Do we realize the privilege and opportunity that is ours to pray and give and go, to send our money and our sons and daughters, that the children of many Christless lands may learn to know and love and serve the children’s Friend while they are young, and hearts and minds are plastic and teachable? Have we as keen an insight into the great truths of Christian privilege as had the little Chinese girl, who, after being publicly baptized, was asked by her teacher, “Are you glad of the privilege of attending a school where you can hear of the Lord Jesus?” Quickly she responded, “Are you not glad, teacher, that you are in China, where you can teach of the Lord Jesus?”[94] Yes, ours is the greater privilege, and we must see to it carefully that we do not miss any part of the joy that the Master has in store for us. Our own children are so cunning and lovable, so full of wonderful possibilities, and in need of so much care and watchfulness, that it is easy to forget the other children who also need our love and help. In the Saviour’s eyes there is no difference,—He loves and cares for all children. Shall we imitate Him in this respect?
A missionary’s dream.
A weary missionary fell asleep, and as she slept she dreamed a dream. A message had arrived that the Master was coming, and to her was appointed the task of getting all the little children ready for His arrival. So she arranged them on the benches, tier on tier, putting the little white children on the first benches, nearest to where the Master would stand, and then came the little yellow and red and brown children and far back on the farthest benches sat the black children. When they were all arranged, she looked, and it did not seem quite right to her. Why should the black children be so far away? They ought perhaps to be on the front benches. She started to rearrange them, but just as all was in confusion, the children stirring around, and each trying to find his proper place, footsteps were heard, and lo! it was the Master’s tread, and He was coming before the children were ready. Overcome with shame and confusion she hung her head. To think that the task entrusted to her had not been accomplished in time! So she stood while the footsteps drew nearer and nearer, till finally they paused beside her, and she was obliged to look up. And lo! as she did so, and her eyes rested on the children, all shades of color and difference had vanished,—the little children in the Master’s presence were all alike!
QUOTATIONS
A HEATHEN BABY
An English missionary in Swatow, China, heard sounds of bitter weeping by the wayside one night. Looking for its source, he found a heathen woman bowed over a child’s grave, upon which, according to the local custom, lay an overturned cradle.
A heathen baby,—that is all;—
A woman’s lips that wildly plead;
Poor lips that never learned to call