A [S)\ AROM a child I had been taught
| =REL that this woild belonged to God,
aad for the very reason that He made
= 1t, and everything in it; but for
the moment, I seemed to have forgotten;
and all because of the roar of planes flying
round and round above the open field north
of The Little House.
Up, and up, and up they would soar,
then down they would drop, turning com-
pletely over from three to five times, and
then up in the sky again, leaving fancy
figures, pretty curlicues, or just a smoke
screen which for the moment hid them
from my sight.
While I realized that all this performance
was a part of the pilot’s training, the noise
of the planes coming with the noise of the
machine guns down on the rifle range, was
decidedly depressing.
Guns and planes and radio commentators
would not let me forget that this nation is
all out for war, and as I thought about it, a
darkness seemed to envelop me and hold
me fast; a darkness which I could not
shake off.
It had been weeks, months, since I had
been able to walk out of doors, and I so
wanted to get out, to run away, to go up in
the woods where all was peace and quiet,
and think this thing out. But wanting is
one thing and going is another. I could not
go, so it seemed to me that I had a per-
Te® m3.8 [LE mission worker was visiting a
2 3 al) large city hospital. Her heart
was saddened by the sight of so
=x much sickness and sorrow, things
she could do so little to relieve. The
thought of the Master's words flashed
across her mind, “I was sick and in prison
and ye visited Me.” Surely these poor
wrecks of humanity were “sick and in the
prison house of death, but what could
she do?
As she passed down the hallway she met
the head nurse, who stopped her and said,
“Miss Northcut, will you stop in at room
twenty-one and see what you can do for the
little boy you will find there? He was run
over by an automobile and badly hurt. I
am afraid he will not live long, and even the
doctor has given up all hopes of his re-
covery. We cannot locate any of his rela-
tives. Perhaps he has none,—just a little
street waif. We can get no response from
him, but perhaps you can; will you try?”
Miss Northcut assured her that she
would do her best, and with a prayer on her
lips for divine aid she hastened to room
twenty-one. Softly she opened the door and
entered. The tense, quiet figure on the
white hospital bed made no move to show
he recognized her presence. What could she
say that would arouse his interest? She
stepped lightly to the side of the bed and
bending over the child repeated quietly:
“For God so loved the world, that He gave
His only begotten Son, that whosoever be-
lieveth in Him should not perish, but have
everlasting life.”
She waited almost breathlessly for some
SIXTEEN
Page
My Father's
World
By Martha E. Warner
fectly good reason to indulge in a bit of
self-pity.
Just as I was getting nicely started, a
knock came at the back door, and before I
could answer it, the door opened and a
little black-eyed girl danced in. Holding
out her tightly closed hand she commanded,
“Guess what I have for you?”
Remembering the stones that accumu-
lated upon the back porch from time to
time, I guessed, ‘“ Another pretty stone?”
“No. Guess again,” she told me.
“Well, then, it must be some candy;”
while inwardly I groaned at the thoughts
of the numerous times that a none-too-
LIGHT
By Lois HossrFreLp
In the dense darkness
Light will glow.
Even in the desert
Flowers grow.
Though the way is narrow,
Never fear.
Though the tempest linger,
Hope 1s near.
Man was ne’er forsaken.
Though he trod
Ways of stn and evil—
There was God.
God 1s always watching
Through the night.
Though there yet 1s darkness,
God ts light!
| Never
Thanked Him!
By Ruth Lees Olson
sign that the boy heard her, but only
closed eyes and motionless lips met her
anxious gaze. Could it be that he was
dead? She placed her hand upon his lips.
There was a faint breath. Again she be-
sought the dear Lord who loved this bit of
broken humanity better than His own Son
to send her help, and awaken the lad to a
realization of what she was saying.
She laid her lips close to the boy's and
clean little hand had in the past brought me
many a piece of sticky candy.
“No, no, no!” she cried, as she opened
her hand, disclosing three heavenly-blue
forget-me-nots!
“Oh, Marjorie!” I exclaimed. “How
lovely! And you brought them all the way
for me?”
“Yes,” she answered. “Daddy said I
could. I found them in the pasture lot.
I'll go hunt for some more for you.” And
off she went.
As I paused for a moment at the open
door, to my mind came these words, “A
little child shall lad them.” And I needed
to be led, oh, so much.
True, the planes were still roaring over-
head, but the sun was shining. The air was
redolent with perfume, and in the apple
tree a big fat robin was challenging me to
“cheer up, cheer up.”
As I listened the darkness lifted, dis-
appeared, and into my heart came the
assurance that never, never, never could
war black out the sun, the moon, or the
stars. And always just so long as time
would last, somewhere on this old earth,
there would be little children, and flowers,
and birds that sing. For
“This vs my Father's world,
O let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God 1s the Ruler yet.”
sald, oh, so slowly, stressing the words
“whosoever believeth: “ For God so loved
the world, that He gave His only begotten
Son, that whosoever believeth—there was a
pause— ‘in Him should not perish, but
have everlasting life.” Suddenly the eye-
lids parted, big brown eyes looked into her
own, and a weak voice said, hesitantly,
“ And-I-never—-thanked—Him.” There
was a fluttering sigh and then—silence.
The head nurse came into the room and
found Miss Northeut kneeling beside the
hospital bed with one hand clasping the
hand of the little waif, who “never thanked
Him,” because he d'd not know about
Him.
The nurse laid her hand gently on the
head of the sorrowing woman. ‘ Never
mind grieving for him. He 1s much better
off. He was only a street urchin and never
had a chance.” Miss Northeut rose to her
feet and wiped her eyes. “Perhaps so, but
he has a chance now and has accepted it,
for the God who so loved the world that He
gave His only begotten Son, has accepted
him and promised him a home where there
will be no more pain, neither sorrow nor
suffering, and the little bruised, broken
body did thank Him for the sacrifice.”
I wonder if we ever really thanked Him
for John 3:16? The whole gospel is em-
bodied in that verse, and too often we re-
peat it glibly, without a thought of what it
really means. However, “A little child
shall lead them,” and perhaps the story of
this little street urchin may teach us to be
more thankful to God for the wonderful
gift of His Son.
The WATCHMAN MAGAZINE