 
 zabeth, I will surely not forget you." These 
 were her last words, and then she could no 
 longer speak, or understand what was said 
 to her. The mother came in, and when she 
 saw Elizabeth's tears, she asked whether 
 Matilda had offended her. ^' No," said Eli- 
 zabeth, " I am weeping because Matilda is 
 so very ill." The mother would not believe 
 that it was so. She thought that Matilda's 
 illness was very slight, and that she would 
 soon get well ; but when she came to the 
 bedside, she found that Matilda could not 
 speak any more. Four days the little girl 
 remained in this state, and then she died. 
 He whom she loved so much had heard her 
 prayer and taken her to be with him : she 
 was at rest in the arms of her Saviour. 
 
 I think that, after reading this story, I need 
 not ask you to pity the little Jewish children, 
 who are never allowed to see a New Testa- 
 
16 MATILDA, 
 
 merit, or to hear the name of Jesus, though 
 they may be in a Christian land. I will only 
 ask you to think over the pretty verses, which 
 another friend has written for you. 
 
 Scattered by God's avenging hand, 
 
 Afflicted and forlorn, 
 Sad wanderers from tlieir pleasant land, 
 
 Do Judah's children mourn ; 
 And ev'n in Christian countries, few- 
 Breathe thoughts of pity towards the Jew. 
 
 Yet listen, children, — do you love 
 
 The Bible's precious page 1 
 Then let your hearts with kindness move 
 
 To Israel's heritage ; — 
 Who traced those lines of love for you 1 
 Each sacred writer was a Jew. 
 
 And then as years and ages passed, 
 
 And nations rose and fell, 
 Though clouds and darkness oft were cast 
 
 O'er captive Israel, 
 The oracles of God for you 
 Were kept in safety by the Jew. 
 
 And when the great Redeemer came 
 For guilty man to bleed. 
 
THE LITTLE JEWESS. IJ 
 
 He did not take an angel's name ; — 
 
 No, — born of Abraham's seed, 
 Jesus, who gave his life for you, 
 The gentle Saviour, was a Jew ! 
 
 And though his own received him not. 
 
 And turned in pride away, 
 Whence is the gentile's happier lot 1 
 
 Are you more just than they ? 
 No — God in pity turned to you — 
 Have you no pity for the Jew ? 
 
 Go then, and bend your knee to pray 
 
 For Israel's ancient race ; 
 Ask the dear Saviour every day 
 
 To call them by his grace ; 
 Go — for a debt of love is due 
 
 From Christian children to the Jew ! 
 
18 HYMN. 
 
 ONE LANGUAGE AND ONE SONG IN HEAVEN. 
 
 MULTJE TERRICOLIS LINGUiB, C(ELESTIBUS UKA. 
 
 Children redeemed in every place, 
 
 Have heard the gospel sound ; 
 Of every colour, every race 
 
 In every realm around ; 
 Some, though but few, have learned to bless 
 Jesus the Sun of Righteousness. 
 
 The subject of their praise the same, 
 
 His love their sweet delight, 
 In different tongues they praise his name. 
 
 Yet here could not unite ; 
 For children cannot understand 
 The language of another land. 
 
 But when in Heaven the ransomed throng 
 
 Of different nations meet, 
 One voice, one subject, and one song, 
 
 The chorus will complete ; 
 Earth's differing languages be done. 
 The tongues in heaven shall all be one. 
 
THE RANSOMED CHILD. 
 
 The Bechuanas of South Africa are di- 
 vided into many different tribes, such as the 
 Bahurutsi, the Batlapis, the Barolongs, and 
 others. They are all savages, being clothed 
 in skins, living in dirt and poverty, and almost 
 always at war with one another. 
 
 Some fourteen or fifteen years ago, there 
 lived among the Bahurutsi tribe, a poor man 
 and his wife, of whom I am going to tell you 
 a story. The wealth of the savages is in 
 their cattle ; but this poor man had no cattle, 
 so that he was very poor indeed. How he 
 and his wife lived 1 do not know. Perhaps 
 it was by killing game, and coming in for a 
 share of beasts that were taken in hunting. 
 Poor as he was, however, he had two great 
 treasures. These were two little boys, one 
 
 (19) 
 
20 THE RANSOMED CHILD. 
 
 about eight, and the other ten years old. But 
 he was not to have these long. One day, as 
 the little boys were playing in a glen a little 
 way from their home, a party of Matabele 
 warriors came by surprise, and seized the 
 poor boys, and carried them far away. 
 
 These Matabele were a very fierce and 
 powerful tribe. Moselekatse Avas the name 
 of their king, but he had many titles, such as 
 the Elephant, the Lion's Paw, the King of 
 Kings, and the King of Heaven. He was a 
 great warrior, and his chiefs used to rush out 
 upon the peaceful tribes around, and burn, 
 and kill, and lay waste all that came in their 
 way, and return home rich in cattle and 
 slaves. 
 
 The poor father and mother heard of what 
 had befallen their boys ; but what could they 
 do against such a man as the tyrant Mosele- 
 katse or his warriors ? They knew not with 
 whom their poor boys were to be found, or 
 
THE RANSOMED CHILD. 21 
 
 whether they vv^ere even Uving ; though they 
 thought they were not dead, as the jVIatabele 
 had not killed them at the time. Day after 
 day they mourned for their sons, and thought 
 how they might be suffering under their cruel 
 masters. Very dull and desolate their home 
 seemed to be, now that they no longer heard 
 the voices of their boys, and they felt as if 
 they had nothing worth living for when their 
 boys were lost. Thus one long year passed 
 away. 
 
 Mr. Moffat, the missionary, did not live far 
 from the Bahurutsi. He had protected the 
 lives of two of Moselekatse's warriors, and 
 he had a warm invitation to pay Moselekatse 
 a visit. Mokatla, the chief of the Bahurutsi, 
 was very much afraid of Moselekatse, and 
 he thought he would go with Mr. Moffat, 
 and try to make friends with him. 
 
 Mr. Moffat looked at Mokatla's people. 
 They seemed well-fed and well-dressed, and 
 
22 THE RANSOMED CHILD. 
 
 in good spirits, all but one poor man. He 
 looked so poor and so unhappy, that Mr. 
 Moffat pitied him, and tried to find out the 
 reason. It was the father of the boys. He 
 had taken all he had, and followed in Mo- 
 katla's train to see if he could redeem his 
 boys. He had no money nor cattle. He had 
 only some beads and rings such as savages 
 like to wear. He walked two hundred miles, 
 and reached Moselekatse's court. 
 
 When Mr. Moffat arrived, he found that 
 Moselekatse had made great preparations to 
 welcome him. Several days were spent in 
 feasting, and dancing, and merry-making with 
 his warriors and people, in honour of Mr. 
 Moffat's visit. The father knew that this 
 was not the time for him to speak, and he 
 waited till the days of merry-making were 
 over. He took no part in the fun. His heart 
 was heavy and sad. How he longed to see 
 his dear boys I cannot tell. I dare say he 
 
THE RANSOMED CHILD. 23 
 
 slept very little at night, and that he thought 
 these days the longest he had ever spent. 
 
 When the days of feasting were over, he 
 sent in his humble petition to the king, to be 
 allowed to buy back his two sons. He waited 
 some time, and then the chief who had the 
 boys came out, and seated himself near Mr. 
 Moffat's wagon. He was Moselekatse's 
 brother. INIr. Moffat drew near, and looked 
 on. The poor father spread his ragged mantle 
 on the ground, and laid on it a few strings of 
 beads and native ornaments. The proud 
 chief would scarcely look upon these. The 
 father sighed, and drew from his dirty skins 
 a small bag of borrowed beads. The chief 
 looked on them with scorn. The father took 
 off two copper rings from his arms, and two 
 others from his ears, and looked anxiously 
 at the chief; but he only frowned, and an- 
 grily shook his head. The poor man took 
 from his neck the only ornament he had left 
 
24 THE RANSOMED CHILD 
 
 and added that and an old knife to what he 
 had offered for his two sons. The haughty 
 chief would not so much as speak to the 
 father. He went on talking carelessly to 
 those around him, and at last he got up to go 
 away. Mr. Moffat came near, and begged 
 him to have pity on the unhappy father. The 
 chief answered with a sneer, that one of the 
 boys had died of cold the winter before, and 
 that what the father had offered was not 
 worth looking at. " I want oxen,'' he said. 
 " I have not even a goat," replied the father. 
 The chief walked off, and the poor father sat 
 with his head leaning on his hand, and his 
 eyes fixed on the ground, and sighed heavily. 
 He had not known till now that one of his 
 boys was dead. Perhaps the poor little fel- 
 low had died from cruelty or neglect. His 
 other dear son he was not allowed so much 
 as to see. At length, with a heavy heart, he 
 
THE RANSOMED CHILD. 25 
 
 took up his mantle to go. His last hope was 
 gone. 
 
 He did not know that there was one eye 
 which had been looking on him with pity all 
 the time, and that one friend was near to help 
 him. That friend was the missionary. As 
 he was getting up to go, Mr. Moffat spoke 
 to him, and said, " I will try to get back your 
 son." Ah ! how he started at the voice of 
 kindness ! He threw his mantle and beads 
 at the feet of the missionary, and said, " Take 
 these, my father, and pity me." Mr. Moffat 
 told him to keep them for himself. He kissed 
 the hand of his kind friend, and departed, say- 
 ing, " I shall have slumber," or " peace of 
 mind." 
 
 Next day, Mr. Moffat took an opportunity 
 to speak on behalf of the poor man. Mose- 
 lekatse listened to his request, and his brother 
 agreed to sell the boy to Mr. Moffat. Mr. 
 Mofiat took the little boy in his wagon, and 
 3 
 
26 THE RANSOMED CHILD. 
 
 was returning to the town. I wonder what 
 the Httle boy talked about : whether it was 
 about seeing his mother. They came to the 
 foot of a hill, and Mr. Moffat saw some one 
 rushing down the steep at such a rate as to 
 be in danger of falling headlong. Some said, 
 " It is the alarm of war." The wagon-driver 
 said, " It is a woman, either running from a 
 lion, or to save a child.'' Who do you 
 think it could be ? It was the mother of the 
 little boy. How she too had come all that long 
 and dangerous journey I do not know, but 
 what will not a mother's love do ? She could 
 not wait till the father came back. Her heart 
 was too anxious, and the time seemed too 
 long. She heard from some one the news 
 that her son was in Mr. Moffat's wagon. She 
 went up to the top of the hill, and watched 
 till she saw the wagon coming, and then she 
 rushed down the steep. Mr. Moffat was afraid 
 that she would come against the wagon, and 
 
THE RANSOMED CHILD. 27 
 
 he sprang to the ground to stop her in time. 
 She could not speak, but she seized his hands, 
 and bathed them with her tears, and wept 
 aloud for joy. Her boy drew near, and she 
 rushed forward, and clasped him in her arms. 
 Do you not wish that you had been in Mr. 
 Moffat's place then ? 
 
 Dear children, there was One who offered 
 a more costly price for you. You know well 
 whom I mean. He gave his own life to buy 
 you back to your heavenly Father, and your 
 home on high. Do you feel as grateful to 
 him, as this African family did to the mis- 
 sionary ? 
 
28 HYMN. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Lord, wilt thou be our Guide 
 
 Through life's uncertain way ? 
 Wilt thou for every want provide, 
 
 And cheer each cloudy day 1 
 Oh now, while health and peace 
 
 Thy gracious hand supplies, 
 Incline our hearts to own thy grace 
 
 From whence these blessings rise 
 
 Or should thy will ordain 
 
 A life of care and woe, 
 If bitter hours o-f grief and pain 
 
 These youthful hearts must know ; 
 Help us to lean on thee, 
 
 Help us to bless the rod. 
 And in those sorrows may we see 
 
 A Father and a God. 
 
 And if the hand of death 
 
 Shall early lay us low, 
 And thou shalt summon back the breath 
 
 Thy Spirit did bestow. 
 Oh guide us to that land 
 
 Where sin and pain are o'er, 
 And bid us join the ransom'd band 
 
 On Canaan's happy shore. 
 
TIME TO SEEK THE LORD. 
 
 One fine summer afternoon, a large party 
 of little boys and girls assembled in the draw- 
 ing-room of Mrs. P , Red Lion Square, 
 
 Holborn. Their mothers were members of 
 a Maternal Association; and they had brought 
 their children to hear an address from a good 
 minister of the name of Smith. He took 
 for his text, Hosea x. 1.2 : " It is time to seek 
 the Lord." His manner was so kind, and 
 what he said was so interesting, that the 
 children could not help listening to it with 
 great attention. But there was one story he 
 told which made the tears flow from many 
 little eyes, and which I should like you to hear. 
 
 Mr. Smith had gone out one day, and was 
 crossing some fields on his way back to his 
 3* (29) 
 
30 TIME TO SEEK THE LORD. 
 
 home, when he met one of the teachers of 
 his Sunday-school. " Oh ! sir," she said, 
 " I am so glad I have met you. I have been 
 looking for you every where. There is a 
 poor little girl very ill ; and she wants to see 
 you very much." 
 
 "How did you hear of her? and where 
 does she live ?" asked Mr. Smith. 
 
 " I was in Mrs. B.'s shop," said the teacher, 
 "when a woman came in, and said, ^ Do you 
 know where a Mr. Smith, who preaches at 
 White-chapel, lives ? My girl is very ill ; 
 and she will not give me any peace till I find 
 him out. She says she wants to see him di- 
 rectly.' I said I knew where you lived, and 
 I would fetch you. I am very glad I have 
 found you." 
 
 The teacher told Mr. Smith where the little 
 girl lived ; and he went to her directly. It 
 ■was not very easy to find the place, for he 
 had to turn out of the wide street into some 
 
TIME TO SEEK THE LORD. 31 
 
 little Streets, and then into a dirty court, and 
 then into another dirtier and darker stilj. 
 The opposite houses were very near together, 
 and the cheerful sky could not be seen from 
 them. When he found the house, he saw 
 that it was not clean and pleasant, like the 
 houses in which many of my little readers 
 live. The panes of the windows were broken, 
 and stuffed with rags. There were no chairs 
 to sit upon, — only one or two old stools, and 
 the room smelt badly. There were children 
 crying and quarrelling, and a woman, with a 
 loud voice, scolding and swearing at them. 
 Mr. Smith hardly liked to go into so dirty and 
 wicked a place ; but he was a minister of the 
 gospel, and he knew that he ought to be 
 ready to go wherever there was any good to 
 be done. 
 
 The room was so dark, that when Mr. 
 Smith first went in, he could scarcely see 
 about him. As he looked around, however, 
 
32 TIME TO SEEK THE LORD. 
 
 he spied a little bed in the corner. Indeed I 
 ought not to call it a bed, for it was only 
 some straw laid on an old wooden b&dstead. 
 A little girl about thirteen years of age lay 
 upon it. She looked very ill ; and she had no 
 nice blankets and sheets about her — nothing 
 but a piece of dirty sacking as a counterpane. 
 When she saw Mr. Smith, she rose up on her 
 bed, and stretched out her thin hands to him, 
 and said, " Oh ! Mr. Smith, I am so glad to see 
 you : I have been wanting to see you so long." 
 
 " How is this ? I do not know you, my 
 little girl," said Mr. Smith. 
 
 " Oh ! sir — but I know you ! I heard you 
 preach, and I wanted to see you," she said 
 again. 
 
 " Where did you hear me preach ?" Mr. 
 Smith asked. 
 
 " I should like to tell you, sir, if you please," 
 said the little girl : and she began her story. 
 " 1 have been ill for a long time," she said ; 
 
TIME TO SEEK THE LORD. 33 
 
 and one Sunday afternoon I felt weary and 
 ill, and I tried every place in the room, but I 
 could not rest ; and mother said, ' Why can't 
 you sit still ? You had better go out and 
 take a walk.' So, sir, I went out, and I 
 walked down White-chapel, till I was very 
 tired, and I wanted to sit down and rest. I 
 did not like to sit down in the street. Just 
 then I came to a church, and I thought that 
 if I went in there, I should find a place to sit 
 down. It was your church, and you were 
 preaching to the Sunday-school children. 
 The text was : ' It is time to seek the Lord.' 
 I thought, as I listened to the sermon : ^ I am 
 very ill. I get weaker every day. Perhaps 
 I shall die soon. It is time for 7ne to seek 
 the Lord.' So I did seek him, and I hope I 
 have found him : and I am so happy. I 
 wanted to see you, sir, to thank you, and to 
 tell you how happy I am." 
 
 You may be sure that it gave Mr. Smith 
 
34 TIME TO SEEK THE LORD. 
 
 much pleasure to hear all this. He talked to 
 the little girl, and asked her many questions. 
 It seemed as if she had indeed found her 
 Saviour, and as if He had himself taught her 
 by his word and his Spirit, for she had had 
 no one else to teach her. Slie could read ; 
 and she had a little Testament and an old 
 hymn-book ; and she read these very much. 
 Mr. Smith asked a good woman in his con- 
 gregation to visit her ; and she too was much 
 pleased with her. He went again himself 
 very soon, and talked to the little girl for 
 some time. He took up her hymn-book, and 
 found several of the leaves turned down. He 
 read some, and asked her why she liked them. 
 "Because it is just as I feel, sir," she said. 
 They were beautiful hymns, and such as no 
 one could feel who had not been taught to 
 feel them by the Spirit of God. 
 
 I think Mr. Smith saw her a third time, 
 but I am not quite sure. The next time he 
 
TIME TO SEEK THE LORD. 35 
 
 went he saw the Httle bedstead in the corner, 
 but the httle girl was not on it. The mother 
 was in the room, and Mr. Smith turned to 
 her for an explanation. " Well, I will tell 
 you about it," she said. " On Saturday I 
 was peeling potatoes by the window, and she 
 called, ' Mother !' 1 went to her, and she 
 raised herself up in the bed, and put her arms 
 around my neck, and said, ' Mother, I want 
 to speak to you, and I want to kiss you. I 
 am going to die ; but I am so happy. Oh ! 
 mother, do go to hear Mr. Smith preach, and 
 ask father to go, and do let my brothers go 
 to the Sunday-school. Oh ! mother, I am so 
 happy !' She went on so till she was quite 
 tired, and she let go my neck, and fell back 
 on the bed. I went on peeling my potatoes ; 
 and when I turned round, she was dead." 
 
 Mr. Smith was very sorry that he had not 
 been there when the dear little girl died. Two 
 or three day after, he thought that he ought 
 
36 TIME TO SEEK THE LORD. 
 
 to go and see the poor wicked mother, and 
 try to do her good. He found the house 
 shut up, and he knocked and knocked with- 
 out getting any answer. At last a woman 
 looked out of a window in the next house, 
 and asked what he wanted. " I want Mrs. 
 
 ," he answered. "Oh !'' said the woman, 
 
 " you will not find her. The father has been 
 sent to prison, and the mother and children 
 went away in the night, and no one knows 
 what has become of them." Then Mr. Smith 
 felt thankful that God had taken the dear 
 child to be with himself. 
 
 My dear little readers, this little girl had 
 only heard one sermon, but she attended and 
 believed. Perhaps you have heard many 
 without feeling or minding them, or being 
 any the better for them. Yet it is time for 
 you to seek the Lord. 
 
 THE END. 
 
Princeton Theological Seminary Libraries 
 
 1 1012 01173 0738