Perhaps she has been in the habit, when her child was drawing its nutriment from her breast, to feel more than at any other time her responsibility to the little helpless being who is a part of herself, and especially to “train it up in the way it should go.”  And she will usually improve this opportunity to commune with her God, saying with more solemn importunity, day by day, “How shall I order thee, child?” She feels the need of more wisdom, for she now begins to realize that her arms will not always encircle her child, and if they could, she could not ward off the arrows of disease and death.  She thinks too of the period as near when it will be more out from under her scrutinizing watch, and will be more exposed to temptations from without and from within.  Perhaps, too, she may die early, and then who will feel for her child, who will train it, who will consecrate it to God as sedulously as she hopes to do?  O, if she could be certain of its eternal well-being.  She eagerly inquires, “Is there any way by which my child can be so instructed, so consecrated, that I may be absolutely certain that I shall meet him, a ransomed soul, and dwell with him forever among the blessed in heaven?” “Yes, there is.”  I find in the unerring Scriptures many precious examples of children who were thus early dedicated to God, and were accepted and blessed of Him.  She loves to remember those mothers on the plains of Judea who brought their infants to the Savior for his blessing.  They were not discouraged, though the disciples, like many of the present day, forbade them to come, saying, “Of what possible use can it be to bring young children to the Savior?” But behold, the Savior welcomes and blesses them.  Children who have been thus blessed of the Savior will not, cannot be lost.  His promise is, “None shall pluck them out of my father’s hand;” and again, “I will keep that what is committed to me till the final day.”

With such Scripture promises and examples, this praying mother, hour by hour, lifts her heart to God, and implores that the Savior would crown with success her endeavors to obey his precepts, and, in doing so, to accept her consecrated child.  How sweet and gentle are her accents!  With a loud voice she puts up her petitions which, till now, under similar circumstances, have not even been whispered aloud.

But her emotions have risen so high, that not only does her voice become inarticulate, but her tears fall like April showers upon the face of her, till now, unconscious child.

The child looks inquiringly.  It now perceives that that countenance, which has hitherto been lighted up only by smiles, and been radiant with hope, at times is beclouded by fears.  No wonder if this scene should attract the attention of this infant listener.  Perhaps it is overawed.  It rises up, it looks round to see if any one is present, with whom its mother is holding converse.  Seeing no one, it hides its little head in the folds of its mother’s dress, and is still.