The Speech of A Child

“Ah, Lord GOD,” I said, “I surely do not know how to speak, for I am only a child!” Jeremiah 1:6

       These words were spoken by the prophet Jeremiah. God had called him to carry His message to the people of Judah, and Jeremiah felt he was not fit for the task. It was a very sad message he had to take. He had to tell his fellow-countrymen that unless they turned away from their wicked ways they would bring their country to ruin. It was a very terrible message, a very solemn one, and a very unpopular one, and Jeremiah felt quite unable to carry it. He loved his country dearly, and it hurt him dreadfully to have to foretell its doom. Besides, he was very young - little more than a lad. So when God asked him to go he replied, " I cannot speak: for I am a child."
       Now I wonder if you have ever felt like Jeremiah ? Not that you have a sad message to carry, but you want to do some good in the world, you want to help somebody, and you feel that you can do so little because you are just a child. So you say sadly, "I cannot speak: for I am a child." Do you know that you are making a great mistake? A child can do a great deal more than he imagines - if only he is willing.

1.) If you cannot speak you can smile, and a smile sometimes works miracles in driving away gloom, in dispersing the clouds of worry or even of angry and bitter thoughts that sometimes darken the minds of other people.
       There was a man once who sat thinking black thoughts. He was planning to do a very wicked deed. His little child ran into the room. It was too wee even to speak, but it just toddled up to his chair, laid its chubby hands on his knees, and laughed up into his face. And the black thoughts vanished from the man's mind. They could not live beside that baby smile. He rose up a new man and he stayed a new man from that day forward.

2.) And if you cannot speak you can be. What do we mean by that? Just by being a child, true and pure and good, you may work wonders in the world.
       In one of the towns on the Continent they hold every year on the 28th of July a Feast of Cherries. On that day the town is thronged from morning to night with children dressed in white and waving branches of cherry trees, and when night falls they feast on the cherries which they have been carrying during the day. If you asked any of the inhabitants why that feast was held they would tell you this story.

       In the year 1432 the town was laid siege to. The general commanding the besieging army demanded the instant surrender of the town and refused to make terms with the inhabitants. He would not even consent to sparing their lives should they surrender. For a week the people held out, but their provisions ran down and they were starving. Then one man had an idea. He suggested that all the children in the town between the ages of seven and fourteen should be dressed in white and sent into the tent of the general to plead for their own lives and the lives of the inhabitants. It was decided to carry out this plan, and there must have been many sad hearts among the fathers and mothers that night.
       Next morning the gates of the city were opened and a long procession of children streamed out and made their way into the camp of the enemy. They found the general's tent and fell on their knees begging for mercy. Although the general was a fierce, cruel man he was so touched by their innocence and their courage, and so moved to compassion by their pale, pinched faces that he granted their request. Then he ordered food and fruit to be brought, and finally gave the command that each child should be presented with a cherry branch from the gardens near and sent back into the city to carry the good news.
       So the children by their innocence and helplessness accomplished what the grown-ups could not do, and every year, as the anniversary of the brave deed returns, the town still keeps its Feast of Cherries.

3.) Lastly, if you cannot speak you can do. To very few is given the gift of eloquence, but we can all speak by our lives. And, boys and girls, that is going to count much more than any gift of tongues. By a little deed of unselfishness here, by a little bit of self-denial there, by being loving and kind and thoughtful for others you can do much more than if you had "the tongues of men and of angels."
       Do you know how God answered Jeremiah? He said, "Say not, I am a child: for to whomsoever I shall send thee thou shalt go, and whatsoever I shall command thee thou shalt speak." Then He touched the prophet's mouth as a sign that He had given him the gift of eloquence.
       If you will let God touch your lives, then they will speak eloquently for Him, and all that they say will be beautiful and good. Hastings

What The Bells Say...

 “The gold bells and the pomegranates are to alternate around the hem of the robe." Exodus. 28: 34

       More than tow hundred years ago a sailing , ship far out on the sea, a hundred miles from shore, heard the sound of church bells. It was Sunday morning and the bells were ringing, calling people to church. They seemed to say:

“Come when I call,
Both great and small.”

       At first those upon the vessel thought it was only fancy, for they were far from shore. There was only one place on the ship where the bells could be heard and that was before the bulging main sail, and there the sound of the church bells could be clearly heard, calling, calling, to worship and prayer.
       Months passed and the vessel one day sailed into the port of San Salvador and on inquiry the sailors learned that at the exact time when the bells were heard upon the ship far out at sea, the church bells of the cathedral were ringing. It was a great mystery to the sailors, but it is easy for us to understand. In our day when we know how easily the air carries the voice over land and sea we can understand how the sound of the bells could be caught by the bulging sail.
       What a pleasing sound it is to hear the call of the “church going bell. In old England where every village church has a bell you will find each of them has a motto graven in the metal. Some of these mottoes are interesting. Here is one that says:

Boarder
Bells

“Come away,

Make no delay.”

        Another says:

“Come and pray,
Hear and obey.”

      Sometimes the bell is vain and the motto reads:

“I am a pretty bell,
That you all may see.”  

       And sometimes the bell is modest and sensitive and sometimes they tell the praises of those who made them:

“Our merry bell is mainly due
To Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Carew.”

       Here is a complaining and grumbling motto:

“Our tone would have been made deeper
If contributions had been greater.”

       What strange messages for church bells! Some of them are vain, some foolish, some selfish. A church bell should send out one clear note. It should say, like the bells of Bath,

“Let Christ be known around,
And loved where’er we sound.
Then shall true joys abound.
Before Him lowly fall,
Where’er we lift our call
And praise Him Lord of all ”

       There is one bell, a very little bell, that rings sometimes very quietly and sometimes sounds a loud alarm and we can never get away from its sound. Do you know its name? Yes, it is Conscience. Sometimes it rings a merry, merry tune, and sometimes it sounds a warning. The teacher examining a Sunday School said, “Who can tell me what Conscience is?” One of the big boys said, “It is too big a word for me.” Then the teacher said, “Did you ever feel anything inside you that said, ‘Do this.' ‘Shun that.' ‘You ought to have done this.' ‘You should not have said that’?” “Oh, yes,” said George, “that is Jesus ringing a bell in our hearts.” And George was right. Better than the call of the church bell in the steeple is the call of Conscience which is the voice of Jesus, guiding us in ways of pleasantness and in paths of peace. Kerr

The Greatest Cradle in The World

 “The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land.'' Psalm: 95: 5

       Cradles are out of fashion in these days. Babies are no longer in need of cradles. They need, not cradles, but cold dark silent rooms, perfectly good old fashioned beds, and to be left entirely alone to think and to meditate and not to cry.
       Somehow I like the old way. I know it's not the best way, but still it is best for song and story and when you come to think of it, nature too, likes a cradle and has no idea of giving up to our new-fangled modern notions.
       What is a beautiful valley lying between hills and mountains but a cradle, soft and green, in which sleep fields of golden grain and pretty villages, and what are the trees of the forests and the streets but cradles, rocked by the wind. You remember the lullaby song:

“Rock-a-bye baby
In the tree top,
When the bough bends
The cradle will rock.”

       But the greatest cradle in the whole wide world is the sea. The deep, dark, boundless sea is the  greatest cradle in the world. The very first bed God ever made was the sea and there the first life was cradled. What a cradle it is! How great it is! It rocks from East to West, from shore to shore, and ships and islands and continents sleep in it. You know what the old song says:

“Rocked in the cradle of the deep
I lay me down in peace to sleep;
Secure I rest upon the wave,
For Thou, O Lord! hast power to save.
I know Thou wilt not slight my call,
For Thou dost mark the sparrow’s fall;
And calm and peaceful shall I sleep,
Rocked in the cradle of the deep.”

       How cold it is! The icy waters of the far North and of the far South slip down into its depths. How deep it is! You could never reach down into it with your arms. The highest mountain in the world could lie down in it and be lost from sight. How heavy is its covering! I suppose that is because it is so cold. Do you know if you were to lie down at the bottom of this great cradle you would have to carry about 250 tons of watery bed covers. Think of that!
       Away down at the bottom of the deep, cold cradle of the sea, it is dark and still. There is no noise there, no light ever gets down into that quiet chamber. Occasionally a little animal with a little phosphorescent light passes by to see that all is well and then everything is dark and silent again.
       And yet down there in that great cradle of the sea little animals live and thrive, fed by the sea dust that filters down from above, for the sea is God’s cradle and even there God cares for His creatures. In one of the Psalms we read:

“If I take the wings of the morning,
And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;
Even there shall thy hand lead me,
And thy right hand shall hold me."
If He cares for the fish of the deep, deep sea, will
He not care for us?

       There is no place in all the world where God cannot come to His children. When a great hero of the sea was caught in a terrible storm and all the crew was in a panic of fear, He calmly said, “We are as near God on the sea as on the land.” How true! And, after all, the greatest cradle in the world is not the trees of the forest, or the great deep silent sea, but the arms of our Heavenly Father. Where in the Bible will you find it said that “The Eternal God is our refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms”? Kerr

Planet Earth is a cradle for God's people.

An Evening Song

AN EVENING SONG

How radiant the evening skies!
Broad wing of blue in heaven unfurled,
God watching with unwearied eyes
The welfare of a sleeping world.

He rolls the sun to its decline,
And speeds it on to realms afar.
To let the modest glowworm shine.
And men behold the evening star.

He lights the wild flower in the wood.
He rocks the sparrow in her nest,
He guides the angels on their road,
That come to guard us while we rest

When blows the bee his tiny horn.
To wake the sisterhood of flowers,
He kindles with His smile the morn,
To bless with light the winged hours.

O God! look down with loving eyes
Upon Thy children slumbering here.
Beneath this tent of starry skies,
For heaven is nigh, and Thou art near.
 

Deeds of Kindness

 DEEDS OF KINDNESS

Suppose the little cowslip
Should hang its tiny cup.
And say, "I'm such a little flower,
I'd better not grow up."
How many a weary traveler
Would miss the fragrant smell?
How many a little child would grieve
To miss it from the dell!

Suppose the glistening dew-drop,
Upon the grass, should say,
"What can a little dew-drop do?
I'd better roll away."
The blade on which it rested,
Before the day was done.
Without a drop to moisten it,
Would wither in the sun.

Suppose the little breezes
Upon a summer's day,
Should think themselves too small to cool
The traveler on his way:
Who would not miss the smallest
And softest ones that blow.
And think they made a great mistake
If they were talking so?

How many deeds of kindness
A little child may do.
Although it has so little strength,
And little wisdom, too.
It wants a loving spirit.
Much more than strength, to prove,
How many things a child may do
For others by his love. 

The Beautiful Works of God

THE BEAUTIFUL WORKS OF GOD

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small.
All things wise and wonderful, -
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings.
He made their glowing colors.
He made their shining wings.

The tall trees in the green wood.
The meadows where we play,
The rushes, by the water.
We gather every day, -

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips, that we may tell
How great is God Almighty,
Who doeth all things well. 

A Dead World

“Who is this who looks down like the dawn, beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, awesome as an army with banners?”  Song of Solomon 6:10

       The other day I was visiting a little friend who had been ill for fourteen long months, through two winters and one summer. He had gone to bed near Christmas and had been a little invalid all that year, and through the next Christmas. His name is Frederick. He has a sister just his own age to the very day, and her name is Florence. Florence went to school and learned to write and add and subtract and do other queer things. Frederick stayed in bed, kept very quiet and read. He was only seven, but he read all sorts of books, and when he could not read others read to him, his nurse, his father, or his mother, or Billy or Betty, and he came to know a lot of history and science and fairy tales.
       One day when I was telling him about the big world outside, and the coming of spring with its buds and leaves and flowers he chuckled and said, “Some day this world will be just like the moon.''What do you think of that? What did he mean? I thought perhaps he had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson who said that:

“The moon has a face like the clock in the hall
It shines on thieves on the garden wall.”

       Then I thought perhaps it was Mother Goose he was thinking of:

“The man in the moon
Came tumbling down
And asked the way to Norwich.

He went by the south
And burnt his mouth
With supping cold pease-porridge.”

        I soon knew, however, that he was not thinking about fancies and fairies, but about facts, and I said, “Why do you think so?” “Well,” said he in a wise sort of way, “don’t you know the moon is dead and some day this world will be dead just like the moon.” Of course I knew that. Everybody knows that. The moon is dead. Nothing lives in the moon. Nothing ever happens there. No storms, no lightning, no noise, no dust, no twilight, no blue sky, nothing happens in the moon. There is no life, no air there, and the sky is as black as ink. It has no weather. It is a dead world.
       No wonder “the man in the moon has a crick in his back. Whee! Whim! Ain’t you sorry for him?” Perhaps this is why people have always thought the moon harmed people and made them go out of their heads, as we say. Do you remember the Psalm that says, “The sun shall not smite thee by day nor the moon by night?” You can have a moonstroke, as well as a sunstroke. All dead things are bad, and a dead world like the moon may have a bad influence on people, especially on young people who stay out late at night. 
       I said, “Yes, the moon is dead, a dead, dead world, but how beautiful it is and how wonderful it is at night. How is that? If it is dead how is it so full of light?” And I repeated the verse:

“Moon, so round and yellow,
Looking from on high,
How I love to see you
Shining in the sky.
Oft and oft I wonder,
When I see you there,
How they get to light you,
Hanging in the air.”

        Then Frederick turned over and said with a laugh, “Don’t you know? Why, it’s the sun that makes the moon beautiful. The moon is dead, but the sun shines on it, and makes it shine.” And then I thought that we, too, are something like the moon, sort of dead and dull and useless, until Jesus, the great sun of our life, shines upon us and lights up our lives. The only way for us to be bright and useful is to have Jesus shine upon us. If we stay near Him we will be like Him.
       Frederick is well now and lives out in a real live world and some day when I see him I am going to preach this story-sermon to him and then read and explain to him this sermon-story in rhyme:

“A Persian fable says: One day
A wanderer found a lump of clay
So redolent of sweet perfume,
Its odors scented all the room.
‘What art thou?’ was his quick demand;
‘Art thou some gem from the Samarkand,
Or Spikenard in this rude disguise,
Or other costly merchandise?’
‘Nay! I am but a lump of clay
‘Then whence this wondrous sweetness—say?’
‘Friend, if the secret I disclose,
I have been dwelling with the rose!”

        Perhaps that verse of poetry is rather hard for little children to understand, but its meaning is very simple. It means that just as a piece of clay which has no sweetness in itself may become fragrant by being in the same place with a rose, so we too may become sweet and lovely by living in the presence of Jesus. The sweetness of the rose sweetens the clay, and the love and beauty of our Lord make us kind and sweet also. I am sure Frederick will understand both the story and the sermon. Kerr

Teach Us To Pray

 TEACH US TO PRAY

Teach us to pray
Oh, Father! we look up to Thee,
And this our one request shall be,
Teach us to pray.

Teach us to pray.
A form of words will not suffice, -
The heart must bring its sacrifice:
Teach us to pray.

Teach us to pray.
To whom shall we, Thy children, turn?
Teach Thou the lesson we would learn:
Teach us to pray.

Teach us to pray.
To Thee, alone, our hearts look up:
Prayer is our only door of hope;
Teach us to pray.

The Dove's Visit

 THE DOVE'S VISIT

I knew a little, sickly child.
The long, long summer's day.
When all the world was green and bright,
Alone in bed to lay;
There used to come a little dove
Before his window small,
And sing to him with her sweet voice,
Out of the fir-tree tall.

And when the sick child better grew,
And he could creep along,
Close to that window he would come,
And listen to her song.
He was so gentle in his speech,
And quiet at his play,
He would not, for the world, have made,
That sweet bird fly away.

There is a Holy Dove that sings
To every listening child, -
That whispers to his little heart
A song more sweet and mild.
It is the Spirit of our God
That speaks of him within;
That leads him to all things good,
And holds him back from sin.

And he must hear that "still, small voice
Nor tempt it to depart, -
The Spirit, great and wonderful,
That whispers in his heart.
He must be pure, and good, and true;
Must strive, and watch, and pray;
For unresisted sin, at last,
May drive that Dove away.

Dust

 “in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." Genesis. 3:19

       The Bible tells us very plainly that our bodies are made of dust. God made man out of the dust of the earth and breathed into him the breath of life. We do not like to think we are made out of dust. We like to think we are made out of sunshine and rainbows, and if there is any dust about us, it must be golden star dust.
       I heard once of a dear old Scotchwoman who had always refused to have her picture taken. Many old ladies, you know, are stubborn, especially Scotch old ladies. Her family, however, urged her to have her photograph taken so they could send it to one of her sons who lived in America, and she consented. When the first proof was received she looked at it long and silently and then without a word set out for the studio. “Is that me?” she said to the photographer. “Yes, madam,” he said. “And is it like me?” she added. “Yes, madam, it is a speaking likeness.” Then said the old Scotch woman, “Well, if that's so, it’s a humbling sight.”
       We laugh at the dear old lady, for we know she was wrong, for there is nothing lovelier in the world than just a fine, sweet, thought-ennobled face of a mother or a grandmother.
       And what a wonderful thing dust is! It is alive with mystery before which wise men dream and wonder. To a wise man who knows, “the very dust is dear.” It is a living thing, and out of it the world has been made, and scientists tell us that we owe our beautiful sunsets and our refreshing rain to the dust that floats in the upper air.
       We are apt to think the only value dust has is to make work, but it is not so. Dust is useful. A great scientist once wrote a book which he called “The Wonderful Century.” The Wonderful Century was of course the nineteenth century which includes all the years between 1800 and 1900. In this book he wrote about some of the marvelous things discovered during those years and one of the chapters is about Dust, and among other things he said, “It is doubtful whether we could even live without dust. To the presence of dust we owe the clouds, the mists, the rains.” If it were not for the dust instead of soft showers and refreshing rains we would have water spouts and terrible torrents. It all seems strange, but true things are often strange, and sometimes little things are really big things.
       A great man by the name of John Ruskin once took a handful of mud from the road of a great city. It was just a handful of dirty dust moistened with water. This wise man then divided the mud into four parts, clay, soot, sand, and water. Then he told the people who were listening to him that if the clay were left alone for thousands or millions of years it would, under certain conditions, become a beautiful sapphire. The sand, he said, in the same strange way would be changed into a precious opal. The soot, the blackest of things, would in time become a brilliant diamond and the water could easily be changed into a pearly dewdrop or a snow crystal.
       God can change the meanest thing into a priceless gem, and He can so transform us that we can become like Him. We are made of the dust of the field but we are also made in the image of God.

“Life is real; life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal!
‘Dust thou art, to dust returnest
Was not spoken of the soul.”

       The Apostle John said: “Beloved, now are we children of God, and it is not yet manifest what we shall be. We know that, if he shall be manifested, we shall be like him; for we shall see him even as he is.” Kerr

Spiritual Blessings

SPIRITUAL BLESSINGS

Almighty Father! Thou hast many blessings
In store for every loving child of Thine;
For this I pray, - Let me, Thy grace possessing,
Seek to be guided by Thy will divine.

Not for earth's treasures, - for her joys the dearest,
Would I my supplications raise to Thee;
Not for the hopes that to my heart are nearest,
But only that I give that heart to Thee.

I pray that Thou wouldst guide and guard me ever;
Cleanse, by Thy power, from every stain of sin;
I will Thy blessing ask on each endeavor.
And thus Thy promised peace my soul shall win.

"Thou, God, Seest Me."

"THOU, GOD, SEEST ME."

Thine eye is on me always.
Thou knowest the way I take;
Thou seest me when I'm sleeping,
Thou seest me when I wake.

Thine arm is round about me,
Thy hand is underneath 
Thy love will still preserve me,
If I Thy laws do keep.

Thou art my present helper, -
Be Thou my daily guide;
Then I'll be safe for eve,
Whatever may betide.

Oh ! help me, dearest Father,
To walk in wisdom's way,
That I, Thy loving child, may be
Through every future day.
And, by my loving actions, prove
That He who guardeth me is Love.