Cashing in the Promises

Into my jungle dispensary one morning many years ago there came a little old grandma. She waited till all the patients had been attended to, then came slowly forward, but seemed unable to say just what she wanted.

"Do you have fever, grandma?" I asked encouragingly.
"Oh, no! no! it's not that," said grandma.
"Maybe sore eyes?"
"Oh, no! no! it's not that."

"Ah, then maybe it's ringworm." I added, naming one of the most common ailments.

"Oh, no! no! it's not that. I'm starving, I tell you!" Then with all her fear broken down she told her story.

"My big son went to Moulmein, Thara, and he promised to send me back some money to buy rice, but he hasn't sent any money at all. When you go to Moulmein next time I want you to find him and tell him his mother is starving."

"Did he find work, grandma?" I asked sympathetically.

"Yes, he has a good job in a lumber mill, and he writes letters to me and tells me he is getting good wages."

"But, doesn't he send anything in those letters?" I interrupted.

"Only some crazy little old bits of paper with English printed and written all over them," she replied almost angrily. "But you can't buy rice with crazy little bits of paper. You have to have money to buy rice, and I'm starving, I tell you!"

But I was immediately suspicious about those crazy little old bits of paper, so I said, "Grandma, go home and get all of his letters and all of those crazy little bits of paper, and bring them to me. I want to see them."

The next morning in came grandma, still sad and discouraged; she handed me a bundle of letters carefully wrapped in a banana leaf, and said, "There now, see for yourself."

I looked, and sure enough each one of those crazy little bits of paper was a money order for ten rupees.

"Grandma, grandma," I said as I gathered them up, "each one of these crazy bits of paper is worth ten rupees. You just go to the post office, and put your thumbprint on each one, and the postmaster will give you ten rupees for each one."

For a moment grandma stood mute with amazement, then gasped, "I can? He will?" Then grasping her treasure to her heart, and trembling with excitement, she cried,

"And there I was starving! With all this fortune in my hands!"

Would that God would open our eyes today to realize what a priceless treasure we have in the Precious Promises of the dear Book of God.

E. B. Hare


God has not promised
Skies always blue;
Flower strewn pathways

All our lives through;
God has not promised
Sun without rain;
Joy without sorrow;
Peace without pain.

 But God has promised
Strength for the day;
Rest from labor,
Light for the way;
Grace for the trials,
Help from above,
Unfailing sympathy
Undying love!


There is joy in serving Jesus,
As I journey on my way,
Joy that fills the heart with praises,
Ev'ry hour and ev'ry day.
There is joy, joy,
Joy in serving Jesus,

Joy that throbs within my heart;
Ev'ry moment, ev'ry hour,
As I draw upon His pow'r,
There is joy, joy, Joy that never shall depart.

 There is joy in serving Jesus,
Joy that triumphs over pain;
Fills my soul with heaven's music,
Till I join the glad refrain.

 There is joy in serving Jesus,
As I walk alone with God;
'Tis the joy of Christ, my Saviour,
Who the path of suff'ring trod.

 There is joy in serving Jesus,
Joy amid the darkest night,
For I've learned the wondrous secret,
And I'm walking in the light.