Madge was now almost constantly in the thoughts of Alie. To find some way of helping one so unhappy, of teaching one so ignorant, of pouring any sweetness into a cup so bitter, became the frequent occupation of her mind. Alie took pleasure in mending up old things and making new ones, reserving little dainties, contriving small surprises for the poor gipsy child in the lane. She searched out the most suitable verses to teach her, thought over improving stories to tell her, and never forgot, morning and night, to pray earnestly for the unhappy little girl.
And was all this trouble in vain? No; there was one lesson which poor Madge easily learned, and that was, to love her young teacher; and the next step was not a very hard one—to love that which she taught. It was glad tidings to the desolate girl to learn that there was a great and good Being who cared even for her; that there was a glorious crown prepared even for a gipsy child; that she who had never enjoyed the comfort of a home upon earth, might, after death, dwell in a bright home above the skies. Alie had not yet had many opportunities of serving God, or benefiting her fellow-creatures; but she had _done what she could_. She had sought out one wandering lamb; she had cheered one sorrowing heart; she had been a guide to one who had no other to win her from the way of misery and destruction. Oh! dear reader, could the same be said of you? _If thou forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto death, and those that are ready to be slain; if thou sayest, Behold, we knew it not; doth not He that pondereth the heart consider it? and He that keepeth thy soul, doth not He know it? and shall not He render to every man according to his works?_
Souls are perishing before thee— Save, save one! It may be thy crown of glory,— Save, save one! From the waves that would devour, From the raging lion’s power, From destruction’s fiery shower, Save, save one!
Not in thine own strength confiding, Save, save one! Faith and prayer thy efforts guiding, Save, save one! None can e’er, unless possessing Heavenly aid and heavenly blessing, To the work of mercy pressing, Save e’en one!
Who the worth of souls can measure?— Save, save one! Who can count the priceless treasure? Save, save one! Like the stars shall shine for ever Those who faithfully endeavour Dying sinners to deliver— Save, save one!