Trusting In God's Promises.


"It was a fierce, wild night in March, and the blustering wind was

blowing, accompanied by the sharp, sleety snow. It was very desolate

without, but still more desolate within the home I am going to describe

to you. The room was large and almost bare, and the wind whistled

through the cracks in the most dismal manner. In one corner of the room

stood an old-fashioned bedstead upon which a woman lay, her emaciated

form s
owing her to be in the last stage of consumption. A low fire

burned in the large fire-place, and before it a little girl was

kneeling. She had a small testament, and was trying by the dim

fire-light to read a chapter, as was her custom, before going to bed. A

faint voice called to her from the bed, 'Nellie, my daughter, read the

14th chapter of St. John for your Mother.' 'Yes, Mother,' was the reply,

and after turning the leaves a few moments, the child began. All that

long Winter day that poor mother had been tortured with pain and

remorse. She was poor, very poor, and she knew she must die and leave

her child to the mercies of the world. Her husband had died several

years before. Since then she had struggled on, as best she could, till

now she had almost grown to doubt God's promises to the helpless. 'In my

Father's house are many mansions.' 'I go to prepare a place for you.'

Here the little reader paused, and crept to her mother's side. She lay

motionless, with closed eyes, while great hot tears were stealing down

her wasted cheeks. 'Mother, He has a place almost ready for you, hasn't

He.' 'Yes, my child, and I am going very soon, but _He_ will watch over

you, Nellie, when Mother has gone to her last home.'



"The weeks went slowly by to the suffering invalid; but when the violets

were blooming, they made a grave upon the hillside, and laid the weary

body down to rest, but the spirit had gone to the home which Christ

himself had gone to prepare.



"Years passed away. It was sunny May. The little church of Grenville was

crowded. I noticed in one of the seats a lady plainly but neatly

attired. There was nothing remarkable in the face with its mournful

brown eyes, and decided looking mouth and chin. I ransacked my memory to

find who the lady was. Suddenly a vision of the poor widow came. This,

then, was the little girl, little Nellie Mason. 'We will read a part of

the 14th chapter of St. John,' the minister said. 'In my Father's house

are many mansions; I go to prepare a place for you.' The slow,

deliberate tones recalled me from my reverie, and I looked at Nellie.

Her head was bowed, but I could see the tears flowing like rain."



More

;