Hope the befriending,Does what she can, for she points evermore up to heaven, and faithfulPlunges her anchor’s peak in the depths of the grave, and beneath itPaints a more beautiful world* * * ** * *Then praise we our Father in Heaven,Him, who has given us more; for to us has Hope been illumined;Groping no longer in night; she is Faith, she is living assurance;Faith is enlighten’d hope; she is light, is the eye of affection;Dreams of the longing interprets, and carves their visions in marble;Faith is the sun of life; and her countenance shines like the Prophet’s,For she has look’d upon God.—Evangeline.
Hope the befriending,Does what she can, for she points evermore up to heaven, and faithfulPlunges her anchor’s peak in the depths of the grave, and beneath itPaints a more beautiful world* * * ** * *Then praise we our Father in Heaven,Him, who has given us more; for to us has Hope been illumined;Groping no longer in night; she is Faith, she is living assurance;Faith is enlighten’d hope; she is light, is the eye of affection;Dreams of the longing interprets, and carves their visions in marble;Faith is the sun of life; and her countenance shines like the Prophet’s,For she has look’d upon God.—Evangeline.
Hope the befriending,Does what she can, for she points evermore up to heaven, and faithfulPlunges her anchor’s peak in the depths of the grave, and beneath itPaints a more beautiful world* * * ** * *Then praise we our Father in Heaven,Him, who has given us more; for to us has Hope been illumined;Groping no longer in night; she is Faith, she is living assurance;Faith is enlighten’d hope; she is light, is the eye of affection;Dreams of the longing interprets, and carves their visions in marble;Faith is the sun of life; and her countenance shines like the Prophet’s,For she has look’d upon God.—Evangeline.
THERE were anxious enquiries mingling with the glad welcome which Halbert Melville received as he entered his own house on that clear cold winter’s morning,—for the evening’s rain had passed away, and frost had set in once more—enquiries that showed the interest which both his own Mary and Christian—for Christian’s society, though she did not allow it to be monopolised by either, was claimed in part by both the Marys, and her time divided between them—felt in the unhappy sufferer.
“Does Mary know, Christian?†was one of Halbert’s first questions.
“Yes,†was the answer, “and much was she shocked and grieved, of course; as was Charles also, but we were all rejoiced to hear from him that a happy influence seemed at work before he left you. Has it gone on? Can he see any light yet, Halbert?â€
“I dare not answer you, Christian,†said her brother gravely. “I know too well the nature of Forsyth’s feelings to expect that he should speedily have entire rest; but God has different ways of working with differentindividuals, and I have reason to give Him thanks for my own terrible experience, as I believe my account of it was the means of softening the heart of yon poor despairing man.â€
“How wonderful, Halbert,†said Christian, laying her hand on his shoulder; “how wonderful are the ways and workings of Providence. Who could have imagined that you were to be the instrument, as I trust and pray you may be, of turning your old tempter from the evil of his ways, and leading him into the way of salvation!â€
A month of the new year glided rapidly away, when one mild Sabbath morning, a thin pale man, prematurely aged, entered Halbert Melville’s church. The exertion of walking seemed very great and painful to him, and he tottered, even though leaning on his staff, as he passed along to a seat. A sickly hue was still upon his wasted features, and the hair that shaded his high forehead was white, apparentlymore from sorrow than from years. When he had seated himself, he cast around him a humble wistful glance, as though he felt himself alone and begged for sympathy; and people of kindly nature who took their places near him, felt themselves powerfully drawn to the lonely stranger who looked so pale, and weak, and humble, and wondered who he was; and many of them who watched him with involuntary interest, noticed the quick flush that passed over his face as Mary Hamilton entered, and how he gazed upon the other Mary, and lingered with glistening eyes on every little one of the two smiling families, as though their childish grace rejoiced his heart; but the observers wondered still more when their minister had entered the pulpit to see the big round tears which fell silently upon the stranger’s open Bible, and the expression of almost womanly tenderness that shone in every line of his upturned face. Mr. Melville,they said afterwards, was like a man inspired that day—so clear, so full, so powerful was his sermon. His text was in one of Isaiah’s sublime prophecies. “Look unto me and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth, for I am God, and besides me there is none else.†And as he drew with rapid pencil the glorious character of the divine speaker, in all the majesty of the original Godhead, and also of his Mediatorial glory, his hearers felt that he that day spoke like one inspired. Vividly he described them lost in natural darkness, groping about the walls of their prison-house, labouring to grasp the meteor light which flitted hither and thither about each earthly boundary, hopeless and helpless, when this voice rang through the gloom, “Look unto me and be ye saved.†Vividly he pictured the entering light, which to the saved followed these words of mercy, steady, unfailing, and eternal, that sprung from point to point ofthese desolate spirit cells, illuminating the walls with heavenly radiance, and making them prisons no longer, but changing them into temples dedicate to the worship of the highest. “My brethren,†said the eloquent preacher, bending down in his earnestness, as though he would speak to each individual ere he concluded. “There are those among you who know the blessedness of being thus plucked from the everlasting burnings—there are among you those who have worn out years in a fiery struggle before they found rest;†and the voice of the preacher trembled; “and there are those whose anguish has been compressed into a little round of days; but I know also that there are some here who can echo the words of one who knew in his own dread experience the agony of despair:
“‘I was a stricken deer that left the herdLong since, with many an arrow deep infixedMy panting sides were charged;’
“‘I was a stricken deer that left the herdLong since, with many an arrow deep infixedMy panting sides were charged;’
“‘I was a stricken deer that left the herdLong since, with many an arrow deep infixedMy panting sides were charged;’
and I rejoice to know that here there are those who can continue in the same words—
“‘There ’twas I met One who had himselfBeen hit by the archers, in his hands he boreAnd in his pierced side, their cruel wounds;With gentle force soliciting the darts,He drew them out, and heal’d, and bade me live.’
“‘There ’twas I met One who had himselfBeen hit by the archers, in his hands he boreAnd in his pierced side, their cruel wounds;With gentle force soliciting the darts,He drew them out, and heal’d, and bade me live.’
“‘There ’twas I met One who had himselfBeen hit by the archers, in his hands he boreAnd in his pierced side, their cruel wounds;With gentle force soliciting the darts,He drew them out, and heal’d, and bade me live.’
and, oh, my brethren, did you but know the fearful suffering, the hopeless anguish that follows a course of lost opportunities and despised mercies, you would not need that I should bid you flee! escape for your lives, tarry not in the cell, the plain fair and well watered, and like the garden of the Lord though it seem; escape to the mountain lest ye be consumed. ‘Look unto me and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth, for I am God, and besides me there is none else.’â€
The face of the lonely stranger is hidden, but those who sit near him are turning round in wonder at the echoing sob which bore witness to the effect of these thrilling wordsupon his mind; but when the minister had closed his book, and the people united their voices in praise before the service ended, the weak low accents of that humble man were heard mingling among them, for he had foundhope, even such hope and peace as the preacher of this day had proclaimed in yonder dim sick-chamber to its dying occupant; and this lowly man was he, raised as by a miracle at once from the gates of hell, and from the brink of the grave. With gentle sympathy did Halbert Melville, his work of mercy over, press the hand of that grateful man; with kindly anticipation of his unexpressed wish did he bring the children one by one before him, and they wondered in their happy youthfulness as the hand of that slender stooping figure trembled on each graceful head; and when the two little Marys hand in hand came smiling up Forsyth did not ask their names. He discovered too clearly the resemblance shining inthe daughter, and scarce less distant in the niece of Mary Melville of old, and he murmured blessings upon them. He feared to hear the name which brought so many painful recollections in its sweet and pleasant sound.
But when a little time had passed away, Forsyth learned to love the very shadow of Mary Melville’s eldest born, and cherished her as she sprang up in graceful girlhood, as though she had been the child of his own old age, the daughter of his heart. The solitary stranger was soon better known to the hearers of the Rev. Halbert Melville, for he lingered about the place as though its very stones were dear to him. Forsyth had made no friends in his long season of sinful wealth and prosperity—gay acquaintances he had had in plenty who joined his guiltiness, and called themselves friends, until the new course of folly and excess on which he entered with headlong avidity after Mary Melville rejected him, haddissipated his substance and made him poor, and then the forlorn sufferer in his obscure apartment found out the true value of these his heartless companions’ friendship. But now, a new man among friends on whose unworldly sincerity he could rely without a shadow of a doubt, his very worldly prospects brightened, and gathering the remnants of his broken fortunes, he began now to use the remainder of God’s once abundant gifts with a holy prudence, that made his small substance more valuable a thousand fold, than the larger income that had been so lavishly expended in the long years of his guilt and darkness; a changed man was he in every particular, the talent which made him foremost in the ranks of infidelity was laid upon God’s altar now, a consecrated thing, and men who knew him first after his great changes, marvelled at his strange humility, so unlike the world in its simple lowliness. When he was told of thesinful and erring he bent his head and blamed them not, for the remembrance of his own sins filled him with gentlest charity, and when deed of mercy was to be done, that needed earnest exertion and zealous heart, the mild and gentle Forsyth was ever foremost delighting in the labour.
The threads of our tale have nearly run out; and we have but, as knitters say, to take them up ere we finish. Our Halbert Melville is famed and honoured; a wise and earnest minister, faithful and fervent in his pulpit, unwearying in daily labour. His gentle Mary becomes the sweet dignity of her matronhood well, rejoicing in the happy guardianship of these fair children. Nor is the other Mary less blessed: the liberal heavens have rained down gifts upon them all; seed-time and harvest, summer and winter, have passed over their heads; but death and sorrow, making sad visits to many homes around them, andleaving havoc and desolation in their train, have never in their stern companionship come across these peaceful thresholds. Now we must draw the veil, lest we should feel the hot breath of sickness in these happy households, or see the approaching shadow of grief darkening their pleasant doorways.
Our friend James grows rich apace; and were you to see his portly figure and shining face “on Change,†where merchants most do congregate, you would be at no loss to understand why his opinion is now so weighty and influential. Messrs. Rutherford and Melville left a goodly beginning for their more enterprising successor; and James is now a most prosperous, because a most enterprising man. Robert, too, though at a distance in another city, the resident partner of his brother’s great house, speeds well in his vocation; and wedding one of his gentle sister-in-law’s kindred, has made up our tale. TheMelvilles are truly, as Mary said, a happy family.
But how shall we say farewell to our companion of so many days and various vicissitudes—our generous single-minded Christian Melville; fain would we linger over every incident of thy remaining story. Fain look upon thee once more, dear Christian, in the sacred quietness of thine own chamber, recalling the holy memories of the past. Fain go with thee through thy round of duties, rejoicing in the love which meets thy gracious presence everywhere. Fain would we add to our brief history another tale, recording how the stubborn resolutions of a second Halbert would yield to no persuasions less gentle than thine; and how the guileless hearts of the twain Marys unfolded their most secret thinkings in sweetest confidence to only thee; how thou wert cherished, and honoured, and beloved, dear Christian; how willingly would we tell, howglad look forward through the dim future, to prophesy thee years of happiness as bright and unclouded as this, and testify to the truth of that old saying of Halbert’s, “that Christian would never grow old.†But now we must bid thee farewell, knowing how “thy soul, like a quiet palmer, travellest unto the land of heaven;†and believing well that, Christian, whatever may happen to thee in thy forward journey, however it may savour now, be it fresh trials or increased joys, will work nothing but final good and pleasantness to thy subdued and heavenly spirit—has not our Father said that all things shall work together for good to them that love God as thou dost?—bringing but a more abundant entrance at thy latter days into the high inheritance in thy Father’s Kingdom, which waits for the ending of thy pilgrimage, dear Christian Melville.
THE END.————BILLING, PRINTER, GUILDFORD, SURREY.
[The image of the book's back cover is unavailable.]