p. 12 | HE IS RISEN by W. H. Mills

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Mountain View, California · Jan 2, 1907

HE IS RISEN.

By W. H. Mills

I WAS standing before the window of an art store where a picture of the crucifixion of our Lord was on exhibition; as I gazed I was conscious of the approach of another, and turning, beheld a little lad gazing intently at the picture also. Noticing that this mite of humanity was a sort of street Arab, I thought I would speak to him; so I asked, pointing to the picture, "Do you know who it is?" "Yes," came the quick response, "That's our Saviour," with a mingled look of pity and surprise that I should not know.

With an evident desire to enlighten me further, he continued, after a pause, "Them's the soldiers, the Roman soldiers," and, with a long-drawn sigh, "That woman crying there is His mother." He waited apparently for me to question him further, thrust his hands into his pockets, and with a reverent and subdued voice, added, "They killed Him, Mister. Yes, sir, they killed Him!" I looked at the little ragged fellow and asked, "Where did you learn this?" He replied, "At the Mission Sunday-school."

Full of thought regarding the benefits of Mission Sunday-schools, I turned away and resumed my walk, leaving the little lad looking at the picture. I had not walked a block when I heard his childish treble calling, "Mister! Say, mister!" I turned. He was running toward me, but paused; then up went his little hand, and with triumphant sound in voice he said, "I wanted to tell you He rose again! Yes, mister, He rose again." —W. H. Mills, in the Presbyterian Record.