My Little Bag
by the American Sunday-School Union
On my table lies a little bag. It has no beauty
to render it valuable. It is not made of silk or velvet.
The material is plain muslin, and that by no
means of the finest texture. It is not very neatly
made. The stitches are irregular. Sometimes they
are piled one above another, and again they are
scattered far apart. The hemming shows that no
skilful seamstress held the needle. And yet this
bag has afforded me much pleasure. Every stitch
was made by the hand of love, and with a desire to
gratify me and add to my happiness. It was a work
of toil, for the fingers were unused to such labour.
Patient industry and persevering effort were required
to accomplish it. Self-denial, too, was practised,
for play was forsaken on its account.
It was a gift to me from a dear child; a token of
his purest and warmest affection; and that has made
this coarse muslin more precious than the richest
material could be, which had no such extraneous
What a blessing is love! How it enriches us!
Without it we must ever be poor. "God is love,"
and he has taught us to love one another. "Love
is the fulfilling of the law." We must love our
neighbour as ourselves.
"Little deeds of kindness,
Little words of love,
Make our earth an Eden,
Like the heaven above."
No offering of true love is valueless, however
small or imperfect it may be. My little bag is rich
in pleasant associations, and I never look upon it
but with a full heart.
God does not accept what we do for him because
of any peculiar excellence in our devotion, but because
it is the result of our love to him.