Chapter XII: "he Careth for You."

AS soon as Mary Dayál had left, Rámpál Singh and his daughter began to think what means they could take for helping her, for they believed in "doing" as well as "praying."

"Shall I go and see my uncle," suggested Shushila, "and see what he advises? He knows Mark Dayál and his wife, and will know better than anyone else what is the best thing to do."

Rámpál Singh quite approved, and so, accompanied by the faithful Anandi, Shushila started for the house of her uncle Harnáth Singh, who was the pastor of the Hindustáni Church in this city.

It did not require much argument to enlist his sympathy with Mary Dayál and her family, and greatly did he rejoice to hear that one of his flock had received such great spiritual blessing. He advised waiting a few days to see whether the runaway husband would return, or send his wife any news of his intention. But in the meantime, he would be making all inquiries with regard to finding means of help.

When Komela, Shushila's aunt, joined her husband and niece, she was able at once to throw some light on the subject.

"It was only yesterday," she said, "that Miss Elsemere came to ask me if I knew of any truly Christian woman who could take charge of a small school she is opening for Hindu girls. She said, 'It must be one who will do this work for "Christ's sake," and not merely for the sake of a salary. I "cannot" ask anyone to take a share in our Lord's work who does not really love Him and wish to serve Him.'"

Shushila hastened to reassure her aunt on this point, and they all agreed that nothing would be so likely to strengthen the faith and warm the love of one who had so lately found Christ herself as to teach others about Him.

"Whether her husband returns or not, it will be well for her to have this work to do," said Harnáth Singh; "so the best thing will be to let Miss Elsemere hear of her at once, then she can go and see her."

"I am so glad," said Shushila, with a beaming face; "it seems as if God knew of the need which was coming and had prepared the supply beforehand. It will be a proof to Mrs. Dayál of what she may expect now that she has learned to know God and trust in Him."

"Yes, indeed," answered her aunt, "she will soon find what a difference it makes when we give up ourselves and all that concerns us into God's keeping, and know that our heavenly Father cares for us. But now tell me about your little blind Hira; I have heard nothing of her for some days."

"She is a strange child," answered Shushila, "and very difficult to understand. She is at the same time 'so' naughty and 'yet' so 'good.'"

"How do you mean?" asked Komela.

"I mean," was the answer, "that in some ways she is more naughty than most children. She will not do anything unless she chooses, and as for telling lies, she thinks nothing of it. But at the same time, she loves to hear about God and our Lord Jesus, and though she has been learning such a little while, it is quite wonderful how much she knows and remembers. I cannot understand what has come over her to-day; she has been sitting in the quietest corner of the house, and even when I called her to eat, she would not come, so I just left her alone."

"The more I hear of her," said Komela, "the more it seems to me that God Himself sent her to you, and that He has a work for you to do in training her, and then some special work for her to do. You will need much love and patience to accomplish your task, but I feel sure that it will not be in vain."

"I just love to have her," said Shushila warmly, "in spite of her naughtiness. I love her dearly, and her love for me quite makes up for any trouble I have. Most of all, I want you to pray that she may truly receive Christ into her heart, for until she does, I cannot think that it is right for her to be called by His name. I do not think she wants it either, for she seems quite to understand that there must be a great change in her before she can be a Christian."

"Would that all knew as much as this blind child!" said Komela earnestly. "Then there would not be so many bearing Christ's name and yet bringing dishonour on Him."

The day after this conversation, as Mary Dayál was busy in her house, there came a knock at her door.

For a moment, her heart beat faster; could it be that her husband had returned? Quickly, she went to unfasten the chain, and then saw that it was not her husband, but an English lady, who was standing there waiting for admittance.

Mary knew Miss Elsemere very well by sight, and had met her more than once. But this was the first time she had come to her house.

She was at once asked in, one of the broken chairs dusted for her, and then Mary waited to hear what was the cause of this unexpected visit.

She very soon felt at ease with her visitor, who spoke so kindly, and sympathised so warmly in her husband's absence, though she never said a word which implied that she knew why he had gone, or that he was in any way to blame.

Very soon she introduced the subject which was in her mind. She was just about to open a school for Hindu children, and wanted someone to take charge of it. Having heard of Mrs. Dayál, she had come to ask her about it.

For a moment, Mary was almost too much overcome to answer. Had the answer to her prayer come so quickly as this? It seemed almost too good to be true. Her heart was too full to say much, and if Miss Elsemere had not already heard her story, especially the spiritual part, she might almost have doubted whether this very silent, grave woman would be a suitable teacher for bright little girls.

When all arrangements had been made and she was just leaving, a little glimpse was given her into the heart of the one who, she trusted, had been chosen of God to be a fellow-worker with her in His service.

With tears in her eyes, Mary Dayál said earnestly, "It seems to me that it was God Himself who put it into your heart to ask me to do this work, and if so, He will help me to do it, though it may be difficult at first."

Miss Elsemere pressed her hand warmly as she answered, "We may be quite sure that God never gives us anything to do in our own strengths; in all our times of need, His word to us is, 'My grace is sufficient for thee.' I am sure you will find it so."

As soon as she was alone, Mary Dayál gave thanks for the light which had shone upon her path. Glad as she was to know that her children would be provided for, she was most glad to have this proof of her heavenly Father's care, and of His readiness to hear and answer His children's prayer.

Then there came to her mind that other petition, offered at the same time, that her husband might not only be brought back to her, but also be made ready to meet God.

If one had been granted, then why not the other also? So with strengthened faith, the wife determined that she would not grow weary, though she might have to wait many days to see the desire of her heart granted.

But there was something else for her to do besides pray; the prospect of so soon beginning to teach others about God made her realise how very little she knew herself.

The Bible, which had been for many days so little read and never studied, was now often in her hands, and as she sought for food to feed others, she was fed herself.

"It is a perfectly 'new' book," she said one day to Shushila. "I used to read the words, but they did not mean much to me; now it is just as if God Himself is speaking to me, and the words go right into my heart. I would rather give up anything than this book, though I have had it all these years, and cared little for it."

Shushila answered earnestly, "Is not that because it contains God's message to His children? As long as we do not know Him, we do not care to listen, but as soon as we know our heavenly Father and love Him, we listen to hear what He will say to us."

"If only I had known all this before!" said Mary with a sigh. "What a difference it would have made to my life! Now I feel that it has been wasted and spoiled."

"Yes, indeed," answered Shushila, "you have missed what alone makes our lives worth living. But do not be too sad; now you have given your life to God, He will make it new again according to His will; and after all, 'this' life is only just beginning—our real, perfect life we shall live with God."

That evening, the three younger children had gone to sleep, Mary was reading, and Reuben preparing his lessons for the next day.

Suddenly the boy looked up from his books. "Mother, tell me what it all means. Why has my father gone away like this? And why do you read so much and seem so different? It seems to me as if something has happened, and yet I do not know what."

Mary smiled at her boy's perplexity as she answered, "Yes, something very wonderful has happened, Reuben, but I do not know whether you will understand if I tell you."

"Why, mother, of course I will; you forget how old I am," said the boy with an air of importance; "please tell me."

Then the mother answered, "Reuben, this is what has happened: I have been trying to live my life without God, but lately my heart became so hungry that I could not stay away from Him any longer. The Lord Jesus has put away my sin and so brought me to God."

The boy looked surprised, for he had not expected such an answer. It seemed so strange to hear of heavenly things from the lips of one who had always been so taken up with the things of earth.

He had himself learnt much in school, but his mother was the last person to whom he would have thought of speaking of what was in his heart. His class in Sunday-school had at one time been taught by the pastor's son, Harnám Singh, and young though he was, he had not forgotten his teacher's earnest words; and this fact remained clearly impressed on his mind, that to belong to Christ and serve Him was the greatest honour to which anyone could attain.

When the teacher had had to be separated from his class, he had given to each of the boys a card, on which was printed the words, "If any man will serve Me, let him follow Me; and where I am, there shall also My servant be."

This card Reuben kept among his special treasures, and as often as he looked at it, he would say to himself, "When I am a man, I am going to serve Christ."

He had not yet learnt that "any man" means anyone, even a boy of ten years old. He felt glad as he listened to his mother's words, and after a while, said thoughtfully, "It will not matter so much that my father has gone away if God has come; He will take care of us."

The mother then told her son how that care had already been shown, but she added, "Although God is with us and caring for us, yet we must ask Him to bring your father back, for we want him too."

Already the faithful wife had forgotten all her husband's failings, and only longed for his return.

The Alms-house Inmates.

CHRISTMAS EVE was terribly cold, the snow fell fast, and the wind howled round the alms-houses, making the inmates shiver and draw nearer to their firesides. In the first house lived old Mrs. Lunn, or Beckie as she was commonly called, and when the wind blew more fiercely, she spread her old wrinkled hands to the blaze and said reverently,—

"I thank Thee, Lord, for all my comforts. Here I have a home and fire
and many kind friends, while there are others who are hungry and alone.

"I wonder," added the old woman, "how Nancy is next door; she'll feel the cold terribly, and she always is in pain, so she can't help grumbling a wee bit."

Nancy was lying on her bed in the next house, while every bone in her old worn-out body ached. Yet when the bells rang out over the snow, she crossed her hands and whispered,—

"Let me be in heaven next year, dear Lord, and free from pain."

In number three lived Mrs. Peck, a little, nimble, bright old lady, who hopped about on one leg, as bright as a button.

"To-morrow is Christmas Day," she said. "Well, we'll all get something warm from the Squire's lady for sure; may mine be a petticoat, which I need sorely, then I'll be very thankful."

Away at the end of the row, and opposite to the men's houses, a couch was drawn to the window, and a frail, delicate woman gasped her life away.

"On Christmas Day—to meet them all again! Oh, I am ready, dear Lord,
quite ready."

And when the Squire's lady bent over and whispered, "Mary, can you hear me?" the dying woman murmured, "Yes, the angels with their harps ringing over the snow."

When Christmas Day dawned, all the earth was white and beautiful. The old alms people, men and women, walked up to the Manor House, when each one received a present.

"There is one parcel over, ma'am," said the maid, when all the old folks had departed.

"Ah! Yes," replied the lady; "that was for Mary, but she needs no present now, her eyes have seen the King."

By Beckie's fireside sat Nancy, wrapped up warm and comfortable in a new Scotch plaid, and Mrs. Peck was there also, holding her petticoat under her arm.

"It's a wonderful thing, is prayer," she was saying. "I just asked God to let the Squire's lady give it me, and sure enough, I have it—you see."

The Hill above Nazareth.

LOOK at those angry men! You ask, "Whom are they angry with, and what has he done?"

That is the dear Lord Jesus.

Now I will try to tell you why the Jews were angry with Him, and what they wanted to do to Him that day.

Jesus had been baptised in Jordan, and had been led by the Holy Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by Satan for more than a month.

So you see Jesus knows what temptations mean, and He can feel for us.

Well, when Satan had finished all the temptations, Jesus came back to Nazareth, the town where He had been brought up, and when the Sabbath day came, He went, as He usually did, to the synagogue to worship God.

He stood up to read the Bible to the Jews, and then He explained to them how God had sent Him to be the Messiah they were looking for, and how He would bind up broken hearts and make all sorrowful people joyful.

The Jews listened to Him with great wonder, and some of them could not believe that one who had been brought up in their own town could possibly be the Christ.

Then the Lord told them that strangers and Gentiles would believe on Him, if the Jews would not; and after that, they grew very angry and took hold of Him, and thrust Him out of the synagogue and led Him up to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, that they might cast Him down from there.

How sad that they should want to kill the blessed Lord, who had just told them that He would be their Saviour and their Messiah!

You notice in the picture that Jesus did not resist them or seem angry with their cruelty. He was ever patient and loving.

The Bible does not say "how" He escaped out of their hands. It says: "But He, passing through the midst of them, went His way, and came down to Capernaum," and began healing the sick and doing kind things directly to those who needed His help.

Very soon, people began saying all round the country what wonderful things He did.

One day, He entered into Simon Peter's house, and there He found the mother of Peter's wife very ill with a bad fever. They had all seen the wonderful things that Jesus could do, so they begged Him to heal her. So Jesus told the fever to leave her, and she felt quite well all at once, and got up and waited on the Lord Jesus, and did her work as usual.

Soon the heat of the day began to subside, and all the people who had sick people in their houses brought them to Jesus, and the dear loving Saviour laid His hands on every one of them and healed them all.

Let us, like those people at Capernaum, bring all our troubles and sorrows to Jesus; let us kneel down and tell Him what we want most, and believe that He is able and willing to help us, and we shall know that He draws near to us and gives us the blessing which we most need.

The Stay of the Family.

"THE 'Doris' is to proceed to the Cape, Nellie, at once!"

"'What,' mother?"

"To the Cape at once!" repeated her mother slowly.

"Oh, mother! I thought Jim was going to cruise about in the Channel."

She bent over to see the words for herself, and her pretty placid countenance fell. The world would be changed for her if brother Jim were gone out of their life.

Hitherto he had been the one to see after their mother since father's death. His advice had been what had been acted on, his loving wishes had ruled the little home.

Nellie drew her fallen work back to her lap, but there was no more cheerful gossip with her mother, no more remarks as to what Molly and Pollie were learning at school, and how George was getting on at his new place—instead came down over her a blank feeling of dismay. Who would take the responsibility of the home if Jim were gone?

Then her thoughts went back to what she had been thinking of and praying about lately—how she could be more of a comfort to her invalid mother. Was this the opportunity come which she had longed for? But how different from anything she had planned!

Then she looked up and put her hand gently on her mother's arm.

"We shall all try to take care of you when brother is gone," she faltered with quivering lips. "I hoped he'd have come backwards and forwards as he had been doing; but if he goes—" Nellie knelt down hastily by her mother's side and put her head on her shoulder with an unwonted caress—"If he goes, there's always Jesus left," she whispered, "and He will never leave us and never forsake us, mother."

And while Jim was at the war, that was how Nellie became the stay of the family.

HIRA'S QUEST.