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Shin? on my soul, O Changeless Light!
Illume my earthly bed.
May spirit convoy lead the way
To that bright place In heaven,
Where through Thy grace Thy smile will shine,
And show my sins forgiven.
Selections
? AS A LITTLE CHILD.
Even our remote and peaceful parish is
sharing in the glory and anguish of this cruel
war; and when the postman this morning
brought me a letter from France bearing the
inscription of the censor, I apprehended that it
concerned one of our lads at the front, and I
opened it nervously, foreboding evil tidings
and a recurrence of the heavy duty of break
ing them. It was a long letter, and it was
headed "Red Cross Society," and signed
"Nancy Fleming."
The sight of the lassie's name brought to
my remembrance the worst sorrow I have
known among my folk all these fifty long years
of my ministry at Glenhaven. Nancy was the
niece of William Fraser, a douce farmer and
an elder of the kirk; and when his widowed
sister died in Dundee, leaving her bairn of
three years old unprovided, he brought the lit
tle thing home to Blackcraig. Ilis wife bade
her welcome. Marget had a child of her own,
a lad-bairn some six months older; but she was
a kindly and God-fearing woman, and she took
the little stranger to her heart; and when Wil
liam died a year later she hardly needed his
parting eharge to be "a guide to wee Nancy."
The children were playmates and school
fellows, and Marget spared no pains, by pre
cept and example, to bring them up in the nur
ture and admonition of the Lord. The years
passed, and there was no bonnier or brisker
lass than Nancy in the countryside. Sandy,
too, turned out a fine stalwart lad, and more
and more took his father's place in the man
agement of the farm. Marget 's dream ,vas
it the two should "mak' it up wi' ane anith
er," and have Blackcraig for their own when
she was gone.
And it seemed a likely thing; but it was not
to be. Sandy took up with ill company and
learned their ways. The market-day was a
weekly temptation to him, and in spite of
remonstrances and promises of amendment his
home-coming was aye a sore grief to his moth
er. Nancy was vexed for her sake and his,
and no less, perhaps, for her own. It touched
her pride that she should be "evened" to one
who was the talk of the neighbors. She took
him soundly to task, and repeated provoca
tion wore out her patience until on the eve
of one market-day she bad 3 him understand
that, if he forgot himself, it would be all over
between them. This angered him, and lie went
off next morning in sullen resentment.
That was the last that was seen of him at
Blackcraig, and nothing was learned of him
save that, when the market was over, he had
taken the south train with the price of the
beasts in his pocket. For days and weeks they
waited and hoped for tidings of him, but none
came; and at length the/ despaired. What
had become of him they could only guess. Per
haps he had "gone to America," like so many
others in those days when the craze for emigra
tion was at its height, or perhaps he had en
listed at the castle.
It was a cruel aggravation of their sorrow
that Marget 's heart turned against Nancy. She
reproached the girl for her treatment of Sandy.
It was this, she maintained, that had driven
him away. She should have been patient with
him, and it would never have happened. She
would have married him and kept him right.
It was au ill day for Blackcraig when it saw
her face. She had been taken in a beggar, and
this was her gratitude for all that had been
done for her.
Nancy held her peace, making allowance for
the injustice of a mind distraught, and indeed
misdoubting in her heart that perhaps she had
been overhasty and might be somewhat to
blame. Nevertheless it was hard to suffer the
incessant torrent of reproach, and at last she
could endure it no longer. It was better that
she should depart and remove the offense of
her presence. And so she entered as a pro
bationer in a Glasgow hospital, and left Black
craig laden with maledictions.
In her loneliness poor Marget fell to brood
ing over her sorrow until she sickened, and
week by week her strength ebbed away. Her
heart hungered for her lost boy, and she would
talk of the old days when he and Nancy were
children. One evening, when the end was near,
she told me how every night the bairns would
kneel at her knee and repeat the prayers which
she had taught them, Sandy first and Nancy
next, and then they would say together:
"Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look upon a little child,
Pity my simplicity,
Suffer me to come to thee."
"It was a good prayer," I said, stupidly
enough.
"Ay," she sighed, "it was a gu'd prayer;
but it has gane unanswered ? it an' mony a
\ rayer o' mine that ma laddie wad be guided
in the narrow way."
My faithless heart had no message of con
solation for her ? nothing but empty common
places about the will of God; and she took
her sorrow to the grave.
That was four years ago, and it all came
back to my remembrance when Nancy's let
ter arrived this morning. She told me that at
the commencement of the war she had volun
teered as a Red Cross nurse, and ever since
had been employed in her ministry of mercy
within hearing of the guns. She would tell
nothing of all that she had experienced during
those terrible months, but only of something
which had just happened, and which she
must tell me since I was the only other who
would understand or maybe care. The prev
ious day, just as the evening was closing, a re
lay of wounded had been brought in from
the trenches, and among her charges was one
horribly shattered. He was unconscious, and
the surgeon after a glance shook his head.
"Hopeless!" he said. "Just make him as easy
as you can." She helped where help was
serviceable, and, as soon as she might, hastened
to that pitiful couch. She staunched and
bound the gaping wounds, then smoothed the
matted hair, and washed the mire and blood
from the poor face. Her heart gave a sudden
leap: it was Sandy's facel
She sat down beside him, holding and
caressing the unmutilated hand, and repeating
the old childish endearments; but he lay un
heeding, with fast-closed eyes. She never
stirred from his side but when others claimed
her ministration ; and still he remained motion
less save for a choking breath now and then,
like the flickering out of his scanty life. It
drew near to midnight, and she bent over him
and kissed his brow. "Sandy," she said, "do
ye no mind Blackcraig an' your mither an'
Nancy?" A flicker passed over his face, the
eyelids half lifted, and the lips moved feebly.
She listened and she caught the murmur:
"Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look upon a little child,
Pity my simplicity,
Suffer me ? "
They buried him next day in a field of
France, where little crosses marked the last
resting-place of many a brave Scottish lad ; and
when they asked Nancy what his cross should
bear besides his name, she bade them put :
"Of such is the kingdom of heaven."
Sandy had come home at the last. "I wish,"
wrote Nancy, "bis mother had known."
And I wish that I had understood God bet
ter and believed more bravely in His sure
mercy; for then I might have been His mes
senger to Marget and emboldened her in her
day of darkness to trust where she could not
see, and hope to the end for the grace that
should be brought unto her, and so she would
not have gone down to her grave in heaviness.
May He forgive me all my blindness, my un
belief, my narrow comprehension of His bound
less love in Christ Jesus our Lord! It is
little amends that I can make now, for my
ministry is nearing its close; and therefore I
am setting this down here in the hope that it
may be profitable to my younger brethren who
have yet many sermons to preach, and com
fortable to some of the unnumbered hearts in
our land which are feeling as Marget felt in
these sorrowful days. It is written that "the
promise is unto you, and to yonr children, and
to all that are afar off"; and it is a sure word.
I cannot believe that a child of faith and prayer
is ever finally an outcast from grace. The good
seed is sown in his heart, and though it be
overgrown with weeds and thorns, it remains
imperishable, and it will one day spring up
unto life eternal. Our eyes may never behold
it, but the Holy Spirit works where we can
not see; and my faith is that even in the
solemn moment of the soul's dissolution, when
the world is passing away and the lust thereof,
the accumulations of sin may fall off and the
early faith and love reappear. ? British
"Weekly.
SOME QUESTIONS.
Do you come nearer day by day
To the port where your dreams anchored lie?
Or do you sail farther and farther away
In the angry sea with a sullen sky?
Do you come nearer the Ought-to-be
In the wagon you hitched to a distant star?
Or do you drift on hopelessly,
Content to bide with the Things-that-are?
Are you a Drone or Do-it-now?
A Hurry-up or a Wait-a-while?
A Do-it-so or an Anyhow?
A Cheer-up-boys or a Never-smile?
It's none of my business, that I know,
For you are the captain and mate and crew
Of that ship of yours, but the Where-you-go
Depends on the What-and-how-you-do.
Are you a Yes or a Maybe-so?
Are you a Will or a Quess-you'll-be?
A Come-on-lads or a Let's-not-go?
A Yes-I-will or an O-I'll-see?
It isn't the least concern of mine,
I know that well, but as time endures,
When they thresh the wheat and store the wine.
You'll find it's a big concern of yours.
? Selected.
"I'll sing you a lay ere I wing on my way,
Cheer up ! Cheer up ! Cheer up !
Whenever you're blue, find something to do
For somebody else who is sadder than you.
Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up 1"