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
PROMISES
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!
JOY IN SERVING JESUS
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.
- OSWALD J.
SMITH.