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Read Ebook: The Penitent Boy; or Sin Brings Sorrow by Kidder Daniel P Daniel Parish Editor
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Ebook has 100 lines and 6898 words, and 2 pages
THE PENITENT BOY:
OR,
SIN BRINGS SORROW.
REVISED BY D. P. KIDDER.
New-York.
PUBLISHED BY LANE & SCOTT, FOR THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, 200 MULBERRY-ST.
Joseph Longking, Printer. 1851.
THE PENITENT BOY.
"Do lend me your new knife, which mamma gave you," asked Samuel; "I want to cut notches in my stick, and play Robinson Crusoe: do, will you, Alfred?"
"No, I cannot Sam; so do not ask any more. I wish you would not tease me for my knife; you cannot have it; I do not want it hurt."
"Well, but you lent it to cousin James, on Monday, and he did not spoil it, did he?"
"Now do be quiet, Samuel; I cannot lend it to you, so that is all I shall say."
"Why I never saw you so cross, Alfred."
"Yes, I am cross, I know. I feel very cross and uncomfortable, so do not ask any more about the knife."
Just then an aunt of the little boys entered the room, and Samuel turned to her in his trouble.
"Now do not you think, aunt, Alfred ought to lend me his knife, just for a minute, to cut a Robinson Crusoe stick?"
"No doubt he will," replied Miss Woodford; "I never knew Alfred cross or unkind: he does not mean that he will not lend it; he is only joking, I am sure."
"Yes, aunt, I do mean it; I have made up my mind that nobody shall use my knife."
"Well, then," urged the anxious Samuel, "do you cut my stick yourself; I only want seven notches in it, to make believe the days of the week: of course, you will not refuse this, will you?"
"Where is your knife, my boy?" asked his aunt; "is it in your pocket?"
"No, aunt."
"Well, get it then, my dear, and do this little kindness for your brother, who looks so imploringly there, with his stick in his hand."
Alfred left the room, looking very thoughtful; and Samuel took a seat on a stool, keeping his eye on the door, resolved to wait quietly for Alfred's return, as he was not an impatient boy. After a considerable time, Alfred came back, with a face very much flushed, and no knife could be seen.
"Have you got it, Alfred?" asked Samuel, jumping up; "come, do cut my notches, because I cannot get on the island and begin to play until it is done."
"I cannot do it, Samuel; I have not got my knife."
"Where is your pretty new knife, then, my dear? I saw you put it carefully away in a box one day."
"Yes, I did, aunt; but I have just dropped it into a crack in the hall, and it is gone out of sight."
"O dear! let us try to get it," said the kind aunt; and away they all three ran to the crack in the passage. "Show me exactly the place where it went in, Alfred."
"Just here, aunt," said he, pointing to a very small crevice between the boards.
"O no; this cannot be the spot, the crack is too small to admit a knife: it must be somewhere else. But I see no crack in any other part. My dear boy," continued Miss Woodford, looking into Alfred's face, "you did not let it down here."
Her gentle words, accompanied as they were with a sorrowful look, melted him at once, for Alfred was not a hardened boy, and he ran off to his room, weeping all the way.
"Well," said Samuel, as he returned to the parlor, "I suppose I must mark some make-believe notches on my stick with my pencil."
Miss Woodford left him to his play, and went in search of her sister, the mother of the boys. Taking a seat by her side in the dining-room, she asked Mrs. Sinclair if she knew anything of the knife she had given to Alfred.
"No," replied Mrs. Sinclair; "I have not seen it for some time: but I think I heard James admiring it, on Monday."
"I am afraid it is lost, sister," continued Miss Woodford: "but this is not the worst part of it; I greatly fear Alfred has told an untruth about the affair."
"I hope not," replied Mrs. Sinclair, with a troubled countenance; "I never knew either of my boys to be guilty of anything so shocking. Where is he?"
Miss Woodford then related the whole of the circumstances, adding, "I believe Alfred has gone to his room."
Mrs. Sinclair considered, for a moment, what course to pursue, and then resolved to allow her little son to remain in the retirement he had chosen, at least for some time.
Samuel could not enjoy his game alone, for he saw very plainly that his brother had been guilty of a great sin; so he went into the garden, and walked up and down, feeling very melancholy. He knew that God had said that liars have their portion with those who are shut up in eternal darkness; and he felt very sorry that he had asked for the loan of the knife.
After an hour or two, Mrs. Sinclair went up to converse with the guilty boy; but as she was drawing near his room she heard the sound of his voice, as if conversing with some one, and, supposing that Samuel had joined him, she stopped for a moment to ascertain from whence the voice came, when she distinctly heard Alfred saying, "Forgive my sin, heavenly Father, for Jesus Christ's sake." This was a confirmation to her of the sad fact that he was really guilty of the crime laid to his charge; at the same time it was a comfort to her to hear that he was penitent. She stepped gently back into the parlor, thankful, amid her sorrow, to find that her little boy was confessing his sin to the holy God. She could not, however, remain long absent from her erring child, but again ascending the stairs, and finding all silent, she entered the room.
Alfred was sitting, bathed in tears, with two books by his side, a Bible and a prayer-book. "O, mamma!" he exclaimed, "I am ashamed to see you--I am--I am; but I will tell you all about it. O, I am so unhappy! I am afraid you will not forgive me, and I feel sure the Saviour will not."
When he saw the tears falling over his mother's cheeks, he felt more distressed than ever, and covering his face with his hands, he wept bitterly. At length he went on to confess the whole matter. "You know, mamma, my cousin James liked my knife, and asked me to give it to him for some sweetmeats he had in his pocket; so I consented to part with the knife you gave me, without thinking. I wish I had asked you about it. I have been very wicked. I told a lie to try to hide it. What shall I do?"
"Are you really sorry for your sin, Alfred? this is the question; or are you only mortified that your guilt is discovered?"
"O yes, mamma, I am indeed sorry, and I have been trying to tell God about it. I asked him to forgive me, but I am afraid he will not. How dreadful it is to think that God will remember that I have told a lie! What would become of me, if I were to die to-night?"
Mrs. Sinclair took a chair by the side of her son, and told him if he really felt sorry, there was hope he might be forgiven; "for although," said she, "God is a God of truth, and has said that whosoever loveth or maketh a lie shall be shut out of heaven, yet he has also said, if we repent of our sins, resolving to forsake them, and come to him in the name of the Saviour, that he will pardon us for his sake."
"O, I hope he will forgive me! Do pray for me, mamma. What a dreadful thing it would be if I should be driven away from heaven at last, and go with liars away from God!" Then bursting into tears, Alfred hid his face on his mother's neck, and they wept together.
Mrs. Sinclair then prayed with her penitent boy, and he became more calm. "Now, my son," she said, "we will go down to the parlor."
"O no, mamma; do let me go to bed: I would rather go to bed, if you will only kiss me, and forgive me. I should like to go to bed."
Mrs. Sinclair consented to Alfred's proposal, and after reading a chapter in the Bible, and praying to be forgiven all his sins, for the sake of Jesus Christ, he retired to rest; but he passed a very uncomfortable night, and awoke in the morning with a very sorrowful heart.
Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair had resolved that nothing should be said to their son, the next morning, on the subject of the evening's transgression, as they believed that he felt truly sorry that he had offended God.
When the bell rung for family worship, Alfred appeared, with Samuel by his side; but he looked pale and unhappy, and his eyes were downcast as he took his usual seat by his father. The family sung some verses from that beautiful hymn beginning,--
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