February, 1934
T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
57
Junior KING’S BUSINESS B y M a r t h a S. H o o k e r
“ To worship God and Jesus Christ.” “ But who is Jesus Christ?” asked the wondering Hong. “ They say He is God’s Son,” came the reply in awe-stricken tones. “ Gpd’s Son,” Hong repeated, amazed. “I never knew God had a Son.” Hong was now more interested than ever, and was not at all timid. He entered the little church and sat down. There he heard for the first time the blessed story o f God’s love. A Chinese missionary, Pastor Tsang, was preaching. He was telling o f the blood of Jesus Christ, which washes away sin and makes the heart white. Hong knew he was a sinner—a great sinner, for he had committed many crimes. He knew, too, that heathen worship was only a form that drew forth no heart interest ; but here, in this little church, he was hearing a message which spoke to his innermost being. He was hearing of a Saviour who could save people from their sins. He longed to hear more, so, night after night, he continued to come to the little chapel to hear more o f the won derful story of the love o f Jesus. All the while, the Holy Spirit, the great Teacher, was speaking to Hong’s .heart, making real to him the messages he heard. Gladly he accepted Jesus as his Saviour, and went away singing, for his heart— once black with sin—was washed in the blood of Jesus. Having received the Lord Jesus as Saviour, Hong longed to enter His service and to tell others the good news o f the gospel. A few months later, much to the displeasure o f his heathen parents, he en tered a Bible school, a day’s journey from Bali, to prepare himself for Christian work. He has now finished one year of training. At vacation time, he returned to Bali, his home town, to witness to his family and friends, and to tell them what the Lord Jesus has done for them. So it is that away on a little island in the southern waters o f the Pacific Ocean, a young man still sings a song o f praise-^ even at midnight—a song which has been sung by Christians the world around: “ Count your blessings, Name them one by one, The Gospel According to You We are writing a Gospel, A chapter each day, By deeds that we do, By words that we say. Men read what we’re writing; Whether faithless or true. Say, what is the Gospel According to you? — S elected . Scripture Alphabet (Continued) “Even a child is known by his doings,” (Prov. 20:11). “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory o f God” ( Rom. 3:23). Count your many blessings, See what God hath done.”
The Little Boat Twice Owned Bruce loved the sea and boats. To spend a day at a harbor watching the boats come and go was to him the best treat he could imagine. He lived with his parents in a town located along the shores of a great lake, and his one desire was to have a little boat of his own to sail upon the blue waters. One day, his father said, “ Bruce, why don’t you make a boat ? I will furnish ail the materials and let you work in my work shop.” This brought joy to the heart of the lad, and not long after that, he displayed to his father a boat of his own designing and making. I believe he liked it a bit more than he would any other, because he had made it all himself. What love and dreams he had put into its frame work! He had painted it red and blue, and with its white sails it displayed the colors of our flag. It was not a boat large enough to carry people, but it could sail on the lake, held by a long cord. One beautiful day, down to the lake- shore went Bruce. Imagine his joy when he saw the little boat sail proudly away on the blue waves I O f course, he guided it here and there by means o f the long cord. All went well for a while. Then, “ Clang, clang” rang the fire alarm. The fire engine could be heard in the distance. Hurriedly fastening the cord, Bruce was off with the others. It was a big fire—a city block was swept away, and Bruce lingered with many others for a long time. Finally, however, his thoughts returned to his toy. Away he sped to the lake front—but alas, the little boat was nowhere to be seen. Along the shore he went, straining his eyes for a glimpse o f his red-white-and-blue boat, but not a trace could he find. For days he stayed near the shore, hoping against hope for his treasure’s return. His father suggested buying a new one for him, but Bruce said, “No, that would not be the one I made.” Weeks went by, and then one day a strange thing happened. Walking down the main street o f his home town with his father, Bruce spied in a store window a little .boat. “Oh, Daddy,” he cried, “there is my
Hong’s New Song B y J. A rthur M ouw *
w i M 0UNT your blessings, name them II I one by one”—the voice singing these words sounded strong and clear on the midnight air in far-off Bali, a little island in the Pacific Ocean. The music reached the gospel car where two tired missionaries were soundly sleeping after a hard day’s service of telling forth the gospel story. Recognizing the voice, they called to the young, dark-skinned singer: “Hong, what is the matter? Why are you disturb ing us at this time of night?” “ Too many mosquitos 1” Hong replied in his native language. “I can’t sleep, and ‘Count Your Blessings’ is a good song to sing when you are in trouble.” The missionaries smiled—and thanked God. They could not help but marvel at the great change that had taken place in Hong’s life—a life which only a year be fore was haunted by fears of every kind and filled with many and dreadful sins. But all the time, the Heavenly Father, “who is rich in mercy, for.his great love wherewith he loved us,” loved Hong, a typical young heathen boy, and sought him out in that far-away land. This is how God called Hong: One evening, as he was walking down the street o f his beautiful island home, he heard music—not the tom-tom or the weird boom-boom he was accustomed to hear, but something entirely different. The tones were mellow and sweet, and they seemed to invite him to seek their source. He became very much interested and, strolling over to where a crowd had gathered in front o f a small building, stood listening to the music. Finally he asked one of the crowd, “What is this?” “Why, this is a church,” he was told. “A church I” Hong repeated. “What is a church?” “Where people come to sing and to pray,” was the answer. “And what is their object in doing that?” asked Hong. ^Former student of the Bible Institute, now a missionary in Borneo.
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