Children’s Story

Children’s Story – A Mother’s Voice

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Since the prevailing Indian troubles commenced, an Indian camp was captured, together with a number of prisoners, including squaws, and some half dozen white captives, boys and girls from five to twelve years of age. Word was sent throughout the country, inviting those who had lost children to come to the camp and identify, if possible, their children, as none of them could give any account of who their parents were or where they were taken from, so young were they when they were taken captive by the Indians. Numbers of parents went to the camp—more than there were children—and, of course, many of them returned with heavy hearts at being unable to find their lost ones. Among the number who went hundreds of miles to the camp was a mother who had lost two children several years before—a boy and a girl, one three and the other five years old.

Efforts were made to persuade her not to go; as so long a time had elapsed, it was certain she could not identify her children even if they stood before her. But she could not rest; she must go and go she did. On arriving at the encampment she found the captives ranged in line for inspection. She looked at them first from a distance, her anxious heart pounding in her bosom. But she did not see her children; at least she saw nothing in the group that bore the slightest resemblance to her baby boy and girl, as they had looked when playing about her doorstep. She looked long and steadily at them, as her heart began to sink and grow heavy in her bosom. At last with tears and sobs she withdrew, but when some paces off, she stopped and turned about quickly, as apparently a thought had occurred to her. Drying her eyes she broke forth in a sweet hymn she had been wont to sing to her children as a lullaby. Scarce a word had been uttered, when two of the captives, a boy and girl, rushed from the line exclaiming, “Mamma! Mamma!” The mother went home perfectly satisfied that she had found her long lost children.

This is a true story. Those children, even though they had been separated from their mother for a long time, remembered the tune their mother used to sing to them when they were little and recognized her voice. Because they remembered, they were able to go home with her.

Jesus always puts a song or a word in our hearts when we are faithful to spend time listening to Him. It may be a song like “Jesus Loves Me,” or a scripture verse that you have learned by memory. Philippians 4:13, NKJV is a good one to memorize: “I can do all things through Christ Who strengthens me,” and “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, yes I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10, NKJV. God loves to hear you repeat His Word.

God loves His children more than a mother loves her children, and He always wants you to be able to know Him through song and verse.

The Signs of the Times, August 28, 1879.

Children’s Story – Before the Fact

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Mrs. Lois A. Calkins knew what the historian meant when he said, “The history of the world is the record of man in quest for his daily bread and butter.” When she was growing up in Southern Minnesota with her father very old and feeble, her mother’s health was also poor, and two younger brothers who were not old enough to do much in the way of farm work, their “quest” was quite difficult. Especially with what happened one early autumn.

Clouds of grasshoppers swept down on the entire area and deposited their eggs. A reward was offered for the carcasses of these insects, and many bushels of the grasshoppers were destroyed. But the battle seemed useless. The prospects for the Calkins to have food for the coming year were very, very dark.

“Our family had not been Christians too long before this first real test of faith came to us. We knew that when those eggs were hatched in the spring there wasn’t a chance for any garden to grow. And since we were solely dependent on that little garden for our own food and for some income from the sale of vegetables, we were quite concerned.

“We studied the Bible the best we could. We prayed a great deal about the Lord helping us like He did the people of Bible times. We felt that there was no reason why He wouldn’t help us as much today as He did then. So, in our own feeble way, we tried to claim His promises.”

That spring found every inch of ground crawling with the newly hatched insects. Every farmer within a hundred miles’ radius was infested with myriads and myriads of the destructive pests. All hopes for gardens were given up. Some were planning to move off and give up farming.

“My father hired one of the neighbors to come over with his plow and turn over our garden ground. The neighbor thought we were the most foolish people on the face of the earth.

“ ‘You’re throwing your hard-earned money away,’ he repeated over and over again as he plowed our land.”

The following day the three children, under the supervision of the father, went out into the garden to plant seeds.

“We had to push away the insects that had come right back to the newly plowed ground as we planted the seeds. I must say that almost every time I pushed some seeds into the dirt, I prayed for the Lord to make them grow.

“The grasshoppers were so strange. When they were fully-grown they hopped way up into the air and flapped their wings; it sounded just like hail falling all around us. Then when they were quiet, they would lay in big heaps everywhere, five or six deep.

“All of the farmers around had not planted much. Some none. But those who did plant anything had it immediately chewed to pieces as it first burst out of the ground. An occasional stalk of corn could be seen sticking up here and there, but never more than seven or eight inches tall.

“One day our garden seemed to have turned green overnight. Buds had burst the sod all through the area. I ran out and looked at the growing vegetation. Everything everywhere else was eaten almost as fast as it came out of the ground. But our garden seemed like holy ground!”

The Calkins family spent even more time in prayer after the garden started growing than before. Their prayers were a mixture of petition and thanksgiving. Only the grace and mercy of God would allow these crucially needed plants to grow in the midst of devouring insects. And that is exactly what happened!

“It was so weird. All the leaves on the trees in our yard had been consumed. It was spring and they looked like they were in the midst of deep winter, so bare and lifeless. Yet, the garden was so beautifully green and prosperous. Neighbors and folks from miles and miles away started coming by to look at this strange paradise.”

The Calkins’ farm had a bumper crop that year. Though it does not seem like a gigantic amount in comparison with crops being produced through mechanical assistance, it was overwhelming to them.

“We harvested fifty bushels of beets from a very small patch. There were eighty-three very large squashes that came from just three vines! Everything we planted came up in abnormally large quantities and of the highest quality. The crop was large and excellent.”

The Calkins filled their cellar with the finest vegetables they had ever seen. Neighbors who had been able to set aside some money came to the Calkins to buy produce. They gave a large amount to friends and neighbors who, like themselves, had not been able to save any money for any type of crisis.

“When folks came to our place to get their produce, they would all say that Someone was surely looking after us. Others went so far as to say that it was definitely a miracle. But, one particular neighbor put his finger right on the reason and cause.

“ ‘Calkins,’ he said to my dad, ‘I heard a minister once say that God would “rebuke the devourer” for believing folks. Most of the church folks ’round about these parts feel that this is what has happened. I guess you folks are paying God the tithe.’ ”

“My dad stood to his feet and looked the friend right in the eye.

“ ‘Do you know where the Bible says that if a person pays the tithe God’ll do that … “rebuke the devourer” … like you said?’

“ ‘I think it’s in Malachi, but I’m not sure,’ he said as he made his way to the door, picking up a basket of vegetables on the way, ‘Yeah, I’m sure it’s in Malachi.’

“Needless to say, it wasn’t long after the farmer had left the house that my dad was thumbing through his Bible for the book of Malachi.”

“ ‘I’ve found it! Come here and listen to this,’ he said as he waved us all together around the kitchen table. ‘It’s Malachi 3:10–12. “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse … and prove Me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts … I will rebuke the devourer for your sakes, and he shall not destroy the fruits of your ground. … And all nations shall call you blessed.” ’

“We had another prayer meeting, right then and there. We thanked God for His promise that we had just read. ‘And just think,’ Dad said, ‘He did all this even before we knew that He had already promised to do it!’ ”

W.A. Spicer and Helen Spicer Menkel, The Hand That Still Intervenes, Concerned Publications, Inc., Clermont, Florida, 1982, 37–41.

Children’s Story – Kant and the Robbers

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John Kant was Professor and Doctor of Divinity at Cracow. Kant was a pious man, with a spirit peculiarly gentle and guileless, and he at all times would have preferred to suffer injustice rather than exercise it. For many years he had conscientiously followed his duties as spiritual teacher of the place to which he had been appointed by God. His head was covered with the snow of age, when he was seized with an ardent desire to revisit the scenes of his youth in his native country, Silesia. The journey appeared fraught with peril to one at his advanced age; but he set his affairs in order, and started on his way, commending himself to the care of God. Kant rode slowly along, attired in his black robe, with long beard and hair, according to the fashion of the time. Then he pursued his way through the gloomy woods of Poland, which scarcely a sunbeam could pierce; but there was a light in his soul, for God’s Spirit irradiated it.

One evening, as he was thus journeying along, holding communion with God, and taking no heed of objects beside him, on reaching an opening in the thick forest, a tramping noise was suddenly heard, and he was instantly surrounded by figures, some on horseback and some on foot. Knives and swords glittered in the moonlight, and the pious man saw that he was at the mercy of a band of robbers. Scarcely conscious of what passed, he alighted from his horse, and offered his property to the gang. He gave them a purse filled with silver coins, unclasped the chain from his neck, took the gold lace from his cap, drew a ring from his finger and took from his pocket his book of prayer, which was clasped with silver. Not till he had yielded all he possessed, and seen his horse led away, did Kant intercede for his life.

“Have you given us all?” cried the robber, threateningly. “Have you any more money?”

In his alarm and terror, the trembling doctor answered that he had given them every coin in his possession; and on receiving this assurance, he was allowed to proceed on his journey.

Quickly he hastened onward, rejoicing at his escape, when suddenly his hand felt something hard in the hem of his robe. It was his gold, which,having been stiched within the lining of his dress, had thus escaped discovery. The good man, in his alarm, had forgotten the secret store. His heart, therefore, again beat with joy; for the money would bear him home to his friends and kindred; and he saw rest and shelter in prospect, instead of a long and painful wandering, with the necessity of begging his way. But his conscience was a peculiarly tender one, and he suddenly stopped to listen to its voice. It cried in disturbed tones: “Tell not a lie! Tell not a lie!” These words burned in his heart. Joy, kindred, home, were all forgotten. Some writers on moral philosophy have held that promises made under such circumstances are not binding, and few men certainly would have been troubled with such scruples on that occasion. But Kant did not stop to reason. He hastily retraced his steps, and entering into the midst of the robbers, who were still in the same place, said meekly:—

“I have told you what is not true; but it was unintentional—fear and anxiety confused me; therefore, pardon me.”

With these words, he held forth the glittering gold; but, to his surprise, not one of the robbers would take it! A strange feeling was at work in their hearts. They could not laugh at the pious man. “Thou shalt not steal,” said a voice within them. All were deeply moved. Then, as if seized by a sudden impulse, one went and brought back his purse; another restored the book of prayer; while still another led his horse toward him, and helped him to remount it. Then they unitedly entreated his blessing; and solemnly giving it, the good old man continued his way, lifting up his heart in gratitude to God, who brought him in safety to the end of his journey.

The End

Children’s Story – For Whom Did She Do It?

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Her name was Marie Copeland. “I’m sure I shall be the girl,” she said to herself. “There are more in my basket than in any other girls.”

“How do you get on, Marie?” asked the teacher.

“Oh, finely! I’m sure I shall get the money.”

“Oh, you mean the dollar toward the Indian scholarship?”

“Yes, you know we are all working hard for that, and Mr. Blake offered a dollar for it to the girl whose basket held the most berries in two hours.”

The teacher stood with his hands behind him and watched her a few moments.

“Are you working for the Indian boy or for yourself?” he asked. Marie looked up in surprise and indignation.

“Why, I thought I told you,” she said.

“Yes, you told me,” he answered quietly, and turned away to the other children.

“I told him,” said she, uneasily. “What could he mean?” and again she picked harder than ever. Her cheeks grew a little flushed as the moments went by, but her basket became more and more heavy until Mr. Blake announced the two hours up.

Marie stopped then and turned to join the group who were comparing baskets.

Just in front of her was lame Bessie—a little girl with a sweet, winsome, but just now dirty face. Marie did not like dirty faces.

“Do you think I’ll get it?” asked Bessie, holding up her basket to Marie.

Poor child! Her hands were scratched, her dress torn, her apron stained, but her blue eyes very sweet and honest, as she added: “I can’t generally give things, but I thought maybe I could this time.”

And there were about two dozen berries in her basket!

“Are you doing it for yourself or for the Indian boy?” Marie’s “mindears” heard this echo, although there was no sound.

“Oh, for the boy of course! What a question to ask!” Marie answered crossly, but her lips didn’t move.

“How happy it would make Bessie!”

“Now they are mine; I picked them my own self, and I think I might have the credit! It’s too mean for anything!” Marie’s lips did move this time. “Besides it wouldn’t be honest for Bessie; she didn’t pick them.”

“He said, to the girl whose basket held the most berries”—

“Well, I will not do it!” said Marie.

But she did do it. In less than five minutes the contents of her basket filled Bessie’s. “Oh, could you believe it?” cried Bessie, joy shining through the stains on her face. Marie made no answer, neither did she tell any one else. But the teacher who, with his hands still behind him, watched Bessie’s reception of the prize, turned to Marie and said: “You did it for the Indian boy, and God bless you!”

The End

Children’s Story – The Perfect Helper

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It was wintertime, and Amber was excited! Amber had always lived where it was too warm for very much snow, but now her family was living in Colorado. The ground was white with a thick blanket of snow; better yet, the pond was frozen solid.

Five-year-old Amber had never ice skated before, but the neighbor had given her a pair of ice skates and she couldn’t wait to try them out.

“Mom, can we go to the pond now?” Amber pleaded, on the first bright moonlit night.
“Yes, dear, just as soon as your dad gets home,” her mom answered.

So when Daddy got home they were off to the pond. After lacing up her skates, Amber eagerly stood up on the ice. But in the same moment—Oops!—she was sitting on the ice!

“Daddy!” she cried.

And Daddy was there in an instant to help her. Then, with Daddy’s hand holding hers, he pulled her across the ice. Oh, what fun! She knew her daddy would help her.

During the next few weeks, Amber was back on the ice. And, with her daddy’s help and the help of her other friends, she learned to skate. Soon she wasn’t slipping and falling anymore! All of her daddy’s help paid off. She had finally learned to skate!

Even though Amber didn’t suceed immediately, her daddy was always there to help her get up when she fell. Soon, much to her daddy’s joy, he didn’t have to hold her hand anymore. But do you know who is an even bigger Help? It’s Jesus!

Just like Amber’s daddy, Jesus is always there to help us up when we fall back into a bad habit or when we fail at something we have tried to do. All we have to do is pray and Jesus will put out His hand and help us up. And He doesn’t just pick us up. He helps us not to fall again!

And just like the joy Amber’s daddy had when she could skate on her own, Jesus is even happier when we break some bad habit we’ve had, or repent of some sin and resist the temptation to do it again. The Bible says in Luke 15:10; “There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.”

Never forget that even though we overcome bad habits or sins, we will always need Jesus by our side to help us do what’s right. That’s why Jesus is the perfect helper; there’s nothing He can’t help us do. So when you feel hopeless, remember, Jesus is there. It says in the Bible, “I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.” Hebrews 13:5. And that’s a promise! I’m thankful for that, aren’t you?

The End

Children’s Story – Winifred’s Party

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“O Winnie!” sighed Cousin Esther, “if you wold only be serious a few minutes, and think. It is Jesus who invites you! I have accepted—I am happy; but I want you, and—”

“Don’t bother please, Essie; that’s a good girl!” coaxed Winifred, kissing her cousin. “I will be good, sometime, truly. Just now I want some fun. There’s my party—it’s just too bad you won’t wait for it.”

“I can’t, my dear. I agreed to spend the month with grandmother; you know she is an invalid, and must not be disappointed.”

“But it is really going to be something nice, for this place,” urged Winifred. “It is to be a lawn party, and in the evening the grounds will be illuminated with Chinese lanterns…I shall invite the Thorntons and Ellises, and all the best people.”

Esther listened gravely. “I hope it will be very pleasant, Winnie. Now I must go and pack; will you help me?”

The next day Esther Gordon left her cousin’s elegant home for a quiet visit with her invalid grandparent. Winifred missed her at first, but she soon became so interested in her preparations for her party that she forgot everything else.

A few weeks afterward, Esther received a letter from her cousin. Here is part of it:

“And the party! O Essie, it was a perfect ‘fizzle’ from beginning to end! That is, it was not a success, as I meant it to be. Everything was made ready all right, and the house and grounds were beautiful. But when I gave out the invitations,—do you know, not a one accepted? The Thorntons were going to start to Europe at once. The Ellises were going to Bar Harbor sooner than they expected. Edith Longly had a nervous attack. Well, there was ever so many excuses. Of course I could have given up the party, but I had engaged the caterer, the Chinese lanterns, and the orchestra, and I was bound to go on, anyway. I felt insulted. Most of them could have accepted if they had cared to. Seeing I couldn’t have the people I wanted, I meant to have some, anyway; and so I invited our seamstress and her sister, a couple of teachers I know, a lame boy living near, and a dozen or more whom I knew would accept, and be glad to enjoy such a treat. They all came, and in spite of my feeling so disgusted, I enjoyed it greatly. You see, they all enjoyed it so much I was so sorry I hadn’t planned it for them in the first place. I wish you had been here. Write soon to

Your loving cousin, Winifre.”

Esther answered the letter at once. Part of it was as follows:

“I am sorry if you were disappointed about the party; but I do not believe you were, really, for you enjoyed the guests who came more than those for whom you prepared. Just read a few verses in Luke 14:16-24. Isn’t your experience a perfect parallel to the man in Christ’s parable? Commentators all agree that Christ here represented his own gracious invitation to people to come to him, and receive what he has prepared for those who love him. Don’t you believe he is insulted when his invitations are refused on one flimsy excuse or another? There are those who will accept and enjoy the feast, and those who excuse themselves will be left out. Do, Winnie, accept. You don’t know what you miss!

Lovingly, Esther.”

Winifred read the letter carefully, and with growing astonishment and interest. “I never thought of it in that way before! I wonder if he does feel—insulted! His invitations are beautifully worded, too, and promise so much! Strange I never thought of it—an invitation to be refused or accepted! Which shall it be?”

The End

Children’s Story – The Right Decision

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It was the beginning of vacation when Mr. Davis, a friend of my father, came to see us, and asked to let me go home with him. I was much pleased with the thought of going out of town. The journey was delightful, and when we reached Mr. Davis’ house everything looked as if I were going to have a fine time. Fred Davis, a boy about my own age, took me cordially by the hand, and all the family soon seemed like old friends. “This is going to be a vacation worth having,” I said to myself several times during the evening, as we all played games, told riddles, and laughed and chatted merrily as could be.

At last Mrs. Davis said it was almost bedtime. Then I expected family prayers, but we were very soon directed to our chambers. How strange it seemed to me, for I had never before been in a household without family worship. “Come,” said Fred, “mother says you and I are going to share the bed,” and I followed him up two pair of stairs to a nice little chamber which he called his room; and he opened a drawer and showed me a box, and boat, and knives, and powder-horn, and all his treasures, and told me a world of new things about what the boys did there. He undressed first and jumped into bed. I was much longer about it, for a new set of thoughts began to rise in my mind.

When my mother put my portmanteau (a leather trunk that opens into two halves) in my hand, just before the coach started, she said tenderly, in a low tone, “Remember, Robert, that you are a Christian boy.” I knew very well what that meant, and I had now just come to a point of time when her words were to be minded. At home I was taught the duties of a Christian child; abroad I must not neglect them, and one of these was evening prayer. From a very little boy I had been in the habit of kneeling and asking the forgiveness of God, for Jesus’ sake, acknowledging His mercies, and seeking His protection and blessing.

“Why don’t you come to bed, Robert?” cried Fred. “What are you sitting there for?” I was afraid to pray, and afraid not to pray. It seemed that I could not kneel down and pray in front of Fred. What would he say? Would he not laugh? The fear of Fred made me a coward. Yet I could not lie down on a prayerless bed. If I needed the protection of my heavenly Father at home, how much more abroad. I wished many wishes—that I had slept alone, that Fred would go to sleep, or something else; I hardly knew what. But Fred would not go to sleep.

Perhaps struggles like these take place in everyone’s mind when he leaves home and begins to act for himself, and on his decision may depend his character for time, and for eternity. With me the struggle was severe. At last, to Fred’s cry, “Come on, come to bed,” I mustered courage to say, “I will kneel down and pray first; that is always my custom.” “Pray?” said Fred, turning himself over on his pillow and saying no more. His propriety of conduct made me ashamed. Here I had long been afraid of him and yet when he knew my wishes he was quiet and left me to myself. How thankful I was that duty and conscience triumphed.

That settled my future course. It gave me strength for time to come. I believe that the decision of the “Christian boy,” by God’s blessing, made me the Christian man; for in after years I was thrown amid trials and temptations which would have drawn me away from God and from virtue, had it not been for my settled habit of secret prayer.

Let every boy who has Christian parents, read and think about this. You have been trained in Christian duties and principles. When you go from home do not leave them behind you. Carry them with you and stand by them, and then in weakness and temptation, by God’s help, they will stand by you. Take a manly stand on the side of your God and Saviour, of your father’s God. It is by abandoning their Christian birthright that so many boys go astray, and grow up to be young men dishonoring parents, without hope and without God in the world.

M.A. Vroman, Sabbath Readings for the Home Circle, A. B. Publishing, Ithaca, Michigan, 1905, 29–31.

Children’s Story – Grandmother’s Birthday

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Eighty-three years old to-day! Grandmother Wells leaned back in her easy chair, her poor, crippled hands resting in her lap. For six months she had not left that chair except to be carried to the bed, or the lounge by the window. She was a lovely old lady. Her complexion had retained much of its youthful smoothness and fairness. She had large, tender blue eyes, and a sweet, childlike mouth. Her silver hair was brushed smoothly over her noble forehead. Never was there a sweeter or more uncomplaining spirit than hers, yet she could not always resist the gloomy thoughts that stole over her.

Forty years ago she had buried her husband and now all her children slept by his side. It was several years now since she came to live in the family of her granddaughter, Mary Wilton. She had known many happy days there. Mary and her husband loved her dearly, and as for the children, Grandmother had the next place to Father and Mother in their hearts. When sickness and infirmity came upon her, and she was unable to take a step alone or even straighten her poor bent fingers, they all tried, by a thousand tender ministries, to make those weary hours pass pleasantly for her. But the dear old grandmother, though she strove to be cheerful, could not always drive away the heartache. To minister to others had been the comfort of her life, and now the smallest service was out of her power. Even her knitting must be laid aside. “If I could only feel that I was some little use in the world!” she said to herself mournfully, as she sat in her room that bright June morning. “But I am utterly helpless—and poor Mary; it seems as if she had enough cares already. But is not this a fretful, repining spirit I am showing? Oh Lord, make me cheerful and patient, willing to wait Thy time.”

She closed her eyes and sat quietly musing while a more placid and hopeful expression stole over her countenance. A light tapping at the door aroused her; she opened her eyes and said very cheerfully, “Come in.” The door swung wide open, and in filed the four oldest children, one after another. Herbert, a boy of nine, carried a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a beautifully illuminated text in the other. Six-year-old Mary bore a frosted cake, crowned with a wreath of flowers. Next came dark-eyed Josie, one year younger, proudly displaying his bouquet, and a book-mark of his own making. Little Alice, grandma’s namesake, a curly-haired girl of three, carried a tiny vase filled with flowers. She stepped cautiously, holding the vase in both hands, so as not to spill a drop of the water. “Why, you little dears,” said Grandmother, as the procession halted in front of her. “What does this mean?” Herbert advanced a step, holding up his gifts. He was a delicate, thoughtful looking boy, with something very winning in his ways. He paused a moment to collect his thoughts, and then said:

“Dear Grandmamma, your oldest boy

Gives you a greeting fond this day;

The winter’s snow is on your hair,

But in your heart the flowers of May.

Oh! lonely would our household be

Without your smile and words of cheer;

May God preserve your precious life

And make you long a blessing here.”

“You dear boy!” said Grandma, her blue eyes bright with tears, as he laid his gifts on her lap, and kissed her tenderly. She had no time to say more, for bright-eyed Mary took his place, looking somewhat shy, but very proud of the gift she carried.

‘’Dear Grandmamma, accept this cake

And wreath of flowers for Mary’s sake;

Kind hast thou ever been to me,

May I thy little sunbeam be!

And the sweet lesson thou hast taught

Bear fruit in every deed and thought!”

“Bless you, little darling!” said Grandma, as Mary first deposited her cake on a chair and threw her arms around the old lady’s neck. “You are my sunbeams, all of you. But here is my Josie waiting to speak,” she said smiling. The little fellow laid his gift on her lap, and stood-hesitating a moment. He was a warm hearted, affectionate boy, but very nervous and excitable. “Dear Grandma,” prompted Herbert. “I know it,” said Josie, indignantly, “don’t tell me!”

‘’Dear Grandma, please accept these gifts

With love from little Joe;

If all the love that’s in my heart

In words could … words could …”

“I can’t find what comes next!” hiding his face in Grandma’s lap. Herbert’s prompting only irritated him, and at last grandma said in a soothing tone: “There, dear little man, don’t cry. Some other time you will say it to Grandma, when we are alone together.” Little Alice, at a sign from Herbert, stepped forward, and resting her vase on grandmother’s knee, looked up with her confiding eyes into her face. She had more confidence than Josie; and it was in clear though lisping tones that she repeated her lines:

‘’Thy little namesake offers thee

This vase of flowers and kisses three;

Oh, happy may thy birthday be!”

“You little blossom you!” said Grandma, kissing her rosy cheeks a dozen times. And now Mamma, who had stood smiling in the background all this time, advanced with baby Charley in her arms. “Dear Grandma, baby is too young to repeat verses, but he offers you his mouth for a kiss.”

“Bless his precious heart!” said Grandma, kissing him warmly.

“Did you hear the children repeat their verses?”

“Oh yes, I was standing here all the time.”

“Mom wrote the verses for us,” said Herbert.

“And Bridget made the cake,” said practical Mary.

“And I made the book-mark myself, all my own,” said little Josie, nestling up to Grandma’s side.

“And here’s a little gift from Robert and me,” said Mrs. Wilton.

It was a lovely engraving representing Christian and Hopeful resting in the valley of Beulah. Grandma’s eyes grew moist again as she looked at it. “Oh, how lovely that is! Thank you Mary darling, and Robert both. This is a happy birthday indeed. Why, Robert, are you there too?”

“Good morning, dear Grandmother,” said Mr. Wilton, stooping to kiss her. “You look as bright as the morning itself! I was afraid the children would tire you.”

“No—blessed little souls!—they did me good.”

That night as Grandmother lay in her bed, she said to her granddaughter who was performing some little service for her: “God bless you all for your loving words to-day. It is so sweet to think that I can be some little comfort still.”

“You are the sunshine of our house—one of the greatest blessings God ever gave us!” Grandmother could not answer. But she fell asleep with a smile on her lips, an emblem of her heart.

The Signs of the Times, September 11, 1879.

Children’s Story – Mad Elephants and a Wicked King

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In ancient times Greece was the world power and was ruled under Alexander the Great up until the year 217 B.C.

Alexander had been a mighty conqueror, but died in a drunken stupor. His four generals divided up the kingdom, but they kept fighting and soon only two kingdoms were left, the north and the south each with its own king. Philopater was the king of the south part of the divided Greek Kingdom.

Philopater continued making war against the king of the north and conquered many provinces. On their return home to Egypt, as the army passed through each area that had been defeated, parades were held with much celebration.

The name Philopater means love father, but this king was a very evil man prone to indulging his depraved appetite, alcohol and lewd parties. His military success made him very proud, thinking he could do whatever he wanted.

One of the places he decided to have a parade and celebration was Jerusalem. In spite of the priests doing their best to stop him, he went into the temple and made blasphemous offerings to God on the altar. He boldly attempted to enter the Most Holy Place in the temple, which was out of bounds to everyone except the High Priest who could only enter there on one day of the year—the Day of Atonement. Though at that time, the Jews were mostly not obeying God as they ought, God still honoured His own name and smote the king.

The historian, Prideaux, describes it this way:

“He was smitten from God with such a terror and confusion of mind that he was carried out of the place in a manner half dead.” Humphrey Prideaux, An Historical Connection of the Old and New Testaments, William Tegg and Co., London, 76, 77.

The king did not learn the lesson that God was trying to teach him and added to his pride and wickedness anger against the Jews. He returned to Egypt and attempted to force all the Jews in his country to worship heathen idols. By force and threats he persuaded 300 of them to give up the God of heaven and perform idol worship, which caused them to be excommunicated by the Jewish leaders, thrown out of the Jewish church for breaking God’s commandments!

This action against his new idol worshiping converts made Philopater twice as angry. He ordered that the Jews be caught, chained and brought to Alexandria, his capital. They were placed in a large arena and it was announced that on a certain day there would be a big show performed for the people of his realm; everyone could come and see it.

Wild elephants were brought in that had been treated badly and were fierce and angry. Their drinking water was spiked with something that made them drunk. The day of the big event came to drive the drunken, mad elephants into the arena to kill the poor Jews that were captive there.

Among the captives were some who still loved and obeyed the God of heaven, and these cried to God praying for protection and help. They prayed continually until the terrible day arrived. The king and all his important officers, including many other people, gathered in the big arena to see the show, as if they were going to watch a circus or a hockey game.

The huge doors of the mad, wild elephants’ pen were opened, and the frantic, drunken and powerful beasts rushed out into the arena like an army tank. But something strange happened. Instead of rushing onto the helpless prisoners and stomping them to death, they turned around and began to destroy the arena and attack the people who had come to see the show! Great numbers were killed that day but not a single Jew was harmed.

At the same time, some scary pictures appeared in the air over the arena that really terrified the wicked king and his soldiers. He knew that God was protecting His people who had cried unto Him. Trembling with fear, he ordered the prisoners to be set free and restored them to all of their rights and privileges. It is not known what happened to the elephants.

Did this wicked king learn his lesson after seeing this mighty work of the God of Heaven? Sad to say, he did not. In 213 B.C., he turned on the Jews again and had 40,000 of them killed. Maybe this time there were not any true believers to cry to God, I don’t know. Throughout the rest of his life, Philopater became more and more disgusting until he died of drunkeness and his evil habits. How different his story might have been had he humbled his heart and worshiped the true God of Heaven!

Compiled by P.G. Temple, Adventure Stories from History, Harvestime Books, Altamont, Tennessee, 2008, 46–49.

Children’s Story – How It Was Blotted Out

by

For many years I had been a follower of strange gods, and a lover of this world and its vanities. I was self-righteous, and thought I had religion of my own which was better than that of the Bible. I did not know God and did not serve Him. Prayer was forgotten, public worship neglected; and worldly morality was the tree which brought forth its own deceptive fruit.

But when I married and our boy was growing up, our love for him made us very concerned about his welfare and future career. His questions often puzzled me and the sweet, earnest manner in which he inquired of his poor sinful father to know more about his Heavenly Father, and that “happy land, far, far away,” of which his nurse had taught him, proved to me that God had given me a great blessing in the child.

A greater distrust of myself and a greater sense of my inability to assure my boy of the truth contained in the simple little prayers that I had learned from my mother in childhood gradually caused me to reflect. Still, I never went to church, had not even a Bible in the house. What was I to teach my boy, Christ and Him crucified, or the doctrines I had tried to believe?

One of his little friends died, then another, then his uncle. All these deaths made an impression on the boy. He rebelled against it; wanted to know “why God had done it.” It was hard that God should take away his friends; he wished God would not do it. I, of course, had to explain the best I could.

One evening he was lying on the bed, and my wife and I were seated by the fire. She had been telling me that Willie had not been a good boy that day, and I had reproved him for it. All was quiet, when suddenly my son broke out in a loud crying and sobbing, which surprised us. I went to him, and asked him what the matter was.

“I don’t want it there, father; I don’t want it there,” said the child.

“What, my child, what is it?”

“Why, father, I don’t want the angels to write down in God’s book all the bad things I have done today. I don’t want it there; I wish it could be wiped out,” and his distress increased. What could I do? I did not believe, but yet I had been taught the way. I had to console him, so I said,

“Well, you need not cry; you can have it all wiped out in a minute if you want.”

“How, father, how?”

“Why, get down on your knees, and ask God, for Christ’s sake, to wipe it out, and He will do it.”

He jumped out of bed, saying, “Father, won’t you come and help me to pray?”

Now came the trial for me. The boy’s distress was so great, and he pleaded so earnestly, that I, the man who had never once bowed before God in spirit and in truth, got down on my knees beside that little child and asked God to wipe away his sins; and perhaps, though my lips did not speak it, my heart included my own sins too. We then rose, and he lay down in his bed again. In a few moments more he said,

“Father, are you sure my sins are all wiped out?”

Oh, how my response reacted upon my unbelieving heart, as the words came to my mouth, “Why, yes, my son; the Bible says that if from your heart you ask God for Christ’s sake to do it, and if you are really sorry for what you have done, it shall be all blotted out.”

A smile of pleasure passed over his face, as he quietly asked,

“What did the angel blot it out with? With a sponge?”

Again was my whole soul stirred within me, as I answered, “No, but with the precious blood of Christ. The blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin.”

The fountains had at last burst forth. They could not be checked, and my cold heart was melted within me. I felt like a poor guilty sinner, and, turning away, said, “My dear wife, we must first find God, if we want to show Him to our children. We cannot show them the way unless we know it ourselves.”

And in the silent hour of the night I bowed beside my dear boy, and prayed, “Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief!” My wife, too, united with me, and we prayed jointly for ourselves and our child. And God heard our prayers, and received us, as he always does those who seek him with the whole heart.

Adapted from Sabbath Readings for the Home Circle, by M. A. Vroman, South Lancaster Printing Co., South Lancaster, Massachusetts, 1905, 166–169.