Children of the Kingdom
The afternoon sunlight, streaming brightly through the windows of the little old-fashioned church, gilded the fair young heads in the choir, and down a broad golden path slid a quivering crown upon the good old minister’s silver hair. Daisy and Bob Saybrook sat in the square pew under the pulpit, tightly wedged in between Aunt Skinner and mischievous Cousin John, and listened with more than their usual attention to the words of the sermon. The text was so very sweet—“Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” (Luke 12:32)
The tears came in Daisy’s eyes. She looked at Uncle Skinner, but he had settled down with his eyes shut, probably so that his attention might not be distracted by anything earthly. Aunt Skinner was taking a pinch of snuff, and John was scrawling in the hymn book, drawing pictures of dogs worrying cats, and another one, which made Daisy shudder, of a man hanging on a gallows. But Bob—that was a comfort—gave her a bright look of sympathy; and pressing each other’s hands, they listened with eager ears.
Now Bob and Daisy were orphans, and it was only a few weeks since their dear mother had died, and they had come to live with Uncle and Aunt Skinner. No one in all the world can take the place of a precious mother; so, although Aunt Skinner tried to be very kind, they could not yet feel at all happy in their new home, and they had to struggle very hard against a feeling of positive dislike towards their cousin John. He was older and stronger than Bob, and was continually doing every thing in his power to make his young cousins uncomfortable. Even now, as they sat in church, he would now and then vary his occupation of drawing by giving Daisy a violent pinch, which would make her start off her seat. Then Aunt Skinner would give her such a sharp look that the child’s heart would be nearly broken. So it is no wonder that these little children listened so eagerly to the comforting words of the good old minister. He told them such wonderful things of the glorious King who made all the shining worlds, of His great, white throne, and His angels, beautiful because they had stood so long in His light, the harpers, harping with harps, and the cherubim veiling their faces because the glory was so great. But this wonderful King so loved the little world that He sent His Son to die upon the cross, that all His sinful, wandering, earth-children might come back to His love. And he, the great King, would be their Father, Jesus his glorious Son their elder brother, and they with him should be heirs of the kingdom. “Behold, what manner of love!” said the good minister, with tears in his eyes. “Through this dear, Elder Brother we can even come nearer God’s heart than the angels.”
Daisy looked at Bob with a glad surprise; and when service was over, they walked slowly home, talking it over together. They had often talked before with their dear mother, and when she died, she hoped that she left them both “followers of God, as dear children.” (Ephesians 5:1) But Daisy felt troubled.
“Bob,” said she, anxiously, “do you really think we are children of the kingdom?”
“Why, I hope so; but I’ll tell you what I did in church, Daisy. I gave my heart to God over again, and I promised to study his Book more, and find out all he wishes me to do, and then I’ll do it with all my might.”
“Then I will, too,” said Daisy, lifting her clear eyes to heaven.
“But I’ll tell you what, Daisy, we’ll have a tough time trying to do some things. What do you think of—‘Love your enemies?’ Now there’s John—”
“Well, to be sure, my arm is all black and blue; but then I feel now as if I forgave him. And, indeed, Bob,” said she, slowly, “I’m not quite sure, but I think I could almost love him.”
“Ah, indeed!” sneered a voice behind them, “don’t put yourself out too much.”
Daisy colored violently. “Have you heard all we said?”
“I’ve had the privilege,” said John, in a nasal tone, “of listening to most of your edifying conversation. It was a great treat for such a poor sinner, I assure you. It’s so very affecting to think that these dear lambs of the flock can love a poor goat with such very long horns”; and he pretended to wipe his eyes.
“Now, John,” said Daisy, deprecatingly, “you know we did not mean to say any thing so bad. We want to love you very much, but you will not let us.”
“And why not, pray, Miss Sanctity?”
“You need only look at her arm,” cried Bob, indignantly, “and you’ll have one answer. And I’ll tell you what, John Skinner, you’ll have to stop that fun.”
“Ah?” said he, with provoking coolness. “Will the little lamb fight? I thought it could only bleat, and cry for its ma.”
The tears sprang into Bob’s eyes at that heartless allusion to his recent sorrow, and a voice whispered in his heart, “It’s no use—give up trying to be one of God’s children, and pitch into John Skinner just once.” But he struggled against the feeling, though his hands clenched involuntarily, while he prayed for help. Daisy, too, would not trust herself to speak, and walked on silently, while John sang scraps of psalm-tunes through his nose, all the way home.
Arrived at the door, John turned to Daisy. “My dear, Christian friend, I have such a pleasant surprise for you.” Daisy followed him apprehensively through the garden to the barn, when, opening the door, out walked her little pet kitten, Pearl, her pure, white fur dabbled with streaks of red and yellow paint, looking like a little clown kitten.
“You see,” said John, while Daisy uttered an exclamation of dismay, “I knew your taste in colors, because you admired the sunset so much last night. I’m so glad I have pleased you”; and he grinned maliciously.
The kitten mewed piteously, as if in great pain.
“I declare,” said John, “I believe she has been trying to lick it off. I hadn’t the least idea that she had a taste for color, too”; and he laughed loudly.
“You’re a cruel boy, John,” cried Bob, coming up. “That poor kitten has swallowed too much paint, and will die before night.”
John only laughed louder, while Daisy tenderly took her kitten, and with Bob’s help washed it with soap and warm water. The poor kitten seemed grateful, but lay languidly in Daisy’s lap till night, when, as Bob predicted, it died.
Daisy could not be comforted, and Bob indignantly told Aunt Skinner the whole story.
“Oh, John is always up to his tricks,” said she, a little impatiently, “but I don’t think that little bit of paint hurt the kitten at all. It always was sickly. Daisy played with it too much. But don’t cry, child,” she added, more kindly; “you shall have another some time.”
“It will never be like Pearl,” sobbed Daisy.
“Dear Sister Saybrook,” drawled John, passing her little stool, “you must set your affections on things above.”
“Daisy,” whispered Bob, as they lighted their candles to go to bed, “could you love John now?”
“Don’t ask me,” cried poor Daisy, in a choking voice. “It’s as much as I can do not to hate him tonight.”
Nevertheless, Daisy prayed so earnestly that God would take all bitterness out of her heart, that in the morning she was able to look quite cheerful, and spoke so pleasantly to John that he was greatly disappointed.
“She didn’t love her kitten so much, after all,” said he to himself.
But now Bob was in trouble. One of his boots was nowhere to be found. His other pair had gone to be mended, and it was almost school-time. High and low pattered the willing feet of little Daisy, but all in vain.
“You’re a very careless boy,” cried Aunt Skinner; “John never did such a thing in his life.”
“I believe John has done it now, then,” sighed Daisy to herself.
“Then I must stay at home from school,” cried Bob, bitterly; “and I was so anxious not to lose my place.”
There was no help for it, and Daisy left her brother with an aching heart.
“It’s all John,” cried Bob, fiercely, when he was left alone. “Now I’ve lost my place at the head. Oh, I just hate—”
Stop a minute, Bob, said his good angel. There are worse things than losing one’s place at school. Remember your Father sees everything, and if you do right, and conquer these wicked thoughts, John can’t make you lose your place in the kingdom.
“To be sure!” said Bob, more cheerily; “how could I forget it for a moment?”
Just then a bright idea came into his head, and hurrying to the barn, he found an old cast-off boot of Uncle Skinner’s. It was a world too large, but Bob drew it on, and clattered bravely away to school. There was a great laugh when he made his appearance, but he kept his place at the head, and felt very happy. At night, John sullenly threw the missing boot into the room. “Where did you find it?” asked Aunt Skinner.
“Under a chair in his room.”
“Oh, John!” cried Bob and Daisy together.
“It’s true,” said John. “But you’re just a couple of bats, and can’t see an inch beyond your noses.” Bob and Daisy looked at each other, but knew it was useless to say any more. A day or two after John came to them, saying, “I’ll tell you what: if you’ll give up trying to be such saints, I’ll give up plaguing you.”
Bob and Daisy could not agree to that. So day by day their trials increased. But still these little children of the kingdom struggled patiently on, and in the Book they studied to learn their Father’s command, they also often found his beautiful promises, and this was one:
“As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you.” (Isaiah 66:13)
“Ah, Bob!” said little orphan Daisy, “how sweet it is to be children of the kingdom!”