IF YE KENNED HOW I LOVE HIM.”

 “IF YE KENNED HOW I LOVE HIM.” A POOR idiot, who was supported by his parish in the Highlands of Scotland, passed his time in wandering from house to house. He was silent and peaceable, and won the pity of all kind hearts. He had little power to converse with his fellow-men, but seemed often in loving communion with Him who, while He is the High and Holy One, condescends to men of low estate. Yeddie, as he was called, was in the habit of whispering to himself as he trudged along the highway or performed the simple tasks which any neighbour felt at liberty to demand of him. Once, when a merry boy heard him pleading earnestly in prayer, he asked, “What ghost or goblin are you begging favours of now, Yeddie?” “Neither the one nor the tither, laddie,” he replied; “I was just having a few words with Him that neither yoursel’ nor I can see, and yet with Him that sees the baith of us!” One day Yeddie presented himself in his coarse dress and hob-nailed shoes before the minister, and, making a bow, much like that of a wooden toy when pulled by a string, he said, “Please, minister, let poor Yeddie eat supper on the coming day with the Lord Jesus.” The minister was preparing for the observance of the Lord’s Supper, which came quarterly in that thinly settled region, and was celebrated by several churches together, so that the concourse of people made it necessary to hold the services in the open air. He was too busy to be disturbed by the simple youth, and so strove to put him off as gently as possible. But Yeddie pleaded, “Oh, minister, if ye but kenned how I love Him, ye wud let me go where He’s to sit at table.” This so touched his heart that permission was given for Yeddie to take his seat with the rest. As the service proceeded, tears flowed freely from the eyes of the poor “innocent,” and at the name of Jesus he would shake his head mournfully, and whisper, “But I dinna see Him.” At length, however, after partaking of the bread and wine, he raised his head, wiped away the traces of his tears, and, looking in the minister’s face, nodded and smiled. Then he covered his face with his hands, and buried it between his knees, and remained in that posture till the parting blessing was given and the people began to scatter. He then rose, and, with a face lighted with joy and yet marked with solemnity, he followed the rest. One and another from his own parish spoke to him, but he made no reply until pressed by some of the boys. Then he said, “Ah, lads, dinna bid Yeddie talk to-day! He’s seen the face of the Lord Jesus among His ain ones. He got a smile frae His eye and a word frae his tongue; and he’s afeared to speak lest he lose memory o’t, for it’s but a bad memory he has at the best. Ah! lads, lads! I ha’ seen Him this day that I never seed before. I ha’ seen wi’ these dull eyes yon lovely Man. Dinna ye speak, but just leave poor Yeddie to His company.” When Yeddie reached the poor cot he called “home,” he dared not speak to the “granny” who sheltered him, lest he might, as he said, “lose the bonny face.” He left his “parritch and treacle” untasted; and, after smiling on and patting the faded cheek of the old woman, to show her that he was not out of humour, he climbed the ladder to the poor loft where his pallet of straw was, to get another look and another word “frae yon lovely Man.” And his voice was heard below, in low tones: “Ay, Lord, it’s just poor me that has been sae long seeking Ye; and now we’ll bide thegither and never part more! Oh, ay! but this is a bonny loft, all goold and precious stones! The hall o’ the castle is a poor place to my loft this bonny night!” And then his voice grew softer and softer till it died away. Granny sat over the smouldering peat below, with her elbows on her knees, relating in loud whispers to a neighbouring crone the stories of the boys who had preceded Yeddie from the service, and also his own strange words and appearance. “And, beside a’ this,” she said in a whisper, “he refused to taste his supper—a thing he had never done before, such a fearfu’ appetite he had! But to-night, when he cam’ in, faint wi’ the long road he had come, he cried, “Nae meat for me, granny; I ha’ had a feast which I will feel within me while I live; I supped with the Lord Jesus, and noo I must e’en gang up the loft and sleep wi’ Him!” When the morrow’s sun arose, “granny,” unwilling to disturb the weary Yeddie, left her poor pillow to perform his usual tasks. She brought peat from the stack and water from the spring. She spread her humble table, and made the “parritch”; and then, remembering that he went supperless to bed, she called him from the foot of the ladder. There was no reply. She called again and again, but there was no sound above, except the wind whistling through the openings in the thatch. She had not ascended the rickety ladder for years, but anxiety gave strength to her limbs, and she soon stood in the poor garret which had long sheltered the half-idiot boy. Before a rude stool, half-sitting, half-kneeling, with his head resting on his folded arms, she found Yeddie. She laid her hand upon his head, but instantly recoiled in terror. The heavy iron crown had been lifted from his brow, and, while she was sleeping, had been replaced with the crown of the ransomed, which fadeth not away. Yeddie had caught a glimpse of Jesus, and could not live apart from Him. As he had supped, so had he slept—with Him!Adamson "Religious Anecdotes of Scotland"