Friday, May 4, 2007
Tommy's Prayer
In a dark and dismal alley where the sunshine never came, dwelt a little lad named Tommy, sickly, delicate, and lame. He had never yet been healthy, but had lain since he was born. Dragging out his weak existence well nigh hopeless and forlorn.
He was six, was little Tommy, 'twas just five years ago, since his drunken mother dropped him and the babe was crippled so. He had never known the comfort of a mother's tender care, but her cruel blows and curses made his pain still worse to bear.
There he lay within the cellar from the morning till the night, starved, neglected, cursed, ill-treated, nought to make his dull life bright; not a single friend to love him, not a loving thing to love-- For he knew not of a Saviour or a heaven up above.
'Twas a quiet summer evening, and the alley, too, was still; Tommy's little heart was sinking, and he felt so lonely till, floating up the quiet alley, wafted inward from the street, came the sound of someone singing, sounding, oh! so clear and sweet.
Eagerly did Tommy listen as the singing came-- Oh! that he could see the singer! How he wished he wasn't lame. Then he called and shouted loudly, till the singer heard the sound, and on noting whence it issued, soon the little cripple found.
'Twas a maiden, rough and rugged, hair unkept, and naked feet, all her garments torn and ragged, her appearance far from neat."So yer called me," said the maiden, "wonder wot yer wants o' me; most folks call me Singing Jessie, wot may yer name chance to be?"
"My name's Tommy, I'm a cripple and I want to hear you sing, for it makes me feel so happy-- sing me something, anything." Jessie laughed, and answered smiling, "I can't stay here very long, but I'll sing a hymn to please you, wot I calls the Glory Song."
Then she sang to him of heaven, pearly gates, and streets of gold, where the happy angel children are not starved or nipped with cold; But where happiness and gladness never can decrease or end. And where kind and loving Jesus, is their Sovereign and their Friend.
Oh! how Tommy's eyes did glisten as he drank in every word, as it fell from Singing Jessie-- was it true what he had heard? And so anxiously he asked her,"Is there really such a place?" And a tear began to trickle down his pallid little face.
"Tommy, you're a little heathen; Why, it's up beyond the sky, and if yer will love the Saviour, yer shall go there when yer die." "Then", said Tommy, "tell me Jessie, how can I the Saviour love, when I'm down in this 'ere cellar, and He's up in heaven above?"
So the little ragged maiden who had heard at Sunday School, all about the way to heaven, and the Christian's golden rule, taught the little cripple Tommy how to love, and how to pray. Then she sang a Song of Jesus, kissed his cheek and went away.
Tommy lay within the cellar which had grown so dark and cold, thinking all about the children in the streets of shining gold. And he heeded not the darkness of that damp and chilly room, for the joy in Tommy's bosom could disperse the deepest gloom.
"Oh! if I could only see it," thought the cripple as he lay, "Jessie said that Jesus listens and I think I'll try and pray"; So he put his hands together, and he closed his little eyes, and in accents weak, yet earnest, sent this message to the skies:--
Gentle Jesus, please forgive me as I didn't know afore, that yer cared for little cripples that is weak and very poor. And I never heard of heaven till that Jessie came today, and told me all about it, so I wants to try and pray.
"Yer can see me, can't yer Jesus? Jessie told me that yer could, and I somehow must believe it, for it seems so prime and good. And she told me if I loved you, I should see yer when I die, in the bright and happy heaven that is up beyond the sky."
"Lord, I'm only just a cripple, and I'm no use here below, for I heard my mother whisper, she'd be glad if I could go; And I'm cold and hungry sometimes; And I feel so lonely too, can't yer take me, Gentle Jesus, up to heaven along o' you?"
"Oh! I'd be so good and patient, and
