THE sun shone brightly on a group seated outside a cottage door. The central figure was Anne, a widow, bearing evident marks of recent suffering.
Sitting beside her were her two children. Poor Anne was industrious and honest, and worked hard to provide for her children; but sickness had overtaken her, and her scanty savings were gone before she was sufficiently recovered to work again.
The last of her money had been spent for bread, and she was about to give her darlings the last piece. Anne wept bitterly as she cut it in two. One half she gave to little Henry, who was only four years old, and, notwithstanding his mother’s grief, he took it joyfully. The other half she gave to his sister, a pleasant-looking girl of eleven years, who saw the tears that fell; and, putting her arms lovingly around her mother’s neck, said, “Why are you crying so, mother? I cannot eat the bread when I see you so sad.”
“My poor child,” she replied, “my heart feels very much troubled, for what shall I give you tomorrow?”
“O, mother,” said the little girl, “God will take care of that!”
The mother sighed.
“Don’t you trust in Him now? You always used to!”
“O, yes, my child; but my cares are so heavy. Poor children! when you wake tomorrow, and are hungry, I shall have nothing to give you!”
“But, dear mother, cannot God send us some bread before tomorrow? Our Sunday school teacher told us only last Sunday of His kindness, and of the many different ways in which He helps us. He also told us we should never despair, because that was sin; and then he opened his Bible at the place where it is related how the Jews murmured against God in the desert, fearing they would starve, and not willing to believe that God would take care of them. And God was angry at them. Mother, shall I read you the story once more? Perhaps it will make you happier when you hear it!”
The mother stroked the fair hair of her little girl, nodding assent, though her heart was still sad, and her eyes were filled with tears. Mary ran into the house to get her Bible, found the place at once, and sat down to read to her mother.
“O, God does not now work miracles!” said the mother.
“But why not, mother? Is He not just as mighty now as He used to be?”
Mary sat down at her mother’s feet and began to read. Widow Anne folded her hands, the tears rolled down her cheeks while listening to the wonderful help which the Lord sent to His murmuring people. Gradually her sorrow grew less bitter, and she felt as if a weight had been taken from her heart. Yes, she was God’s child, and He could help even her, as well as those poor Israelites. The thought filled her mind, and with a brighter face she listened. Even little Henry had come real quietly and nestled down beside her. It was indeed a sweet picture to see that mother with her children learning from the Lord.
A young man who was just emerging from the woods stood still with speechless delight. He gazed for a moment at the group, and then took a black book and pencil out of his pocket, and began to sketch. Not one of the small family had noticed him. Mary’s eyes were resting on the Bible, the mother was occupied with her own heart, and the little boy followed his sister’s eyes, that shone brighter and brighter the longer she read. Still and motionless they sat there; and the artist, for such the stranger was, could work on without disturbance until Mary had come to the end of the chapter; then, looking at her mother, she said, “Cannot God still send us bread, honey, and quails?”
“Yes, my child,” she replied, and drew her to her bosom; “with God all things are possible.” Her heart was again trusting in the Lord, and gratefully she kissed, her little girl.
But these caresses did not suit the artist. He had just been sketching the figure of the reading child, and was interrupted in his work. Hastily he ran to her, took hold of her arm, and said, “O, please, please, just remain quiet for another moment!” The mother, as well as the children, were startled, and looked at him. They did not understand what he wanted. But he, seeing their astonishment, and taking a new silver coin out of his purse, said, “I am an artist, and should very much like to have your picture in my book, just as you were sitting before. I have begun it already. I give you this piece of money, and shall add a second one if you remain quiet for an hour; then I shall have finished my sketch. Will you do so to please me?”
The poor family stared at him, not knowing what to reply. Then the mother pressed her hands against her heart, and hot tears, but this time tears of joy, filled her eyes. Had not God sent them bread as it were from heaven? And on Mary’s beaming face the same thought might have been read.
“Mother, mother,” she whispered, “is not God good?”
Then she allowed the artist to place her again on the old trunk of the tree at her mother’s feet, where she again took the Bible and put it on her lap. But as he said, “Read, as you did before; it will be best so,” she opened it at Psalm 118, and read:
“O, give thanks unto the Lord; for He is good: because His mercy endureth forever.” The artist could now complete his picture. Before the hour had passed, he showed it to them, and at the same time put down the second piece of money.
They would now have enough to buy food to last for more than two weeks, and by that time she would be strong again and able to work. O, how she prayed, and how she thanked God!
Thus God’s care for the widow and the fatherless was shown; thus her faith was strengthened, and their needs supplied. Thus He cares for His own—those who put their trust in Him.
Now, dear children, those of you who know the Lord Jesus as your Saviour, let your trust in Him be simple, as Mary’s was, for He has said, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. So that we may bodly say, the Lord is my helper.” (Heb. 13:5, 65Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. 6So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me. (Hebrews 13:5‑6).)
Unsaved reader, what a loss is yours, to miss the acquaintance and friendship of such a God, for time and for eternity!
ML 02/25/1917