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 value.

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.