A silence fell on those assembled, and, marveling at such testimony, Brother Gordon proceeded with the service feeling as if there was little more he could say of one whose deeds thus spoke for her. Loving hands had laid flowers all around the child who had led them. One tiny lassie placed a dandelion in the small waxen fingers and now stood, abandoned to grief beside the still form that bore the impress of absolute purity. The service over, again and again was the coffin lid waved back by some one longing for another look, and they seemed as if they could not let her go.
The next day a good-looking man came to Brother Gordon's house and was admitted into his study.
"I am Winnie's uncle, sir," he said simply. "She never rested till she made me promise to get saved, and I've come."
"Will you tell me about it, my friend?" said Brother Gordon.
"Well, you see, sir, it was this way. Winnie always had been uncommonly fond of me; and so was I of her,"—his voice broke a little—"and I'd never been saved, never felt, as I believed, quite right. Yet I knew her religion was true enough, and a half hour before she died she had the whole family with her, telling them she was going to Jesus, and she took my hand between her little ones and said, 'Uncle John, you will love Jesus and meet me in Heaven, won't you?' What could I do? It broke me all up, and I've come to ask you, sir; what to do so's to keep my promise to Winnie, for she was an angel if there ever was one. Why, sir, we were all sitting with her in the dark, and there was a light about that child as though it shone from Heaven. We all noticed it, every one of us, and when she drew her last breath and left us, the radiance went, too; it was gone, quite gone."
The man wept like a child, and for a minute Brother Gordon did not speak. Within a month the uncle was thoroughly converted, baptized, and a sincere follower of Christ. In the evening after this baptism, Brother Gordon sat reading in his study, thinking of his little child. "It is truly a wonderful record! Would we had more like her. Why do we not help the children to get saved, letting them feel that they are really one with us? We need their help fully as much as they need ours. 'Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in Heaven.'"
—L. C. W. Copyright by B. Wood, 1895.
A CHILD'S FAITH
Johnny Hall was a poor boy. His mother worked hard for their daily bread. "Please give me something to eat, for I am very hungry," he said to her one evening.
His mother let the work that she was sewing fall upon her knees, and drew Johnny toward her. As she kissed him the tears fell fast on his face, while she said, "Johnny, my dear, I have not a penny in the world. There is not a morsel of bread in the house, and I cannot give you any tonight."