As Mr. Muller's settled principle was _never to grasp eagerly at any gift whatever the need or the amount of the gift,_ before accepting this money he had a long conversation with this woman, seeking to prevent her from giving either from an unsanctified motive or in unhallowed haste, without counting the cost. He would in such a case dishonour his Master by accepting the gift, as though God were in need of our offerings. Careful scrutiny, however, revealed no motives not pure and Christlike; this woman had calmly and deliberately reached her decision. "The Lord Jesus," she said, "has given His last drop of blood for me, and should I not give Him this hundred pounds?" He who comes into contact with such givers in his work for God finds therein a means of grace.
This striking incident lends a pathetic interest to the beginnings of the orphan work, and still more as we further trace the story of this humble needlewoman. She had been a habitual giver, but so unobtrusively that, while she lived, not half a dozen people knew of either the legacy or of this donation. Afterward, however, it came to the light that in many cases she had quietly and most unostentatiously given food, clothing, and like comforts to the deserving poor. Her gifts were so disproportionate to her means that her little capital rapidly diminished. Mr. Muller was naturally very reluctant to accept what she brought, until he saw that the love of Christ constrained her. He could then do no less than to receive her offering, in his Master's name, while like the Master he exclaimed, "O woman, great is thy faith!"
Five features made her benevolence praiseworthy. First, all these deeds of charity were done in secret and without any show; and she therefore was kept humble, not puffed up with pride through human applause; her personal habits of dress and diet remained as simple after her legacy as before, and to the last she worked with her needle for her own support; and, finally, while her _earnings_ were counted in shillings and pence, her _givings_ were counted in sovereigns or five-pound notes, and in one case by the hundred pounds. Her money was entirely gone, years before she was called higher, but the faithful God never forgot His promise: "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." Never left to want, even after bodily weakness forbade her longer to ply her needle, she asked no human being for help, but in whatever straits made her appeal to God, and was not only left to suffer no lack, but, in the midst of much bodily suffering, her mouth was filled with holy song.
Mr. Muller records the _first bequest_ as from a dear lad who died in the faith. During his last illness, he had received a gift of some new silver coins; and he asked that this, his only treasure in money, might be sent for the orphans. With pathetic tenderness Mr. Muller adds that this precious little legacy of _six shillings sixpence halfpenny,_ received September 15, 1837, was the first they ever had. Those who estimate all donations by money-worth can little understand how welcome such a bequest was; but to such a man this small donation, bequeathed by one of Christ's little ones, and representing all he possessed, was of inestimable worth.
In May, 1842, a gold watch and chain were accompanied by a brief note, the contents of which suggest the possibilities of service, open to us through the voluntary limitation of artificial or imaginary wants. The note reads thus: "A pilgrim does not want such a watch as this to make him happy; one of an inferior kind will do to show him how swiftly time flies, and how fast he is hastening on to that Canaan where time will be no more: so that it is for you to do with this what it seemeth good to you. It is the last relic of earthly vanity, and, while I am in the body, may I be kept from all idolatry!"