“ Well, Paul was talking about serving the Lord. That is something that even a child can do. It means being obedient at home and at school, being honest, in viting other boys and girls to Sunday School, praying, giving, and all those big and little things which show others that we are trying to please Jesus. And when we get older, serving Jesus may mean being a nurse or doctor and per haps carrying the gospel to boys and girls in far away lands across the sea; or it may mean just staying home and teaching a Sunday School class or sing ing in the choir. Whatever Jesus wants us to do, that is serving Him.” “ Yes, but, Mother, you haven’t yet told us about the castaway and what that has to do with the junk.” “ Well, I’m coming to that, dear. You see, for the Lord to use any of us in His service we must keep our lives pure and clean. If we don’t . . . well, He just can’t use us, that’s all, and we be come . . .” “ Oh, I know,” interrupted Daniel, elated at having the right answer, “He throws us on the junk pile.” “ That’s rather a blunt way of putting it,” laughed Daddy, who had been lis tening in all the time. “ But I guess you’re about right at that. And I’m right here to tell you that I for one want to live so Jesus can always use me.” “ I don’t want Jesus to put me on the junk wagon; do you think He will, Mother, huh, do you?” asked little Tim- mie with real concern. “ Darling, I certainly hope not, and I shall pray for you, and you, every day that you may all be useful servants of the Lord as long as you live,” I promised. “Humph,” joined in Daniel, with em phasis, “well, I know for sure that I don’t want to be any old castaway junk. I want to be like a spang-brand-new car, and I’m not going to let the old devil get in and drive. No Sir! I want Jesus to do the driving—always.”
1 JUNIOR KING'S BUSINESS Martha S. Hooker
THE JUNK WAGON
☆
S OMETIMES when you’ve been out riding in your car, have you ever come up behind a truck hauling junk? We did one day not long ago, and although the truck wasn’t going very fast we purposely stayed.behind it be cause it was so much fun looking at the things that were in it. “ Look, there’s an old bicycle frame,” shouted Daniel, “ I wish I had it, maybe Daddy could make something out of it for me.” “ Oh, I’d rather have that old kero sene stove and make believe I was out camping,” chimed in Billy, “ and I’d bring home fish to fry, and we’d make pancakes and all kinds of good things.” “ There’s my baby bed,” moaned Tim- mie, who had only recently graduated to a “ big boy’s” bed, “ and I want it back again!” “ Now that kettle over in the corner looks perfectly good from here,” I mur mured more to myself than to anyone listening. “ I surely could make good use of that. But then—probably I’d find a hole in it if I got close enough to it.” Daddy, who had to keep his eye on the driving didn’t have a chance to pick out anything for himself so ■we chose for him a “perfectly good” desk lamp that we were sure would still give him years of service. It went on and on until all the articles we could see were properly catalogued and disposed of to the members of our family and to our closest friends. Then we went over the list again and won dered what kind of people had owned the things and how useful the bicycle and stoves once were and how they hap pened to land in the junk pile. “ I wondered,” mused Billy, who is the philosopher of the family, “ I wonder— say, Mother, it’s too bad, isn’t it?” Daddy, tired of driving so slowly, had “ speeded up” and passed the truck which
By Mrs. Wm. Schobert by this time was far behind. I was en joying the scenery, but being used to answering multitudes of unanswerable questions daily, I was prepared for any thing, so I asked, “ What’s too bad, Billy boy?” “Why, a junk pile, of course. Don’t you think it is sad?” “ Yes, it is when you stop to think about it—all those things which were once so useful are now just no good at all, and we call them ‘junk.’ That re minds me of something the Apostle Paul said about being a ‘castaway’.” “Tell us about it, Mother. What’s a castaway?”
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