THERE was once a little boy who went into a church-yard to look at the tombs; and, as he walked about, he began to measure the size of the graves, to see how big they were. He found that many of them were less than himself. When he saw this, he was much afraid, and began to say to himself, “If I should die soon, and be laid there, what would become of me?”
Now, I am going to tell you of a little boy, now lying in the church-yard, whose grave is shorter than most of you; and if you should be taken away as early as he was, what will become of you? He was ready to die, for his hope was in Jesus Christ, his Saviour; but are you as ready as he was? Often did he say how glad he would be to depart and “to be with Christ, which is far better.” And often did he speak about Enoch, that holy man, whom God took to himself, and wish that like Enoch, he might walk with God, that God would take him too. Would you, then, my dear children, like to die as soon, and be with Christ, or to remain in this sad, sinful world? This good little boy, of whom I am going to tell you, thought it far better to be with his Saviour in heaven; and one day when he came home from school he told his mother how the teacher had been saying to the scholars how well he would like to see them all when they were grown up: “But, mother,” said he, “I’ll never be big; and I would’nt like to be big; I would far rather die and go to God.”
John Ross was born in Glasgow on the 17th of February 1828. He seems to have been one of those whom the Holy Ghost sanctifies from the womb, for before he was two years old, he began to show how much he thought about God. One day, after family-worship at his grandfather’s house, he got hold of the Psalm book, and, laying it upon his knees, began a sort of scream as if trying to imitate the singing in which the family had been engaged. When asked what he was doing, he answered in the imperfect way of a child so very young, “Me singing to God; high, high up there: holy, holy God.” Another time, when about the same age, his mother was teaching him the words which say,
“God sees when children dwell in love,
And marks them for His own.”
At hearing these words he stopped, and said: “Will God mark little children like me for His own?” His mother told him that God would do so. “Oh, happy, happy Johnny,” he said, “if God would mark him for His own.”
At another time, when he was a little older, he was out with his mother in the street, at a time when they were in great poverty. A gentleman, as they were passing, happening to let fall a half-penny, little Johnny looked eagerly at it, and the gentleman allowed him to pick it up and keep it. As soon as he had passed, Johnny said: “Mother, was you praying as we were walking along?” “What makes you ask that?” said his mother. “Because,” said he, “that half-penny came from heaven. It was God that sent it. He saw it in the gentleman’s pocket, and He said, ‘That half-penny is for Johnny,’ and so the gentleman could not lift it.” Now, does not this show how little Johnny, although he was scarcely five years old at that time, had learned to put his trust in God as His heavenly Father, and to know that everything came from Him alone? Have you learned this?
As he grew older, this work of God’s Spirit in his heart became more remarkable. In all that he spoke and did, he showed that, young as he was, he had become a new creature in Christ Jesus. He was not only free from the outward sins which are common amongst children, but he could not bear the idea of offending God. On one occasion he said: “It’s just like to break my heart to see people sinning against God.” On another, he came into the house much agitated, and evidently in great distress. His mother asked him if anyone had been hurting him. He answered: “Oh, mother, they’ll let none of the Persons of the Godhead alone; as I came along the street just now, I heard a person swearing by the Holy Ghost.” Though he was of a happy, cheerful, contented disposition, he would often seem sad for some time after hearing people swear on the street. On these occasions he would take his pencil and write: “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty.” If he found a piece of paper on the street with God’s name upon it, he would lift it up and fold it carefully and bring it home. And often he would say, “How grieved am I to see His holy name despised!”
Oh, how sweet a thing were it for us to learn to make our burdens light, by framing our hearts to the burden, and making our Lord’s will a law!—Rutherford.