CHAPTER IV.

A CHILDREN'S SERVICE.

IT was Salome's fifth birthday. A whole year had passed since I had taken the shilling, and a year seemed a very, very long time to me in those days. I had left school, and had gone to be Betson's errand boy, until father could decide what trade he meant me to follow. I drove a light cart for Betson, and carried out all his parcels, and swept out his shop, and made myself generally useful to him. I was at Betson's early in the morning, and came home quite late in the evening. Betson was doing a large trade, and I had little spare time.

I was very glad that that year happened to be Leap year, and that therefore Salome's birthday was on Sunday, instead of Saturday. I could be with her the whole day.

I had bought a Testament for her birthday present, for I had taught her to read, and she was getting to read very nicely. The Testament had gilt edges, and I had bought several bright-colored markers for it. I gave it to Salome as soon as she woke, and she was very much pleased with it. She opened it at once, and read the first verse which caught her eye:

"'Then shall two be in the field; the one shall be taken, and the other left.'"

I was very proud of my scholar, and was much pleased that she could read every word of it without a mistake. But Salome looked up at me with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Taken where, Peter?" she asked.

"I don't know, Salome," I said; "I'll find you an easier piece," and I turned to the parable of the ten virgins in the next chapter.

But Salome had not forgotten the verse which I could not explain to her.

"Father," she said at breakfast, "where was the man in the field taken to?"

Father looked at her in astonishment, and mother said—

"Whatever has the child got in her head now?"

"She read it in her Testament this morning," I said.

"Oh! Then, Peter will tell you," said mother; "he has been to school since I have!"

"Peter doesn't know," said Salome, as she went on with her breakfast.

Salome's fourth birthday had been a hot day, but Salome's fifth birthday was, I think, the hottest day I have ever known. It was a close, stifling heat, and the church that morning was like an oven.

Bartholomew fell fast asleep, and snored so loudly, that an old gentleman in the pew before us turned round and poked him with his umbrella. We were all of us very sleepy, and even father nodded a good deal in the sermon. I thought every one and everything in church seemed sleepy that day. The organ played slow and sleepy tunes, the choir sang in sleepy voices, the old clergyman's voice sounded like a voice in a dream, even the flies that were going hither and thither in the church went sleepily on their way, and crawled lazily over the prayer-books and hymn-books. I remember nothing about the service, not even the text of the sermon. The only thing which caught my attention was a notice, which was given out just before the last hymn—

"A children's service will be held in this church, at five o'clock this afternoon."

"I will bring Salome," I said to myself.

So at five o'clock mother dressed Salome in her best clothes, and we set off together. She had never been to church before, and she was in high spirits.

It was a short service, with plenty of singing, and Salome enjoyed it very much.

And then came the sermon. I had never seen the preacher before, nor do I now remember what he was like. But I remember his sermon, and I shall never forget it as long as I live.

I took Salome on my knee, and told her to listen when the sermon began, and I can see now her little earnest face, as she fixed her eyes on the clergyman. She had brought her Testament with her, for she would not part with it at all that day, and I turned to the text when the clergyman gave it out—Matthew xxiv. 40.

How Salome looked up at me when she saw what it was!

"One shall be taken, and the other left."

"Taken where?" said the clergyman. "And left where?"

"That's just what we want to know!" whispered Salome to me.

"What is the greatest sight you have ever seen?" the clergyman went on. "Perhaps some of you have seen the Queen. If we knew the Queen was coming to our town, what an excitement and stir there would be in the place! What grand preparations would be made! And when she came, what a splendid sight it would be! You would all want to see the procession go by, and try to get to a good place, where you might see all that was to be seen. But, my young friends, you and I will see a far more glorious sight than that; we shall see the grandest sight that this world has ever seen; we shall see the Lord Jesus, the King of kings, coming in His glory!

"As the Lord sat on the Mount of Olives one day, He told His disciples a great deal about His second coming. He told them that on the day He shall come all will be going on just as usual; that day will be exactly like any other day.

"Half the world will be awake when Jesus comes. Trains will be starting just as usual, shops will be open, people will be buying and selling, and making money. The children will go to school just as on any other day; they will play at cricket, or marbles, or leap-frog, just as you did yesterday, and will do to-morrow. Your fathers will go to their work, your mothers will wash, or iron, or bake, and you will be talking, and laughing, and playing, and quarrelling, just as usual. In one house there will be a wedding that day, in another house there will be a funeral. People will stand at their doors and talk, and gossip, and make mischief, just as you see them every day of your life.

"The other half of the world will be asleep when Jesus comes. The children will be in their little cots, and the fathers and mothers will be sleeping too. Here and there will be a light burning, where a sick one is tossing on his bed, or a baby is keeping its mother awake. The policeman will be pacing up and down the empty street, the gamekeeper will be watching in the lonely wood, the night watchman will be keeping guard in the deserted warehouse. But nearly all in that part of the world will be fast asleep, little dreaming of what is coming.

"Jesus told His disciples also how He will come—suddenly, unexpectedly, like a flash of lightning, seen all over the world at once. The shopman will run to his door, the workman will stop with his tool in his hand, the mother will pause in her sweeping, the friends will stop in the midst of their chat, the children will make a break in their lessons, those who are in bed will wake up with the sudden light and run to their windows; all will stand gazing with wonder and astonishment into the sky.

"Jesus told His disciples, too, what will happen when He comes. Then it is that one shall be taken, and another left.

"God's holy angels will fly all over the world, to gather together His own people, all who love Him, all who have been washed in His blood. They will be brought from all countries, from the north, from the south, from the east, and from the west. They will be brought from all kinds of places, the mother from her home, the servant from her kitchen, the sailor from the ship, the collier from the mine, the farmer from his field, the tradesman from his shop. They will be found at all kinds of work, some will be asleep and some awake, some will be busy and some will be idle. Some of you, children, will be hard at work, some will be playing in the garden behind the house, some will be walking idly down the street. But all who love Jesus will be taken, taken by the angels, taken to live with Him in glory.

"There will be a great parting in that day, a great separation, for one shall be taken, and the other left.

"Two children will be in the same class that day: one shall be taken, and the other left. Two boys will be playing marbles together: one shall be taken, and the other left. Two girls will be sitting side by side sewing: one shall be taken, and the other left. Two of you, it may be, will be in this very church together, both in one pew: one shall be taken, and the other left."

"That's Salome and me," I said to myself; "she would be taken, and I should be left."

"Oh, how happy to be taken," he went on; "how terrible to be left, left to all the dreadful things coming on the earth, seeing those we know and those we love taken, and finding ourselves left behind! Which of you, my dear young friends, will be taken? Which will be left?

"Only white souls will be taken in that day—those made white in the blood of Jesus. Is your soul white, or is it covered with dirty marks, black, ugly stains?

"You know what makes our souls dirty—not mud or dust; these can only dirty our bodies. It is sin which defiles our souls.

"What about your soul?

"Ah, I know," he said, and I thought he looked at me as he said it; "I know what you are thinking of now. It happened a long time ago, but you have not forgotten it, some black sin; was it a lie, or a deceit, or a bad word? I don't know what it was; but I do know that if that sin is unforgiven, you will be left behind—left behind."

Instantly there flashed into my mind the remembrance of Salome's fourth birthday and the stolen shilling.

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