Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!
“Swift to the close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see,
Oh, Thou who changest not, abide with me!”
Very sweet were those little childish voices; very sweet were the words they sang. It was a long, long time since Tom had shed a tear; but he did so now. Poor, wicked, lonely Tom! and long after the childrens’ eyes were closed, like flowers, in sleep, as he lay awake, that night, the words came to him, again and again, “Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!”
I told you that none of Tom’s acquaintances wanted to go near him, because he was so bad. Oh, is it not well that God does not feel so toward us, sinners? that He pities us because we are so bad and wicked? and that when every body forsook poor bad Tom, He drew near to him, in the voices of the dear little children, softening his icy heart, as the sun melts the snow? What else could have made Tom willing to linger and to suffer, longer or shorter, as God willed it? What else made him ask old Maggie’s pardon for his oaths and rough words to her? What else could have made him so lamb-like, those two long, painful years, before Death came to set the spirit free, from his worn-out body? None, during all that time, ever heard a complaint from the lips once so full of curses; but often, in the night-time, as the traveler passed the old farm-house, he would stop to listen to these words, from poor sleepless, but happy Tom:
“Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!”
PUSS AND I.
Muff, come here! Don’t stop to clean your paws, that is only an excuse for not minding, you naughty little mischief. Come here, Muff; you need not play with my watch-chain or your tail either. I do not wonder that you dislike to look me in the eye, you are not the first guilty one who has dreaded to look in the eye of the person whom they had wronged. Muff, who jumped upon the marble table and frightened the poor gold-fish, by putting a paw into the glass globe? who went down cellar and lapped milk out of the pan? who jumped on the breakfast-table, and helped herself to beefsteak, before her mistress could get down to table? who flew at the looking-glass-doors of my new secretary, to play with another Muff, who seemed to play with her? who scratched and defaced the rosewood ornaments upon the side of the secretary, with her sharp claws? who took a nap on the velvet sofa, without asking by-your-leave? and, worse than all, Muff, oh, Muff, who stole into my chamber, before I woke, in the morning, and, with one spring, lit on my astonished face, startling me into a headache for the rest of the day? what have you got to say to all that, Miss Muff?