WHAT COUNTS.Did you tackle the trouble that came your way,With a resolute heart and cheerful,Or hide your face from the light of dayWith a craven face and fearful.O, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce.A trouble is what you make it.It isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,But only, HOW DID YOU TAKE IT?You are beaten to the earth? Well, what of that?Come up with a smiling face.It's nothing against you to fall downflat;But to LIE THERE—that's disgrace.The harder you're thrown, the higher you'll bounce,Be proud of your blackened eye.It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts,But, HOW did you fight, and WHY?And though you be down to death, what then?If you battled the best that you could,If you played your part in the world of men,TheCriticwill call it good.Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,And whether he's slow or spry,It isn't the fact that you're DEAD that counts,But only HOW DID YOU DIE?—Cooke.
The Premium.
"I think I am sure of one premium at least," said Edward, as he placed himself upon the form among his school-fellows.
It was examination day, and many a young heart was beating quick with the hope of approbation and reward, or with the fear of disgrace. Some had looked forward to this day, and applied to their tasks, knowing how carefully they should be examined, and commended or punished according to their deservings. Others had chosen to forget that such a day must come, and idled away the time which they would now have given a great deal to have at their disposal again.
In the center of the schoolroom was placed a long table, covered with books of various sizes and of different value. There were Bibles and Testaments, both large and small, the histories of Rome, of Greece, and of England. There were volumes elegantly bound and pamphlets just stitched together. The school was extensive, and it was wished that every one who had exerted himself to the best of his ability, however little that might be, should carry home with him some mark of encouragement, to remind him that diligence and perseverance were not overlooked.
Like the servants to whom the Lord entrusted the talents, some had five, and some had but one, yet these last could not be excused for hiding and neglecting it becauseit was small; even the youngest and the simplest child at school may make something of the reason and opportunities which the Lord has given him to improve.
With anxious hearts and busy faces the boys arranged themselves around the table; and were examined with great care and patience by their teachers, as to the progress they had made in their studies.
Now, Edward had set his heart on one particular premium, the Roman History, neatly bound, and making two very pretty volumes, which he thought would handsomely fill up a vacant space on his little book-shelves. He allowed himself to think of this until no other prize was of any value in his sight, a great fault, often committed by children, and grown people, too; who instead of thankfully receiving whatever the bounty of Providence assigns them, would choose for themselves; and become discontented and unhappy in the midst of blessings, because the wisdom of God sees fit to withhold some one thing that their folly deems necessary to their happiness.
Edward passed his examination with much credit, and one of the first premiums was adjudged to him; but instead of the Roman History, a very neat Bible, in excellent large type, was placed in his hands. Many of his schoolmates had wished for that Bible, but Edward regarded it not; and the eyes of the foolish boy filled with tears, as he saw the elegant history of Rome presented to another, who, perhaps, would gladly have exchanged with him.
The next day Edward returned home and related his disappointment to his parents, who thought his desire for the Roman History a mark of great learning and taste;but since he had distinguished himself so well they did not much care what prize he received.
Edward's father lived in the country, not far from the seaside, in a most delightful and healthy situation; and at this time his mother's brother, who was in a very sickly state, had just arrived there to enjoy the benefit of the sea-breezes, and rest a little from the toil and bustle of his employments in London.
Mr. Lewis was a young man of the most pleasing manners and appearance. He was very gentle and serious, but not at all gloomy or severe. His bad health only served to show forth his patience in enduring it without a murmuring word or discontented look; and Edward, who was really a kind-hearted and affectionate boy, soon became very much attached to his uncle, who had not seen him since he was an infant, and who was much pleased at the attentions his nephew delighted to pay him.
Young hearts are soon won; and it was only three days after Edward's return from school, that he went bounding over the grounds in search of his uncle, whose society he already preferred to his hoop and ball.
Mr. Lewis was seated under a fine old oak-tree, the high and knotted roots of which served as a seat; while the soft moss, interspersed with many delicate little flowers, was like a carpet beneath his feet. A rich and extensive tract of country lay spread before his eyes; and, at a distance the mighty ocean bounded the prospect, whose deep green waters were seen in beautiful contrast with the pale yellow cliff, that with a graceful, yet abrupt curve, interrupted the view to the right. Thin clouds were floatingpast the sun every now and then, and threw all the varieties of light and shade upon the lovely scene below.
Mr. Lewis had a book in his hand, into which he frequently looked, and then raised his eyes again to gaze upon the varieties that surrounded him; and so intent he seemed, that Edward doubted whether he ought to disturb him, until his uncle, seeing him at some little distance, kindly beckoned him to come near.
"Is not this a pretty place, uncle?" said Edward, as he seated himself beside him; "and do you not find the breeze from the water very refreshing?"
"It is beautiful indeed, my dear boy; and I am deriving both refreshment and instruction while I look around me."
"Is that a Bible, uncle?"
"Yes. It is God's word, which I always find the best commentary upon his works; they explain each other."
"I love the Bible too, uncle," said Edward, "and I got much credit for my answering on Scripture questions last half-year."
"And which, Edward, afforded you the greater satisfaction, the Scriptures, or the credit you got for studying them?"
Edward looked a little embarrassed and did not immediately reply.
"It is quite right to take pleasure in the well-earned approbation of your teachers," continued Mr. Lewis, "and I was glad to hear that you obtained a premium at the last examination also."
"Yes, uncle, but not the prize I wished for. Therewas a Roman History that I should have liked better, and it was just of equal value with the Bible that I got."
"How of equal value, Edward?"
"I mean that it was not reckoned a higher prize, and it would have been a nicer book for me."
"Then you had a Bible already?"
"Why, no, uncle, not of my own, but it is easy to borrow one on the Sabbath; and I had gone through all my Scripture proofs, and do not want it on other days."
"Read these four verses for me," said Mr. Lewis, pointing to the sixth chapter of Deuteronomy "commencing with the sixth verse."
Edward read: "And these words which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart; and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up; and thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes, and thou shalt write them upon the posts of thine house, and on thy gates."
"To whom was this command given, Edward?"
"To the Jews, uncle."
"Yes; and the word of God, which cannot pass away, is as much binding on us as on them, in everything excepting the sacrifices and ceremonies, which foreshowed the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ, and which were done away with, by his death's fulfilling all those types and shadows."
"Then," said Edward, "we are commanded to write the Bible on our hands and on our door-posts."
"No, my dear boy, not literally, but in a figure of speech; as the Lord, when declaring he never will forget Zion, says, 'I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.' The meaning of the passage you first read is that we must have the word of God as continually present to our minds as anything written on our hands, and on every object around us, would be to our bodily sight. And how are we to get our thoughts so occupied by it, Edward?"
"By continually reading it, I suppose," replied Edward, rather sullenly.
"By reading it often, and meditating on it much," said his uncle; "and that we can do without interfering with our other business. Without prayer you cannot obtain any spiritual blessing, nor maintain any communion with God; and without reading the Scriptures you will have but little desire to pray. We are like people wandering in the dark, while the Bible is as a bright lamp held out to direct us in the only safe path. You cannot be a child of God if you do not his will; you cannot do it unless you know it, and it is by the Bible he is pleased to communicate that knowledge. Do you begin to see, Edward, that the Bible is more suitable to be an every-day book than your profane history?"
"Why, yes, uncle; but the Bible is a grave book, and if I read it so constantly I never should be merry."
"There is no merriment among the lost, Edward; and that dreadful lot will be your portion if you neglect the great salvation which the Scriptures set forth. Besides, there is no foundation for what you suppose to be the effectof reading the Bible. I have known people naturally melancholy and discontented, to become cheerful and happy by studying it; but I never in my life saw an instance of a person's becoming unhappy because he had a good hope of going to heaven."
Edward paused a moment, and then said, "Uncle, I remember it is written concerning wisdom, that 'her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.'"
"Most true, my dear boy, 'quietness and assurance forever' is the portion of God's people. 'Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, rejoice.' 'The ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness; and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.' Are such expressions as these likely to make us gloomy, Edward?"
"O, no, uncle; and I often wonder that you, who suffer so much pain, and read the Bible constantly, are not melancholy."
"How can I be melancholy, Edward, when the Bible tells me that all these things are working together for my spiritual good? that He who spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, will with him also freely give us all things? When I think of what my sins deserve, and see the Lamb of God bearing the chastisement that should fall on me, how can I be melancholy? When I feel that the Spirit of God is bringing these things to my remembrance, and enabling me to love the Lord Jesus, who has done so much for me, must I not rejoice? I know that in me, that is, in my flesh, dwelleth no good thing; and sinceGod has promised forgiveness to all who seek that blessing through his Son; and since I feel assured that I have sought that blessing, and feel peace and joy in believing, surely the song of praise, not the moan of lamentation, becomes me. Yet I do lament, Edward, daily lament, my many offenses against God; but I am assured that Christ's blood cleanseth from all sin, and that in him I have a powerful and all-prevailing Advocate with the Father. I know in whom I have believed, and that he will never cast off nor forsake me. I am sinking into the grave, but I do not shrink from that prospect, because the bitterness of death is taken away by my Saviour, who died for my sins, and rose again for my justification; and though this body returns to dust, I shall live again, and enter into the presence of my Redeemer, and rejoice there evermore."
Edward looked at the animated countenance of his uncle, and then cast down his eyes; they were full of tears. At last he said, "Uncle, indeed I am a very sinful boy, neglecting the Bible, because I know it would show me my sin, and the consequences of it. But I will trifle no more with God's displeasure. I will get that precious Bible, worth a thousand Roman histories, and I will read it daily, with prayer, that I may be wise unto salvation."
Mr. Lewis did not live long after this. He died, rejoicing in hope of eternal life; and as often as Edward was permitted to return home from his school, he was to be seen under the old oak, with the Bible in his hand, from which he learned more and more the will of his God and Saviour—the utter sinfulness of his own nature—his inability to help himself; and from this holy word he learnedto place all his dependence on the righteousness of his Saviour—to follow the example of his Saviour, in prayer, in resignation, and in doing good to the poor around him.
He often thought of his dear uncle, and counted that day happy when he sat to listen to his kind advice, which, as a means, brought him to a knowledge of himself and of his heavenly Father.
OUR NEIGHBORS."Somebody near you is struggling aloneOver life's desert sand;Faith, hope, and courage together are gone;Reach him a helping hand;Turn on his darkness a beam of your light;Kindle, to guide him, a beacon fire bright;Cheer his discouragement, soothe his affright,Lovingly help him to stand.Somebody near you is hungry and cold;Send him some aid to-day;Somebody near you is feeble and old,Left without human stay.Under his burdens put hands kind and strong;Speak to him tenderly, sing him a song;Haste to do something to help him alongOver his weary way.Dear one, be busy, for time fleeth fast,Soon it will all be gone;Soon will our season of service be past,Soon will our day be done.Somebody near you needs now a kind word;Some one needs help, such as you can afford;Haste to assist in the name of the Lord;There may be a soul to be won."
A Kind Word.
Within each soul the God abovePlants the rich jewel,—human love.The fairest gem that graces youthIs love's companion,—fearless truth.
William and Henry were clerks in a large wholesale establishment. They met one morning on their way to the store and proceeded together. After talking awhile on various subjects, the following dialogue took place:—
"By the way, William," said Henry, "I understand you were last evening at ——'s," naming a fashionable billiard saloon.
"A mistake, Henry. I was never in a billiard saloon."
"Well, I thought it very strange when I heard it."
"Why so?"
"Why?" said Henry in astonishment. "Why, because you are a religious young man and a church member."
"Do you ever visit such places, Henry?"
"Oh, yes; but that is quite a different matter. I don't profess to be a Christian, you know."
"You would think it wrong for me to be there?"
"Of course I should."
"And right for you?"
"Well, yes; there's no harm in my being there."
"Whynot?"
"Why, because—because I do not profess to be bound by the same obligations that you are."
"And who has released you from those same obligations and imposed them upon me?"
"Oh, well, now, there's no use in talking, William; you know that Christians do not and ought not to engage in what they consider pernicious amusements."
"I certainly do know that they ought not; but I wish to know why it is wrong for them and right for others."
"You know the fact that it is so."
"No, I do not know that it is; and I wish to call your attention to the truth that the obligation to refrain from evil rests upon every rational human being in a Christian land, for God has commandedallmen to love and obey him; also, to the fact that the difference between the Christian and the sinner is that one acknowledges the obligation, while the other denies it; and that the denial does not remove the obligation. God has not invited you to love him if you prefer to do so; but he has absolutely commanded you and me to love and obey him. I have the right, if you have, to engage in any kind of amusement, and to follow my inclinations in all things; and it is your duty, equally with mine, to honor our Master's law by shunning every wicked way. Think of this, friend Henry, I entreat you, and acknowledge the responsibility which you cannot remove; and from which, after accepting, you will not desire to be released."
They had arrived at the store, and each went to his own department. These young men had entered the employment of A. B. & Sons at the same time, about twoyears before the above conversation occurred. William had gained the confidence of his employers, and had risen in position. The senior partner intended retiring from business, and was looking about for a Christian young man of ability and energy to propose as a partner for his sons; and had lately been thinking of William as a suitable person. He had observed him closely, and thought he saw in him the habits and qualifications necessary to make a successful business man.
He had also been watching Henry's course. He had heard of him at places where a young man who aspires to positions of truth and honor will never be seen, and was about proposing his discharge to the other members of the firm. He knew that a clerk whose style of living requires more money than his salary gives him will be very likely, indeed almost sure, to resort to dishonest practices to make up the deficiency. Instances of this kind are every day occurring in our cities; and as long as we meet, as we may every morning and evening in the Broadway stages, dainty looking young men, dressed in finer and fresher broadcloth than their employers wear, with heavy gold chains, fine chronometers, and diamond pins and rings, we may expect to hear of a great many more.
That morning's conversation made a deep impression upon Henry's mind. The subject had never been presented to him in that light before. He had imagined, as young persons are apt to suppose, that no moral responsibility rested upon him till he assumed it publicly by uniting with the church. Henry did not mean to die a sinner. Oh, no; he fully intended, after he had enjoyed what he consideredthe pleasures of youth, to settle down into Christian manhood. After this talk with William he could not get rid of the idea of accountability to his God. His wicked amusements and extravagant habits appeared to him as they never had done before, and he began to see their inevitable tendency. The result was an entire change in his aims and conduct. This was so marked that it very soon became known to all of his associates, and, of course, to his employers.
He remained in that house; gradually rising to the highest clerkship, and, finally, becoming the junior partner of the firm of which William had for some time been a member. His happiness and prosperity he always attributed to the word kindly spoken at the right time by his fellow clerk. He has been successful not only as a merchant, but as a Christian, exerting a powerful influence for good upon all about him, but particularly upon the young men employed in his house.
"Live for something! All createdNature doth reciprocateHer kindness. Should the animatedThis great law invalidate?Rather show thy grateful praisesTo thy God who reigns above,In acts that Sorrow's soul releases—'Words of kindness,' 'deeds of love.'"
Another CommandmentAnother Commandment
Another Commandment
A new presiding elder, Mr. N., was expected in the district; and as all the ministers stopped with Brother W. and his wife, every preparation was made to give him a cordial reception. The honest couple thought that religion in that part consisted in making parade, and therefore the parlor was put in order, a nice fire was made, and the kitchen replenished with cake, chickens, and every delicacy, preparatory to cooking. While Mr. W. was out at the wood-pile, a plain-looking, coarsely dressed, but quiet-like pedestrian, came along and asked the distance to the next town. He was told it was three miles. Being very cold, he asked permission to enter and warm himself. Assent was given very grudgingly, and both went into the kitchen. The wife looked daggers at this untimely intrusion, for the stranger had on cowhide boots, an old hat, and a threadbare, but neatly patched coat. At length she gave him a chair beside the Dutch oven which was baking nice cakes for the presiding elder, who was momentarily expected, as he was to preach the next day at the church a mile or two beyond.
The stranger, after warming himself, prepared to leave, but the weather became inclement, and as his appetite was aroused by the viands about the fire, he asked for some little refreshment ere he set out for a cold walk to the town beyond. Mrs. W. was displeased, but on consultation with her husband, cold bacon and bread were set out on an old table, and he was somewhat gruffly told to eat. It was growing dark, and hints were thrown out that the stranger had better depart, as it was three long miles to town.
The homely meal was at last concluded—the man thanked him kindly for the hospitality he had received, and opened the door to go. But it was quite dark and the clouds denoting a storm filled the heavens.
"You say it is full three miles to D——?"
"I do," said Mr. W. coldly. "I said so when you first stopped, and you ought to have pushed on, like a prudent man. You could have reached there before it was quite dark."
"But I was cold and hungry, and might have fainted by the way."
His manner of saying this touched the farmer's feelings a little.
"You have warmed and fed me, for which I am thankful. Will you now bestow another act of kindness upon one in a strange place, who if he goes out into the darkness, may lose himself and perish in the cold?"
The particular form in which this request was made, and the tone in which it was uttered, put it out of the farmer's heart to say no.
"Go in there and sit down," he answered, pointing tothe kitchen, "and I will see my wife and hear what she says."
And Mr. W. went into the parlor where the supper table stood, covered with snow-white cloth, and displaying his wife's set of blue-sprigged china, that was brought out only on special occasions.
The tall mold candles were burning thereon, and on the hearth blazed a cheerful fire.
"Hasn't that old fellow gone yet?" asked Mrs. W. She heard his voice as he returned from the door.
"No, and what do you suppose, he wants us to let him stay all night."
"Indeed, we will do no such thing. We cannot have the likes of him in the house now. Where could he sleep?"
"Not in the best room, even if Mr. N. did not come."
"No, indeed!"
"But really I don't see, Jane, how we can turn him out of doors. He doesn't look like a strong man, and it's full three miles to D——."
"It's too much; he ought to have gone on while he had daylight, and not lingered here, as he did, till it got dark."
"We can't turn him out of doors, Jane, and it's no use to think of it. He'll have to stay somehow."
"But what can we do with him?"
"He seems like a decent man at least; and doesn't look as if he had anything bad about him. We might make a bed on the floor."
When Mr. W. returned to the kitchen, where the stranger had seated himself before the fire, he informedhim that he had decided to let him stay all night. The man expressed in few words his grateful sense of their kindness, and then became silent and thoughtful. Soon after the farmer's wife, giving up all hope of Mr. N.'s arrival, had supper taken up, which consisted of coffee, warm short-cake, and broiled chicken. After all was on the table, a short conference was held as to whether it would do not to invite the stranger to take supper. It was true they had given him as much bread and bacon as he could eat, but then, as long as he was going to stay all night, it looked too inhospitable to sit down to the table and not ask him to join them. So, making a virtue of necessity, he was kindly asked to come to supper—an invitation which he did not decline. Grace was said over the meal by Mr. W., and the coffee poured, and the bread helped, and the meat carved.
There was a fine little boy, six years old, at the table, who had been brightened up and dressed in his best, in order to grace the minister's reception. Charles was full of talk, and the parents felt a mutual pride in showing him off, even before their humble guest, who noticed him particularly, though he had not much to say. "Come, Charley," said Mr. W., after the meal was over, and he sat leaning in his chair, "can't you repeat the pretty hymn mamma taught you last Sabbath?"
Charley started off without any further invitation, and repeated very accurately two or three verses of a camp-meeting hymn, that was then popular.
"Now let us hear you say the commandments, Charley," spoke up the mother, well pleased with her son's performance.
And Charley repeated them with a little prompting.
"How many commandments are there?" asked the father.
The child hesitated, and then looking at the stranger, near whom he sat, said innocently:—
"How many are there?"
The man thought for some moments, and said, as if in doubt,
"Eleven, are there not?"
"Eleven!" ejaculated Mrs. W. in unfeigned surprise.
"Eleven?" said her husband with more rebuke than astonishment in his voice. "Is it possible, sir, that you do not know how many commandments there are? How many are there, Charley? Come, tell me—you know, of course."
"Ten," replied the child.
"Right, my son," returned Mr. W., looking with a smile of approval on the child. "Right, there isn't a child of his age in ten miles who can't tell you there are ten commandments."
"Did you ever read the Bible, sir?" addressing the stranger.
"When I was a boy I used to read it sometimes. But I am sure I thought that there were eleven commandments. Are you not mistaken about there being ten?"
Sister W. lifted her hands in unfeigned astonishment, and exclaimed:—
"Could any one believe it? such ignorance of the Bible!"
Mr. W. did not reply, but rose, and going to the cornerof the room where the good book lay upon the stand, he put it on the table before him, and opened to that portion in which the commandments are recorded.
"There," he said, placing his finger upon the proof of the stranger's error, "There, look for yourself."
The man came around from his side of the table and looked over the stranger's shoulder.
"There, do'ye see?"
"Yes, it does say so," replied the man, "and yet it seems to me there are eleven. I'm sure I always thought so."
"Doesn't it say ten here?" inquired Mr. W. with marked impatience in his voice.
"It does, certainly."
"Well, what more do you want? Can't you believe the Bible?"
"Oh, yes, I believe the Bible; and yet it strikes me somehow that there must be eleven commandments. Hasn't one been added somewhere else?"
Now this was too much for Brother and Sister W. to bear. Such ignorance of sacred matters they felt to be unpardonable. A long lecture followed, in which the man was scolded, admonished, and threatened with divine indignation. At its close he modestly asked if he might have the Bible to read for an hour or two before retiring for the night. This request was granted with more pleasure than any of the preceding ones.
Christ Blessing Little ChildrenChrist Blessing Little Children
Shortly after supper the man was conducted to the little spare room, accompanied by the Bible. Before leaving him alone, Mr. W. felt it to be his duty to exhort him to spiritual things, and he did so most earnestly for ten or fifteen minutes. But he could not see that his words made much impression, and he finally left his guest, lamenting his obduracy and ignorance.
In the morning he came down, and meeting Mr. W., asked if he would be so kind as to lend him a razor, that he might remove his beard, which did not give his face a very attractive appearance. His request was complied with.
"We will have prayers in about ten minutes," said Mr. W., as he handed him the razor and shaving box.
The man appeared and behaved with due propriety at family worship. After breakfast he thanked the farmer and his wife for their hospitality, and parting went on his journey.
Ten o'clock came, but Mr. N. had not arrived. So Mr. and Mrs. W. started for the meeting-house, not doubting they would find him there. But they were disappointed. A goodly number of people were inside the meeting-house, and a goodly number outside, but the minister had not arrived.
"Where is Mr. N——?" inquired a dozen voices, as a crowd gathered around the farmer.
"He hasn't come yet. Something has detained him. But I still look for him—indeed, I fully expected to find him here."
The day was cold, and Mr. W., after becoming thoroughly chilled, concluded to keep a good lookout for the minister from the window near which he usually sat. Others, from the same cause, followed his example, and the little meeting-house was soon filled, and one after anothercame dropping in. The farmer, who turned towards the door each time it was opened, was a little surprised to see his guest of the previous evening enter, and come slowly down the aisle, looking on either side, as if searching for a vacant seat, very few of which were now left. Still advancing, he finally got within the little enclosed altar, and ascended to the pulpit, took off his old grey overcoat and sat down.
By this time Mr. W. was by his side, and had his hand upon his arm.
"You mustn't sit here. Come down and I will show you a seat," he said, in an excited tone.
"Thank you," replied the man in a composed voice. "It is very comfortable here." And the man remained immovable.
Mr. W., feeling embarrassed, went down, intending to get a brother "official" to assist him in making a forcible ejection of the man from the place he was desecrating. Immediately upon his doing so, however, the man rose, and standing up at the desk, opened the hymn-book. His voice thrilled to the finger ends of Brother W. as in a distinct and impressive manner he gave out the hymn beginning:
"Help us to help each other, Lord,Each other's cross to bear;Let each his friendly aid afford,And feel a brother's care."
The congregation rose, after the stranger had read the entire hymn, and had repeated the first two lines for them to sing. Brother W. usually started the tunes. He tried this time, but went off on a long meter tune. Discoveringhis mistake at the second word, he balked and tried it again, but now he stumbled on short meter. A musical brother came to his aid and led off with a tune that suited the measure in which the hymn was written. After singing, the congregation knelt, and the minister—for no one doubted his real character—addressed the throne of grace with much fervor and eloquence. The reading of a chapter in the Bible succeeded. Then there was a deep pause throughout the room in anticipation of the text, which the preacher prepared to announce.
The dropping of a pin might have been heard. Then the fine, emphatic tones of the preacher filled the room:—
"A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another."
Brother W. had bent forward to listen, but now he sunk back in his seat. This was the eleventh commandment.
The sermon was deep, searching, yet affectionate and impressive. The preacher uttered nothing that could in the least wound the brother and sister of whose hospitality he had partaken, but he said much that smote upon their hearts, and made them painfully conscious that they had not shown as much kindness to the stranger as he had been entitled to receive on the broad principles of humanity. But they suffered more from mortification of feeling. To think that they had treated the presiding elder of the district after such a fashion was deeply humiliating; and the idea of the whole affair getting abroad interfered sadly with their devotional feelings throughout the whole period of service.
At last the sermon was over, the ordinance administeredand the benediction pronounced. Brother W. did not know what was best for him to do. He never was more at a loss in his life. Then Mr. N. descended from the pulpit; but he did not step forward to meet him. How could he do that? Others gathered around him, but still he lingered and held back.
"Where is Brother W.?" he at length heard asked. It was the voice of the minister.
"Here he is," said one or two, opening the way to where the farmer stood.
The preacher advanced, and catching his hand, said:—
"How do you do, Brother W., I am glad to see you. And where is Sister W.?"
Sister W. was brought forward, and the preacher shook hands with them heartily, while his face was lit up with smiles.
"I believe I am to find a home with you," he said, as if it was settled.
Before the still embarrassed brother and sister could make reply, some one asked:—
"How came you to be detained so late? You were expected last night. And where is Brother R.?"
"Brother R. is sick," replied Mr. N., "and I had to come alone. Five miles from this my horse gave out, and I had to come the rest of the way on foot. But I became so cold and weary, that I found it necessary to ask a farmer not far from here, to give me a night's lodging, which he was kind enough to do. I thought I was still three miles off, but it happened that I was very much nearer my journey's end than I supposed."
This explanation was satisfactory to all parties, and in due time the congregation dispersed, and the presiding elder went home with Brother and Sister W.
THE TEN COMMANDMENTS.
I
Thou shalt have no other gods before me.
II
Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me; and showing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments.
III
Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.
IV
Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work; but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates: for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day, and hallowed it.
V
Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.
VI
Thou shalt not kill.
VII
Thou shalt not commit adultery.
VIII
Thou shalt not steal.
IX
Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.
X
Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbor's.
Make It Plain.
On the sixteenth day after the battle of Gettysburg, I entered the room where a young wounded colonel was apparently near to death. As I entered, he was roused from his stupor and beckoned me to his bedside, and threw his feeble arms around my neck.
"O my father, how glad I am to see you. I was afraid you would not come till it was too late. I am too feeble to say much, though I have a great many things to say to you; you must do all the talking. Tell me all about dear mother and sister."
I soon perceived by the appearance of those in the house, that there was no hope entertained of his recovery. But as I could no longer endure the agony of suspense, I at last inquired of the doctor, "Doctor, what do you think of my son's case?"
"Entirely hopeless."
"But is there nothing more that can be done to save him?"
"No, sir. Every thing that human skill and kindness can do has been done. Your son has been a brave and very successful officer; has been a great favorite in the army; has won the highest esteem of all who have known him, but he now must die. Immediately after the amputation the gangrene set in, and defies all efforts to arrest it."
"Well, Doctor, how long do you think he can live?"
"Not more than four days. He may drop away at any hour. We are constantly fearing that an artery will give way, and then it is all over with the colonel. What you wish to do in reference to his death, you had better do at once."
"Have you, or has any one, told him of his real condition?"
"No. We have left that painful duty for you to do, as we have been expecting your arrival for several days."
As I entered the room with the dreadful message of death pressing on my heart, the eyes of my son fastened on me.
"Come, sit by my side, father. Have you been talking with the doctor about me?"
"Yes."
"What did he tell you? Does he think I shall recover?"
There was a painful hesitation for a moment.
"Don't be afraid to tell me just what he said."
"He told me you must die."
"How long does he think I can live?"
"Not to exceed four days, and that you may drop away any hour,—that an artery may slough at any moment which you cannot survive."
With great agitation he exclaimed,
"Father, is that so? Then I must die! I cannot. I must not die! Oh! I am not prepared to die now. Do tell me how I can get ready? Make it so plain that I can get hold of it. Tell me, in a few words, if you can, so thatI can see it plainly. I know you can, father, for I used to hear you explain it to others."
'T was no time now for tears, but for calmness and light, by which to lead the soul to Christ, and both were given.
"My son, I see you are afraid to die."
"Yes, I am."
"Well, I suppose you feel guilty."
"Yes, that is it. I have been a wicked young man. You know how it is in the army."
"You want to be forgiven, don't you?"
"Oh, yes! That is what I want. Can I be, father?"
"Certainly."
"Can I know it before I die?"
"Certainly."
"Well now, father, make it so plain that I can get hold of it."
At once, an incident which occurred during the school days of my son, came to my mind. I had not thought of it before for several years. Now it came back to me, fresh with its interest, and just what was wanted to guide the agitated heart of this young inquirer to Jesus.
"Do you remember while at school in —— you came home one day, and I having occasion to rebuke you, you became very angry and abused me with harsh language?"
"Yes, father, I was thinking it all over a few days ago, as I thought of your coming to see me, and felt so bad about it, that I wanted to see you, and once more ask you to forgive me."
"Do you remember, how, after the paroxysm of your anger had subsided, you came in, and threw your armsaround my neck, and said, 'My dear father, I am sorry I abused you so. It was not your loving son that did it. I was very angry. Won't you forgive me?'"
"Yes, I remember it very distinctly."
"Do you remember what I said to you as you wept upon my neck?"
"Very well. You said, 'I forgive you with all my heart,' and kissed me. I shall never forget those words."
"Did you believe me?"
"Certainly. I never doubted your word."
"Did you then feel happy again?"
"Yes, perfectly; and since that time I have loved you more than ever before. I shall never forget how it relieved me when you looked upon me so kindly, and said, 'I forgive you with all my heart.'"
"Well, now, this is just the way to come to Jesus. Tell him you are sorry just as you told me, and ten thousand times quicker than a father's love forgave you, will he forgive you. He says he will. Then you must take his word for it, just as you did mine."
"Why, father, is this the way to become a Christian?"
"I don't know of any other."
"Why, father, I can get hold of this. I am so glad you have come to tell me how."
He turned his head upon his pillow for rest. I sank into my chair and wept freely, for my heart could no longer suppress its emotions. I had done my work, and committed the case to Christ. He, too, I was soon assured had done his. The broken heart had made its confession, had heard what it longed for, "I forgive you," and believed it. Itwas but a few moments of silence, but the new creation had taken place, the broken heart had made its short, simple prayer, and believed, and the new heart had been given. A soul had passed out from nature's darkness into marvelous light, and from the power of sin and Satan unto God.
I soon felt the nervous hand on my head, and heard the word "father," in such a tone of tenderness and joy, that I knew the change had come.
"Father, my dear father, I don't want you to weep any more, you need not. I am perfectly happy now. Jesus has forgiven me. I know he has, for he says so, and I take his word for it, just as I did yours. Wipe your tears. I am not afraid to die now. If it is God's will, I should like to live to serve my country, and take care of you and mother, but if I must die, I am not afraid to now, Jesus has forgiven me. Come, father, let us sing,—
"'When I can read my title clear,'"
And we did sing.
"Now, father, I want you should pray, and I will follow you."
We did pray, and Jesus heard us.
"Father, I am very happy. Why, I believe I shall get well. I feel much better."
From that hour all his symptoms changed—pulse went down, and countenance brightened. The current of life had changed.
The doctor soon came in and found him cheerful and happy—looked at him—felt his pulse, which he had been watching with intense anxiety, and said,—
"Why, Colonel, you look better."
"I am better, Doctor. I am going to get well. My father has told me how to become a Christian, and I am very happy. I believe I shall recover, for God has heard my prayer. Doctor, I want you should become a Christian, too. My father can tell you how to get hold of it."
In the evening three surgeons were in consultation, but saw no hope in the case, and one of them took his final leave of the colonel.
Next morning the two surgeons, who had been in constant attendance, came in and began as usual to dress the wound.
On opening the bandage, they suddenly drew back, and throwing up their arms, exclaimed,—
"Great God, this is a miracle! The gangrene is arrested, and the colonel will live! God has heard your prayers!"
"Why, Doctor," replied the colonel, "I told you yesterday, that I believed I should get well, for I asked Jesus that I might live to do some good. I knew he heard my prayer, and now you see he has. Bless the Lord with me, Doctor."
Meanwhile, "Our son must die," had gone over the wires, and made sadness at home. Next day, "Our son will live, and is happy in Christ," followed, and joy came again to the loved ones.
After his recovery, the colonel returned to the people whose sons he had led with honor through fifteen hard-fought battles. They, in return, gave him the best office in the gift of a loyal and grateful people. Among them he now lives in prosperity and honor, he is a member of thechurch of Christ, and the father of a happy family growing up around him, and consecrated to the service of his Redeemer.
I, too, was made a better man and better minister by that scene, where this dear son, struggling with his guilt and fear of death, was led to Jesus, and found the pardon of his sins. I there resolved never to forget that charge he made me, in his extremity:"Make it so plain that I can get hold of it."
I have made this the motto of every sermon I have preached, and God has blessed the effort.