December, 1937
477
T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
Junior King's Business By MARTHA S. HOOKER THE PINK SHIRT B y M artha L oud *
O NE day in far-off India there walked along a road an old mai> holding by the hand a wee lad, his five-year- old nephew. The two were traveling up the road that led to Miss Beardslee’s or phanage for boys. When they reached the orphanage, the old man led the child up to Miss Beardslee and said, “Take him; his mother is dead, and his father can’t care for him. Please teach him about the Lord Jesus, for I know Him and love Him.” So saying, the old man went away, leaving the lad with Miss Beardslee. She gladly accepted this pre cious gift, realizing that her orphanage was founded for just such boys as this small lad. Here he was cared for by loving hands; and here, too, he soon heard the story of the Lord Jesus and His love for little chil dren. Soon he came to know and love Him as his Saviour. The winter days passed quickly, and very soon the Christmas season was ap proaching. It had been Miss Beards lee’s custom for many years to give each boy' in the orphanage a new shirt on Christmas Eve. This was not a Christmas gift, as the children were taught that at Christmas it was the Lord Jesus who should be remem bered. But Christmas Eve seemed the very best time to present the children with that which every Indian boy greatly prized, a new shirt. Many of the children and especially the young lads of five had never worn clothes until they came to the orphanage. A loin cloth had been their only clothing. So it was that as Christmas Eve drew near, Miss Beardslee made a trip to the factory to buy the mate rial for the boys’ shirts. On this par ticular occasion, she chose, instead of the usual drab brown or gray mate rial, a gay pink. Soon a pink shirt was made for every boy in the or phanage. These were all wrapped in separate packages and tagged with the name of each child. Then on Christmas Eve, the boys all went into the chapel and sat down on the floor, each one anxiously waiting to hear his name called that he might receive his package. One by one the children arose as Miss Beardslee called their names, and each boy walked up to the front of the chapel to receive his bright new pink shirt. But when the wee five- year-old lad’s name was called, he *Missionary of the Ramabai Mukti Mission,
dren gathered again in the chapel in the early morning and took their seats on the mud floor. Ever since October when the missionaries had explained to them the meaning of the approaching happy day, the boys had been planning gifts that they thought would be fitting to bring for the Lord Jesus on His day. After they were seated, they sang Christ mas hymns and a prayer was offered. Then the moment came for which they had long waited—the time when they were to pre sent their gifts to the Lord Jesus. What love was enfolded in each gift! It was their hearts’ love for Him who loved them so much that He gave His life on the cross —His best —for them. Down the aisle the boys marched. These lads of India were wearing their new pink shirts on the outside of their trousers. Gathered into the front of each shirt was the gift that each boy Carried to lay before the Lord Jesus on Christmas Day. That is, each one brought a gift save the little laddie who had so recently come to the orphanage. On the children marched, and they laid their gifts of love on the table that stood in the front of the room. Soon the table was piled with presents, and the mission ary was rejoicing that the boys were learning to give willingly to Christ. The little new boy was following the others, but his shirt hung straight down outside his trousers—empty. What would he give? What could a five-year-old boy give? Miss Beards lee was troubled. Surely he was too small to understand the meaning of it all—would he take one of the packages thinking it was for him? But no, on he came and stood right in front of the table laden with the gifts. He looked at everything on the table, then turned to Miss Beards lee who was standing near. With tears in his eyes and voice, he said, “I haven't anything for Him.” Then this little one looked down at his new pink shirt. Lovingly he smoothed the pocket with his hand, and then quietly he unfastened the three but tons, took off the precious pink shirt, folded it ever so carefully, and laid it on the table with the other gifts. Looking up into Miss Beardslee.’s face, the dear lad said, "Yesu Chrest Buckshesh” [Jesus Christ’s present]. With a shining face this little boy of India walked back to his seat. Oh, how happy it will make the Lord Jesus if each of us gives Him our best—ourselves first of all—this Christmas I
fairly ran to the front to receive his pack age. And, unlike the other children, he stood there, quickly tore off the string and paper, and held up the lovely shirt: What a thing of beauty it was to him, who had never ip all his life possessed any thing so wonderful 1 Handling it tenderly, with beaming face he looked up into Miss Beardslee’s eyes' and said in his own lan guage, “Maji” [mine]. “Hoy” [yes]. Then turning the shirt about, he dis covered the pocket, a real pocket. Again turning to Miss Beardslee, he asked, “Maji aha?” [Is it mine?] “Yes, it is yours,” she replied. Then without a moment’s hesitation, he put the shirt on, looked at himself in it, and scampered back to his seat. How this little laddie loved that pink shirt! At bed time that night, those in charge of the Home could hardly get it off of him—he wanted to sleep in it! The next day was Christmas. The chil
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