Part 22 (1/2)
HOW A POOR LITTLE CRIPPLE CONVERTED A VILLAGE.
Mr. D.L. Moody relates the instance of a poor little cripple, whose prayers were answered to the conversion of _fifty-six people._
”I once knew a little cripple who lay upon her death bed. She had given herself to G.o.d, and was distressed only because she could not labor for Him actively among the lost. Her clergyman visited her, and hearing her complaint, told her from her sick bed she could pray; to pray for those she wished to see turning to G.o.d. He told her to write the names down, and then to pray earnestly; he went away and thought of the subject no more.
”Soon a feeling of religious interest sprang up in the village, and the churches were crowded nightly. The little cripple heard of the progress of the revival, and inquired anxiously for the names of the saved. A few weeks later she died, and among a roll of papers that was found under her little pillow, was one bearing the names of fifty-six persons, every one of whom had in the revival been converted. By each name was a little cross by which the poor crippled saint had checked off the names of the converts as they had been reported to her.”
PLEASE G.o.d, GIVE US A HOME.
Mr. Moody tells of a beautiful answer to the faith of a little child.
”I remember a child that lived with her parents in a small village. One day the news came that her father had joined the army (it was the beginning of our war), and a few days after, the landlord came to demand the rent. The mother told him she hadn't got it, and that her husband had gone into the army. He was a hard-hearted wretch, and he stormed, and said that they must leave the house; he wasn't going to have people who couldn't pay the rent.
”After he was gone, the mother threw herself into the armchair, and began to weep bitterly. Her little girl, whom she taught to pray in faith, (but it is more difficult to practice than to preach,) came up to her, and said, '_What makes you cry, mamma, I will pray to G.o.d to give us a little home, and won't He_?' What could the mother say? So the little child went into the next room and began to pray. The door was open, and the mother could hear every word.
_”'O, G.o.d, you have come and taken away father, and mamma has got no money, and the landlord will turn us out because we can't pay, and we will have to sit on the door-step, and mamma will catch cold. Give us a little home_.' Then she waited as if for an answer, and then added, '_Won't you, please, G.o.d_?'
”She came out of that room quite happy, expecting a home to be given them. The mother felt reproved. G.o.d heard the prayer of that little one, for he touched the heart of the cruel landlord, and she has never paid any rent since.”
G.o.d give us the faith of that little child, that we may likewise expect an answer, ”_nothing wavering_.”
”OF COURSE HE WILL.”
Mr. Moody also gives the story of a little child whose father and mother had died, and she was taken into another family. The first night she asked if she could pray, as she used to do.
They said, Oh, yes! So she knelt down, and prayed as her mother taught her, and when that was ended she added a little prayer of her own: ”_Oh, G.o.d, make these people as kind to me as father and mother were_.” Then she paused, and looked up, as if expecting an answer, and added, ”_Of course he will_.”
How sweetly simple was that little one's faith; she expected G.o.d to ”do,” and she got her request.
STRIKING ANSWER.
The following incidents are specially contributed to these pages by Rev.
J.S. Ba.s.s, a Home Missionary of Brooklyn, N.Y.:
”While living in Canada, my eldest daughter, then a girl of ten years of age, rather delicate and of feeble health, had a severe attack of ch.o.r.ea, ”St. Vitus's dance.” To those who have had any experience in this distressing complaint, nothing need be said of the deep affliction of the household at the sight of our loved one, as all her muscles appeared to be affected, the face distorted with protrusion of the tongue, and the continuous involuntary motions by jerks of her limbs.
The ablest medical advice and a.s.sistance were employed, and all that the sympathy of friends and the skill of physicians could do were of no avail. She grew worse rather than better, and death was looked to as a happy release to the sufferings of the child, and the anguish of the parents; as the medical men had given as their opinion that the mind of the child would become diseased, and if her life were lengthened, it would be an enfeebled body united to an idiotic mind.
”But G.o.d was better to us than our most sanguine hopes far better to us than our fears.
”In our trouble we thought on G.o.d, and asked his help. We knew we had the prayers of some of G.o.d's chosen ones. On a certain Sunday morning I left my home to fill an appointment in the Wesleyan chapel in the village of Cooksville, two miles distant. I left with a heavy heart. My child was distressing to look upon, my wife and her sister were worn out with watching and fatigue. It was only from a sense of duty that I left my home that morning. During the sermon G.o.d refreshed and encouraged my heart still to trust in him. After the service, many of the congregation tarried to inquire of my daughter's condition, among them an aged saint, Sister Wilson, widow of a Wesleyan preacher, and Sister Galbraith, wife of the cla.s.s-leader. Mother Wilson encouraged me to 'hope in G.o.d,'
saying 'the sisters of the church have decided to spend to-morrow morning together in supplication and prayer for you and your family, and that G.o.d would cure Ruth.'