Fanny said to her father, “Our neighbour Nanny weaned little Charles yesterday, I am sure she would be glad to take this little child.”
S. That is a good thought, my dear; I trust God has reminded you of it. Let us make haste homewards; this poor woman and her child need our help much more than the person we were going to see. Come, my good woman, take courage; try and follow us, and your child will soon be comforted. Fanny, let us go the path-way by the willows, that is the nearest.
As Fanny walked along, she thought about the woman and her child, and felt in some doubt and difficulty. “How is it,” said she to herself; “how is it that God, who is so great, so powerful, and so good, should provide for the spider and the little mouse, but should neglect that little child, so weak and so helpless as not to be able even to ask for what it wants, and should let it be in such a state that it must very soon die! Why did God take away its mother’s milk? It is very strange!” These last words she said aloud.
S. What is so very strange?
Fanny hesitated, and was afraid to tell what had passed in her mind, lest it should be displeasing to God. So she said, “It was something, father, which I do not quite understand; but I will think again about it.”
S. You had better tell me, Fanny; do not be afraid of letting me know what it was. Were you thinking about that little child, and wondering why God appeared to have forgotten it, while He takes care of mice and spiders?
F. (colouring.) I was afraid to say so; but I could not help wondering at it. But I did not think that God was unjust, only I did not understand his ways.
S. There is Nanny coming this way; we will talk again about this subject by and by. Run to her, for you can run faster than I.
Fanny ran like a deer, and told their neighbour all that had happened. Nanny hastened to Samuel, rejoicing that she could be of use. “This is, indeed, providential,” said she; “give me the child, I will treat it as if it was my own. Thank God, my good woman,” said she to the mother: “he who made your child has directed it here; see, it is as well pleased with my milk as if it were your own.”
Rebecca who was the mother of the child, fell upon her knees and clasped her hands together. She wept, but her tears were not tears of bitterness or grief; she was struck with a sense of the unexpected succour she had so providentially received, and she felt pained that she had for a moment doubted the faithfulness of the Lord.