Faith of a Little Child

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Sep 23, 1909

Faith of a Little Child

I was walking along the streets of London one cold and wet night with a desponding friend, trying to cheer him, and longing to see a spark of hope kindled in his heart. In our walk we arrived at Victoria Station. While talking together, a little child stepped forward and said, “Any lights, sir?”

“No, Topsy,” I replied, “I don’t want any; I do not smoke.”

“O, but please, sir, do buy a box!” she persisted, in a pleading tone.

“No, no; run away, Topsy,” I continued; “I have no use for lights.”

But still she persisted. At last, seeing her earnestness, I asked her what she did all day, and at what time she was going home, for it was then past ten o’clock.

“O,” she replied, “I go to school in the day, and after four o’clock I come out here.”

“But why do not your father and mother take care of you?”

“Father has run away, and mother is ill in bed.”

“And what do you come out here for?”

“I come and stay here till I have taken sixpence.”

“But you don’t always take sixpence, do you?”

“Yes, I do, sir.”

“But you won’t get sixpence to-night.”

“Yes, I shall, sir.”

“Well, how much have you now?”

She seemed inclined not to let me know, but I said, “Come, Topsy, you must tell me all about it.” So, half afraid, she drew some coppers from a pocket in her cotton dress and counted out threepence halfpenny.

“Well now, you will never get sixpence to-night,” I said.

“O, yes, sir,” she answered, “I shall! I always take home sixpence.”

“Now, Topsy, tell me what makes you so sure of getting sixpence.”

For some time she would not answer, but after a little pressing, she said: “Because, before I come out, I kneel down by my mother’s bed and say the Lord’s prayer, and mother says our Father will help me to get sixpence; and he always does.”

“O, but I thought you said your father had run away?”

“Don’t you know, sir,” she simply asked, “that we have a Father in heaven?”

“Yes; but you don’t mean to say he hears you about a sixpence.”

“Yes, he does, sir; and he will send me sixpence.”

“Well, if I were to give you twopence halfpenny, what would you do?”

“Why, sir, I should run home to mother, because my Father had given me all I asked for.”

It is needless to say that the twopence halfpenny was produced, and suitably acknowledged by the little one, who merrily tripped home. I turned to my friend, who all this time had stood by without saying a word; our glances met, and my only remark was, “There, —, you have got your lesson.” We forthwith separated—I to my bachelor chambers, he to be led into hope and righteousness by the faith of a little child.—The Christian.