The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1885-01-28
a Child's Song.
BY MINNIE E. KENNEY.

In a narrow alley that separated two
tall brick tsnement-houses, teeming with
life from basement to roof, sat little
child on the stone steps, singing to the
doll she held tenderly in her arms.
The child sat in the one patch of sum
light that could straggle into the narrow
alley, and sang away as cheerily as if
nothing BIZ sunshine had been her pnr-
ton througl life There was nothing at
tractive or winning about the little singer,
save perhaps to a lover OF children, who
might have noticed how tenderly she
held the bundle of rags that served her
as doll, and how sweet and Autelike
was the voice with which she sang to it.
She was a ragged, unkempt child, with
pale, pinched features, upon which pow
erty had left its stamp, and tangled hair
that nevertheless had CLINT of gold in
it when the sunlight rested like crown
upon the dropped head.
A woman sat near by at a window
which opened into the alley, stitching
away laboriously at some coarse, heavy
work. Her thin face bore the traces of
want and sorrow, and her eyes were red
with weeping She stitched away wear
lily, pausing every now and again to wipe
away the no. tears which welled to her
eyes and dimmed her vision. The work
must be completed soon and she had no
time to indulge her grief
Half unconsciously she listened to the
childish voice grooming one tune after
another, snatches Of popular airs that she
had caught from the hand-organs, bits of
operate music that she had heard whis-
tied over, and at last the Sunday School
hymns she had earned at the little mis-
sion school,
Her voice rang out true and sweet on
these last, and the words foated through
the open window to the woman whose
poverty and friendlessness had grown to
be a burden she could no longer carry.
Why should she struggle on any longer
under the overwhelming weight of sor-
row and loneliness. She had no friends,
no one to help her with love and sym
pathy.
What a friend we nave in Jesus"
sang the child, and the woman listened
to her of this Friend
Are we weak and heavy laden?
Cumbered with a load of carer
Precious Saviour, still our refuge
Take 1t to the Lord in prayer
Do thy friends despise forsake thee2
Take it to the Lord in prayer;
In his arms He'll take and shield thee,
Thou wilt find solace there"
Clear and sweet every word of the
hymn found its way to the woman, who
listened with bowed head and clasped
hand. All, she had Friend, although her
cloud of sorrow had been 80 dark that
it had obscured Him from her vision for
time. The mists cleared away, and
she saw him again and heard the pre-
cious promise:
Come unto me all we that labor and
are heavy-laden and I will give you
rest.
She would go to this dear Friend now
and take her burden of grief to lay at
His feet, and as she went it fell from her
shoulders, as did Christians burden.
Here you, Sally, come in here !" call
ed harsh voice, and the sweet notes of
the little singer died away into fright
ened silence and she sprang to obey.
Her work had been done, though. I'm
consciously she had been one of God g
messengers sent to carry peace and COM
fort to weary, heavy-laden soul.