rUcJa I i c t n c t n ^
By Martha L. Muir*
in and spoke to me in a friendly way, ‘Greetings, friend.’ She told me little Ndala had been ill for a long, long time with a sickness in his leg. She said she would have taken him to the mission hospital but it was too far for her to carry him. How glad I was that I had some medicine with me which I hoped would help him! After I had done what I could for the little boy, I sat down and told him about the Lord Jesus Christ who loves everyone and who died for all the children in the world. Ndala listened with wide-open eyes. He asked, ‘Can Jesus'make a sick boy well?’ I assured him that He could do that if it were His will. I taught both him and his mother to pray, ‘Jesus come into my heart and be my Saviour.’ And little Ndala added, ‘And make me well. In Jesus’ name. Amen’. “As I turned to leave, Ndala called out, ‘Will you take my canary?’ I hardly knew what to say. ‘Does he sing?’ I asked. ‘Oh, all the time!’ he exclaimed. I did not want to take the little bird for he was the only pleasure the little black boy had. But he was offering his all to Jesus and I could not refuse. So I brought him home in his grass and stick cage. We took him as a gift from Jesus to us, didn’t we, Bobby?” They both looked at the little bird who was again pouring out his heart in song. “ Maybe that is why he sings so well, Mother. Did little Ndala get well?” “ Oh, yes. The very next time I went to that village, he was playing happily. And he says he belongs to Jesus, and is telling others about Him. Isn’t it won derful to be His, Bobby, whether we are missionaries, little black or white boys —or even canaries ?” nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnrrannn Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right.” Eph. 6:1. Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.” Ex. 20:12. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” Prov. 3:6. Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord:” Psa. 127:3. Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you.” James 4:8. Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth,” Eccl. 12:1. Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and wheth er it be right.” Prov. 20:11. Neglect not the gift that is in thee.” 1 Tim. 4:14.
p |-^HE wee yellow canary on the veranda sang and sang and sang. -JL Its tiny throat puffed out and its little beak flew open as trills and runs and “tweets”—high, low, up and down, soft and loud, came tumbling out. Bobby listened in wonder. How could one small bird sing such a lovely song? And imprisoned in a cage, too ? “ I wouldn’t be happy if I were shut up,” thought he. Bobby lived in Africa where his par ents were missionaries. Often his father took long journeys into the distant vil lages where black boys and girls had never once heard of the Lord Jesus Christ. Sometimes his mother went too and then the time seemed very long to Bobby. Of course, he was never left alone in the bush, for he was just a little boy, but the food that black Mbumba fixed for him never tasted right when he was so lonely. However, he knew he must not be selfish; for if the gospel were not taken to the black people, they would never be saved. Now both Daddy and Mother were home and Bobby was happy. As he listened to the canary’s song, he remem bered how the little bird came to be theirs. Just then his mother came into the room, and Bobby begged, “ Please, Mother, tell me once more how you got the canary.” Although she was very busy, Mother put down her work, and told the well-loved story again. “ It was last year when I made a journey to the villages along the Cuando River. Remember it was very hot—just before the rains came? All of the boys, and girls, and their mothers, and some times even their fathers too, would get up early, before the big red sun came peeping through the trees. So if I want ed to teach them a song or even one verse out of God’s Book I had to rise early too. So I did. As soon as they re peated the Bible verse after me, they bowed their heads and prayed, ‘Jesus, save me from my sins. Father God, help me today. I pray in Jesus’ name, Amen.’ Then they would jump up and rush away to the fields with baskets and hoes. How tired they would get working so hard in the hot sun, with the perspiration pour ing down their faces! It was especially hard for the mothers, with their babies tied on their backs. “ One morning I went into a tiny vil lage I thought was empty, it was so still. Not a soul was in sight! Even the dogs were in the fields. I was about to * Missionary of the South Africa Gen eral Mission.
leave when I heard a noise in one of the huts. I pushed open the cornstalk door. At first all I could see was darkness and smoke. Then I heard a weak little voice coming from behind the door. What a sight met my eyes! There on a hard bed, made of sticks tied together with bark rope, lay the thinnest, sickest little boy I ever saw. He stared at me, half frightened. Just then his mother came
T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
Page Twenty
Made with FlippingBook flipbook maker