The
last two motherless little girls sent to us were turned out by their
drunken stepfather.
"The leader of our class for mothers and widows says that it is
almost impossible to visit them, their unmurmuring sufferings are so
touching. In many of their little garrets almost everything is sold.
And these are the saints of the Lord--those who will very soon go in
to the King more than conquerors. Yes, these are they from whom we
learn our best lessons of trust and patience, how to deal with
sceptics, and how to go down and share our crust with a suffering
sister."
"Oh, friends, listen to a mother's sad words. 'Some days nothing all
day. A little relief comes with the parish allowance; but many a
morning those hungry voices ask? _Mother, is this the day for
bread?_' Hear in fancy your loved and cherished little ones asking
this, and you will feel for that mother's heart. She recalls one day
that she left them crying for bread; but she left _One_ with
them, the children's Friend. _He_ quieted them; and when after
two hours the mother returned, she found them sleeping. 'But, oh,'
she said, 'that sight just broke-my heart, so starved they looked--
even the baby in Lizzie's arms--all just like little skeletons! I
couldn't help it; I just sat down and wept.
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