Sunshine fïlary
By Alice M. Ardagh
wish He’d come to Gold Rock and bless me?” “ Oh, yes, I guess so,” said her mother. “Now the buns are nearly ready, and Daddy will be here in a minute. Go and wash your hands!” Mary went away to do as her mother bade her, but she was a little puzzled. Mother didn’t seem to care to talk about God and Jesus as Teach er did. And then, one Friday, Mary came running home, weeping bitterly. “ Oh, Muvver,” she cried, “ they’ve killed Him! They’ve killed the Lord Jesus!” It didn’t do any good to offer her hot biscuits and maple syrup that night. Mary couldn’t eat anything. On Saturday morning, she ran up the road to the house where Teacher lived. She must ask her if there was no hope; had they really killed Him? But Teacher had gone to the nearest town, fifteen miles away, to spend the day. Mary was very sad all that day. Then Sunday morning came. Mary thought Teacher would be at home then; so, at nine o’clock, up the road she ran and saw Teacher standing in her doorway. “ Good morning, Sunshine Mary!” she cried, in a cheery voice. “Why, dear, you don’t look at all like your name today! Where’s that smile we all love so much?” “ Oh, Teacher,” Mary cried, “is He really dead? Didn’t He p’waps get well again, even if they did crucify Him? I want to see Him, and have Him lay His hand on my head!” Teacher knelt right down there on the rocky ground and drew Mary to her in a tight embrace. “ You blessed child!” she cried. “You didn’t know, and I should have told you. They crucified Him, but He rose again and came right out of the grave, and His disciples saw Him, and His mother, and the other Mary, and . . .” But Sunshine Mary couldn’t wait to hear of any others who had seen Him. “W ill I see Him?” she cried eagerly. “ Oh, Teacher, w ill I?” “Yes, dear,” Teacher answered.
“But not here. He didn’t stay down here very long after He arose from the grave. He went back to heaven to His Father. But, Mary, He said He went because He wanted to pre pare a place for us to go and live with Him forever. All who love Him will go there, so you and I will both go, dear, and see Him and hear Him, and feel His loving hands.” Mary’s heart was brimming over with joy. Back along the road she ran. “ Oh, Daddy!” she cried. “He’s alive! My Jesus is alive!” “ Daddy’s girl,” he said, “ what does all this mean? You’ve been so un happy lately, and now you’re so glad. What have you been hearing?” “ Oh, Daddy, didn’t you know they crucified Him? And He came alive again and went up to heaven to God, and He’s getting a place ready for us— if we love Him! Oh, I love Him so! Don’t you love Him, Daddy?” “Well, I have heard about Him, Mary, but I haven’t thought much about Him for a long time—not for a good many years, I guess.” “ Oh, Daddy!” said Mary in a small, hurt voice, as she turned away from him and began to cry harder than ever. Her father gathered her into his arms and said gently, “Would you like to tell me all about Him, dar ling?” And Mary told him, in her child ish language— told him all her teach er had told her of the Lord Jesus’ life upon the earth spent in caring for the poor and sick and wretched, of His death on the cross, and of how, because He was God, death could not hold Him in the grave, but He arose and finally went back to heaven to prepare a place for every one who loved Him. God carried the .little child’s words home to her father’s heart, so that he said, rather huskily: “ Darling, that was an awful lot to do for folks who treated Him so. And I have been hurting Him, too, by forgetting about His love and what He did for me. But we do both love Him, don’t we, Mary? And shall THE KING'S BUSINESS
T hey couldn’t comfort “ Sunshine Mary”—nor her daddy, who was distressed by her crying, nor her mother who grew quite impatient about it. They couldn’t comfort her, for, “ They have killed Jesus!” she cried. “They have crucified Him!” Mary was only five, but she re membered what was told her—re membered so well, that she had been put in the first grade. But Mary wasn’t happy about what she had just learned at school. She sobbed, “And now I can never see Him and hear Him say, ‘Suffer the little chil dren to come unto me’ !” No, they Couldn’t comfort Mary! This was too great a sorrow. It was only a month ago that Miss Aylmer had come to be her teacher at the little mountain school, but every day of that month Mary had been learning what she had never heard before. The first thing Teacher did every day was to read out of a book she called the Bible, a book which she said God had written. Mary had never heard of God before! When she got home the first day, she ran to her mother and asked, “Muv- ver, did you know there is some one living up in the sky, and He’s called God —and He can do anything?” “Who told you about Him?” asked her mother. “ Teacher did,” replied Mary. “ Oh!” said her mother. “Yes, I’ve heard of Him. Now run away and wash your hands and come and have your supper!” As Mary washed her hands she wondered why, since her mother knew about God, she had never told her about Him! She decided that it was because Mother thought Mary had heard all there was to know. The next day, Mary ran home faster than the day before. “Muvver,” she cried, as she ran into the kitchen, “God has a Son! God sent His Son down here. And He lays His hands on children’s heads and blesses ’em. I’d love to feel His hand on my head! Don’t you 28
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