The Youth's Companion/July 19, 1860/God's Messengers
God’s Messengers.
Little Eva’s sweet face wore a very thoughtful look, one bright morning, as she stood with her dimpled chin resting on the window-sill. Her eyes were out among the flowers; but her thoughts were not there. They were far away, among flowers that never fade, that eyes like hers, bright as they were, have never seen.
“Mamma,” she said at last, “what do angels do? It cannot take them all day and every day to take care of God’s flowers.”
“No, darling, the angels are God’s messengers.”
“What is a messenger, mamma?”
“You are my little messenger sometimes. When you carried those oranges to aunt Nina, for mamma, you were her messenger. And when you ran to papa’s store to tell him grandmother had come, you were her messenger again.”
“Are messengers always angels or little girls, mamma?”
“No, dear, the mail-bags are our messengers.”
“But, mamma, papa says that once they didn’t have any mail-bags. What did they do then?”
“There was no way then, but for men to be the messengers.”
“Do the angels carry God’s letters, mamma?”
“Yes, darling. But God doesn’t write his letters. He only tells them to the angels, and they always remember.”
“Where does he send them, mamma?”
“To you, and me, and everybody.”
“Why, mamma!” and Eva’s blue eyes were wide open, now, “I never saw them.”
“No, dear, you cannot see them, any more than you can see the wind that comes in at the window and blows on your face.”
“I never heard them tell their letters, mamma,” said Eva, doubtfully.
“Did my little Eva never hear something speak to her when she was alone, and was tempted to be naughty, and disobey mamma, that she must ‘obey her parents,’ or God would he displeased, and mamma sorry?”
“Yes, mamma.”
“Those are God’s letters, love, and the angels, his messengers, told them to you.”
“Oh, I am so glad!” and her eyes sparkled with delight. “I shall take good care of God’s letters. But is carrying letters all that angels do?”
“No dear; but I must tell you the rest some other time. Go now, and tell Mary to bring baby to mamma.”
“I’ll be your little good messenger now, mamma, and then perhaps I’ll be God’s messenger some day.” And away she skipped, leaving tears in mamma’s eyes.—Reaper.