It has been my lot at some periods of my life to be
cast among Christians whose confidence in Christ enabled them to rise
far above the attainments made by the generality of Christians, indeed
so far as to be almost lost sight of, who would shine as brightly on the
pages of written Christian life.
"But, as I was going to say, little George was not yet four years old
when his now sainted mother and myself stood beside his sick bed, and
beheld the sweet child with his hands clasped over his eyes, evidently
engaged in prayer, with a look of anguish on his face. We stood there by
his side, watching him constantly for over an hour, not wishing to
interrupt his devotions, and at last we saw that look of distress
gradually disappear, and as silently we watched him we felt that the
influence of God's Spirit was indeed at work in that young heart.
"At last he looked up at his mother, and a sweet smile lighted up his
little face as he said, 'Mother, I am going to die; but don't cry, for I
am going straight to Jesus; my sins are all forgiven, mother.'"
"How do you know that, my sweet child?"
"Why, Jesus said so, ma."
"Said so; did you, indeed, hear any voice, my son?"
"O no, mother; but you know how it is. He speaks it in me, right here,
here, mother," laying his little hand on his throbbing breast. "I don't
want to live; I want to go where Jesus is, and be His own little boy,
and not be naughty any more; and I hope I shan't get well, I am afraid
if I do I shall be naughty again.
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