I tried in
vain to sleep that night. The words of the text, 'Give, and it shall be
given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and
running over, shall men give into your bosom,' seemed continually sounding
in my ears. The eloquent entreaty of the speaker to all, however poor, to
give a mite to the Lord, and receive the promised blessing, seemed
addressed to me. I rose early the next morning, and looked over all my
worldly goods in search of something worth bestowing, but in vain; the
promised blessing seemed beyond my reach.
"Hearing that the ladies of the church had filled a box for the
missionary's family, I made one more effort to spare something. All was
poor and thread-bare. What should I do? At last I thought of my towels. I
had six, of coarse brown linen, but little worn. They seemed a scanty
supply for a family of seven; and yet I took one from the number, and,
putting it into my pocket, hastened to the house where the box was kept,
and quietly slipped it in. I returned home with a light heart, feeling that
my Saviour's eye had seen my sacrifice, and would bless my effort.
Pages:
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246