“A black heart!” replied the minister.
“A black heart!” repeated Tom, in doubt of his meaning.
“Yes, my lad. What I mean is a heart blackened by sin. Ah, if folks worried more about that, and less about their looks, how much more sensible it would be!” Then, after a pause, he said,–
“But there is one thing for which we should be very grateful; and that is, that as there are remedies for us when we injure the body, and disfigure it,–as we did our faces, my son,–that can heal the injury, and bring the skin out all fresh and fair, so there is a great Physician, who can heal the hurt which sin has done our souls, and cause them to be pure and white forever. Isn’t that a glorious thought?”
“Yes,” whispered Tom, weeping.
“Yes,” ejaculated the mother, with deep emotion.
“But,” said the minister, “how many of these little folks”–for most of the children had ventured in, and stood listening spell-bound to his recital–“will come to Sunday school next Sunday?” And getting a promise that as many of them would be there as possible, he took leave, saying he hoped to call again soon.
The children’s hearts were taken captive by their clerical visitor. And well it might be so, 63 for he was their true friend. And it mattered little to him that their dwelling was rude and comfortless, their clothing old and worn, and their manners uncultured. He loved them for his Master’s sake, and for their souls’ sake: for this he had left the elegances of his eastern home, and come out into the wilderness. He was a true man, and a true minister of Jesus Christ–seeking not a name, wealth, luxury, the favor of the rich and great, but to bring the straying lambs and sheep into the fold.
“I think we won’t wait any longer for your father,” said Mrs. Jones, after the children had got somewhat over the excitement caused by the missionary’s call; and putting her hand into the oven to take from thence the plate of cakes, she looked in to see why she did not find them, exclaiming,–