"And in my dream I saw you there,
And heard you say, 'No hands can bear
A gift, that are so filled with care.'
"What care?' the King said, and he smiled
To hear you answer, wailing wild,
'I only toil to feed a child.'
"And then with such a look divine
('Twas that awaked me with its shine),
He whispered, 'But the child is mine.'"
There are many for whom this little story-poem should have sweet
comfort. There are fathers and mothers who find it hard to provide for
their children. It takes all their time and strength, and sometimes
they say, "I cannot do any work for Christ, because it takes every
moment to earn bread and clothing for my little ones, and to care for
them." But Jesus whispers, "Yes; yet your children are mine, and what
you do for them you do for me."
There is in a home an invalid who requires all the time and thought of
another member of the household in loving attention. It may be an aged
parent needing the help of a child; it may be a child, crippled, blind,
or sick, needing all a parent's care; or it may be a brother broken in
health on whom a sister is called to wait continually with patient
love. And sometimes those who are required thus to spend their days
and nights in ministry for others feel that their lives count for
nothing in work for Christ. They hear the appeals for laborers and for
service, but cannot respond.
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