"Rejoice, ye Christians all,His Son by God is given," &c.
to the glorious melody, "Aus meines Herzens Grund!" Then, when the mighty sounds died away, followed the preaching, upon Hebrews xi. 32-40.'"
"Read that passage, Maggie," said her uncle.
Maggie read:
"'And what shall I more say? for the time would fail me to tell of Gideon, and of Barak, and of Samson, and of Jephthah; of David also, and Samuel, and of the prophets: who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens. Women received their dead raised to life again: and others were tortured, not accepting deliverance; that they might obtain a better resurrection: and others had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover of bonds and imprisonments: they were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword: they wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented; (of whom the world was not worthy;) they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.'—Uncle Eden, that was a great while ago, wasn't it?"
"Thatwas."
"But I mean, people don't do so now, do they?"
"Not here, just now, in America. But nothing is changed in human nature or the relations of the two parties, since the Lord said to the serpent, 'I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed.'"
"But does that meanthat, Uncle Eden? I thought the seed of the woman was Christ?"
"It is. But the devil fights against Christ in the persons of his people; and the 'seed of the serpent,' the children of the devil, hate the children of God, from Cain's time down. 'If they have persecuted me they will also persecute you,' the Lord said."
"There is no persecution here, though, in this country, Mr. Murray?" said Flora.
"Not persecution with fire and sword. But nothing is changed, Miss Flora. It will be fire and sword again, just so soon as the devil sees his opportunity. So all history assures us. Go on, Meredith; let us see what Pastor Harms made of his text—or doesn't he tell?"
"I'll go on, sir, and you'll see. 'As you have just heard out of the Holy Scriptures, so it has been, my dear friends, with the faithful witnesses and martyrs of the truth; hacked to pieces, run through the body, slain with the sword, or left to wander in the deserts, on the mountains, in dens and caves of the earth, of whom the world was not worthy. Even in the New Testament we read how Peter and Paul had to suffer imprisonment, how Stephen was stoned, James beheaded with the sword; how the Jews persecuted all the confessors of the most blessed Saviour, dragged them out of their houses, threw them into prisons, and took joy in stoning them. And even as the Jews began it, the heathen have carried it on; and not hundreds or thousands, but many hundred thousands of Christians in the ten great Christian persecutions sealed their belief in the Lord Jesus and their faithful confession of His holy name with their blood. In our last year's Mission festival in Müden, I told you how the holy apostles Peter and Paul met their death like heroes and martyrs; our beloved Hermannsburg church is named after them; and I told you about Saint Lawrence, after whom the church in Müden is called. "And to-day," you are questioning, "to-day are you going to tell us about martyrs again? We conclude so, from the text you have chosen! But wherefore always about martyrs?" My beloved, I have a special love to the martyrs; and I do not know how it happens, at every Mission festival they comewith special vividness before my mind. I believe it arises from this: that I am persuaded the ever-growing zeal for missions among all earnest Christians is a token that before long the Church of Christ will have to take her flight out of Europe; and so the unconscious efforts of Christians is towards preparing a place for the Church among the wilds of heathenism. And therefore I believe that the times of martyrdom will cease to be far-off times for us any longer; that the kingdom of Antichrist is drawing near with speedier and speedier steps, is becoming daily more powerful; the apostasy from Christ is becoming constantly greater and more decided; Christianity is growing more and more like a putrid carcass, and where the carcass is, there the eagles are gathered together. And therefore missions are becoming more evidently the banner around which all living Christians rally; for what is written in the Revelation xii. 14-17, will soon receive its fulfilment. And when I see such great crowds of Christians singing praise and keeping holy day, then the thought always comes to me, How would it be if persecution were to break loose now? would all these be true witnesses and martyrs, and rather bear suffering, and yield up the last drop of their blood and endure any torments, than fall away and deny Christ? Oh, and when I reflect how mightily in those times of bloody persecution the Christian Church gave her testimony and fought and suffered; what a power of Faith, Hope, and Love made itself known, that could shout for joy at the stake; and when I think how cold, how lukewarm, how loveless Christianity is now—I could almost wish for a mighty persecution to come, to break up the rotten peace of Christians, who have grown easy and luxurious and to arouse again the right heroism of the soldiers of God.
"'It is not only in the times of the Jews and the Romans, at the first founding of the Christian Church, that such mighty battles of heroes have been fought; the dear and blessed time of the Reformation has had its martyrs, who for the pure Word and true sacrament of our beloved Lutheran Church staked their persons and lives. Who doesnot know those two faithful disciples, who amid songs of praise were burned at the stake at Cologne on the Rhine? that Heinrich von Zutphen who had to give up his life in Ditmarsh? those thousands who were murdered or burned by the Catholic Inquisition? those thousands who had to pine away in the prisons and cloisters of the Catholics? without reckoning the hundreds of thousands in the religious wars stirred up by the Catholics, who made the battle-fields fat with their blood, and have died for the faith of their Church? And now I will tell you why I have brought you here to-day to this Tiefenthal. We stand upon holy ground here, upon ground of the martyrs. Hear what your fathers suffered for the sake of the pure, true Word and sacrament.
"'The story that I am going to tell you must have been acted out somewhere between 1521 and 1530. For in the chronicle where I have read the story mention is made of the Diet at Speier, but nothing is said of the Diet at Augsburg.'"
"Stop, Ditto, please," said Maggie. "What's adiet?"
"The supreme council of the German Empire, composed of princes and representatives of independent cities of the empire. The famous Diet of Augsburg was held in 1530."
"What was it famous for?"
"Famous for an open, bold confession and declaration of the Protestant faith by a few Protestant princes in the midst of the crowd of Catholics assembled at the Diet."
"Well, Meredith!"
"'Nothing is said of the Diet at Augsburg. And certainly some mention would have been made of it if it had already taken place, since our beloved princes the Dukes Ernst and Francis of Lüneburg had their share in the precious confession of faith. At that time there was in Hermannsburg a young Catholic pastor, descended from a noble patrician family; he was called Christopher Grünhagen, and was a kind-hearted man. One day'"——
"Stop a minute, Ditto. Some people were Catholics then, and some were Protestants?"
"Why, that is how they are now, Maggie," said her sister.
"But I mean, there—in Germany."
"It is so still in Germany," said Meredith. "But then was just the beginning of the Reformation, Maggie. Luther was preaching, and the world was in a stir generally."
"'One day there comes to Pastor Grünhagen a sort of artisan fellow, who asked for a bit of bread. It was in winter time, and the poor man was quite benumbed with cold. Pastor Grünhagen took pity on him, had him served with food and drink, and made him sit down in theFlett(that is, the open hall of the house with its low fireplace) that he might also warm his cold limbs. After the man had eaten, not forgetting to pray either, he stretched his legs comfortably down by the warm hearth, and then drew a small MS. book out of his pocket, in which he began to read with eager and devout attention. Grünhagen wondered that the man could read, and more especially that he could read writing. Now, indeed, an artisan would take it ill if anybody were surprised to find him able to read. But the fact that all of us, even the poorest and the smallest, can read now, is just one of the blessings of the Reformation, under which the first schools for the people were established. In those days only scholars and priests could read, and the laity, even the nobles, knew nothing about it. So Grünhagen steps up curiously to the remarkable artisan who knows so much as to read, and asks him, "Pray what have you there?" For all answer, the man hands him the book. Grünhagen takes it and reads and reads, and the more he reads the more eagerly and attentively he devours what he finds there. It was a copy of Luther's smaller catechism. Like a lightning flash darts through his soul the thought, "What stands in this book isTHE TRUTH." He asks his guest now where he has come from? The answer is, "From Wittenberg; I have heard Luther preach there, and I brought away this catechism with me."
"'Why he had a written copy of the catechism, and not a printed one, I cannot tell you; perhaps he had not been able to buy a printed copy, and had been at the pains ofwriting it out; but that is not said in the chronicle. And now, while I am speaking of the catechism, I will show you also that I am a scholar. Therefore know that Luther printed his smaller catechism in the year of grace 1529; because in the two years previous he had been travelling about all through Saxony, examining the churches; and had found that the pastors were so stupid that they did not know even the principal things. Therefore, and surely with the assistance of the Holy Spirit, he wrote the small catechism, which I hold to be the best of all human books. Before that, however, he had already written some similar works; for example, a short exposition on the ten commandments, the Creed, and the Paternoster; from which, on account of its remarkable quality, I will quote a little. So in it Luther says—"The first commandment is trangressed by every one who in his difficulties turns to sorcery, the black art of the devil's allies; every one who makes that use of letters, signs, words, herbs, charms and the like; whoever uses divining-rods, treasure-conjurings, clairvoyance, and the like; whoever orders his work and his life according to lucky days, sky tokens, and the sayings of soothsayers. The third commandment is trangressed by those who eat, drink, play, dance, and carry on unholy doings; by those who in indolence sleep away the time of divine service, or miss it, or spend it in pleasure drives or walks, or in useless chatter; by whoever works or does business without special need; by whoever does not pray, does not think on Christ's sufferings, does not repent of his sins and long for mercy; and who, therefore, only in outward things, as dressing, eating, and posture-taking, keeps the day holy."
"'I have brought forward this proof of learning only to show you that good people are not quite so simple as perhaps they look; and now I will go on with my story.
"'Grünhagen was so delighted with the dear catechism that he says to the workman, "Friend, you must stay with me long enough to let me make a copy of your MS., for you won't get the book again before I have done that." The friend was very willing to have it so; and now they madean honest exchange one with the other. For the pastor ministered to the poor, starved and frozen body of the artisan, and the artisan ministered to the poor, starved and frozen soul of the pastor. Day by day his accounts grew more and more fiery and spirited about Luther's powerful preaching, about the many thousands who were streaming to Wittenberg to hear the man of God, about the German Bible which Luther had translated, about the glorious songs of praise which the Lutherans sung, about the pure Sacrament in both kinds; that is, that in Wittenberg both the bread and the wine were given to the communicants, and not the bread merely, as is done by the Papists against the Lord's commandment. He told how, amidst all the rage of his foes, Luther was so joyful and brave, that on one occasion he said to the electoral prince of Saxony, who he saw had become anxious, "I do not ask your princely grace to protect me, for I am under much higher protection, which will take good care of what concerns me." Grünhagen's whole soul was moved by these narrations.
"'After a good many days he let the workman go, laden with gifts, and with tears in his eyes dismissed him; for through him he had learned to know the truth. And now he goes to study. Soon the little catechism is fixed in his heart and his head; and now he procures Luther's other works, and first of all the New Testament. And then he can conceal it from himself no longer, that the Word of God and the sacrament are basely falsified in the Romish Church, and that he himself, without knowing it, has been all this while misleading the people; he who in his office as pastor should have been a servant of God. This thought burns into his inmost soul, so that he almost falls into despondency. But soon he finds grace through faith in the dear blood of Jesus Christ. And now in him also that word goes into fulfilment—"I believe, therefore have I spoken." He begins to preach the pure Word of God, in demonstration of the Spirit and of power; he begins to give to communicants the whole, entire supper, the emblems of Christ's body and blood; and he teaches the children the catechism. Andhow could he fail of fruit. The parish of Hermannsburg stirs with life, the whole region is waked up, and thousands come to hear God's Word. Oh, that must have been a blessed time, when the Holy Ghost breathed thus upon the dry bones, and the Light shined in the darkness. But then, too, the Cross could not fail; for on the baptism of the Spirit follows always the baptism of fire; and David in the very psalm quoted above says, "I believed, therefore have I spoken.I was greatly afflicted."
"'There was at that time in Hermannsburg a warden—that is, a steward and judge in one person—who was called Andreas Ludwig von Feuershütz (from whom the neighbouring property still keeps the name of Feuershützenbostel), a rash, determined man, and very zealous for the old Popish Church. Writing in those days did not amount to much; the warden's scribes were his soldiers. So he went to the pastor, and without any circumlocution forbade him to preach the Lutheran heresy, adding, "If you don't stop it, I'll shut the door before your nose." When Grünhagen rejected this demand as an improper one, and told him to attend to his office, but leave the church to the pastor, the warden grew wrathful, and called Grünhagen a renegade heretic; and the next Sunday he actually did set his soldiers to keep the church doors and closed the entrance to pastor and congregation both. The thousands who followed their pastor were not unwilling to use violence against the doer of violence; but Grünhagen prevented that, and tried to hold divine service in his house, and, when that also was interfered with, in the houses of the peasants. But wherever they might be, the warden would come with his soldiers and break up the service.
"'And this went on for many a week, and yet so great was the power of Grünhagen's good influence over the believers, that no act of violence was attempted against their tyrants. At last one day the following peasants, Hans von Hiester, Michel Behrens, and Albrecht Lutterloh of Lutterloh, Karsten Lange of Ollendorf, and the great Meyer from Weesen, came to Grünhagen and told him theyknew a spot in the heath, still and solitary and remote, which neither highroad nor footpath came near; the warden could not easily find it out: "Let us go there on Sundays and hear God's Word from your mouth!" And so it was arranged. Quietly one tells it to another, and no one betrays it. The next Sunday, while it is still night, the house doors everywhere open, the indwellers come out one by one, and travel in mist and darkness, by distant paths, through moor, heather, and thicket, hither to Tiefenthal. Grünhagen is there, and with him is his clerk, Gottlob, a believer, converted by his pastor's means; and he carries the sweet burden of the church service. O my beloved! here stood Grünhagen; here were your fathers who renounced false idols and worshipped their Saviour according to the pure Word and ordinance He has given; their songs of praise echoed here, here they bent the knee; for a long while your fathers' house of God was here under the blue heaven; here were the new-born children baptized in the name of the triune God, and the grown men and women were fed with the bread and wine which mean the body and blood of the Lord, and so received new strength to mount up with wings of eagles. In this place your fathers grew to a strength of faith which would waver no more. But more trials were coming upon them. The warden was struck by the sudden quietness; he had expected that new attempts would be made to get into the church. He guessed that something was going on, and could not find out what it was. So he set his soldiers on to serve as sleuth-hounds, and they scented the game so well that they discovered the whole. Then one Sunday morning he got up early and watched with bitter rage to see how the people came out of all the houses, men, women, young men and girls, old men and children, all quiet and yet so joyous, dressed in their Sunday clothes, and hastening to Tiefenthal. Stealthily he followed after them, and at their place of refuge heard them preach and sing and pray. Suddenly he heard his own name spoken; it gave him a great shock; he heard the pastor praying for his conversion and the congregation sayingAmen. Then a great surging and conflict of feelings arose in his brazen heart. But the time was not yet come. He dashed down the tears that would come into his eyes, and let his supposed duty get the victory. Resolved to suppress the hated heresy that had almost made him soft, but too weak to do it with the force at his command, he made known the affair to the justiciary of Zelle and asked for help. The Zelle justiciary, nothing loath, next Sunday dispatched two hundred of his soldiers, who lay hid in the wood till the congregation had assembled. Then they broke forth, surrounded our fathers, just as they were gathered around their beloved pastor for the holding of divine service, fell first of all upon Grünhagen himself and the crowd which pressed round him, laid hold of him and dragged him off, and a hundred others with him, to Zelle, with brutal ill-treatment. There the captives were obliged to pass three days and three nights in the courtyard of the official's house, in snow and ice (it was in November), and it was only with difficulty that they could get a bit of bread to eat. Then they were thrown into prison; and there for a long time our fathers had to share the bonds and imprisonment of God's faithful servant; but no threats, no contumely, no distress could move them to apostasy, from the faith they had confessed.
"'How long they lay there I do not know. At last, when the Dukes came back from Augsburg, the hour of their freedom struck; they were let go, and returned to their homes shedding thankful tears; the church was again opened to them too, and the heroic Grünhagen preached the gospel to his people anew with fresh power. Then also struck the warden's hour of grace; he grew tender, and was overcome by the might of the blessed gospel; and whereas he had formerly been a zealot for the mistaken service of God, now he became one of the strongest friends of the pure Lutheran doctrine in all the community. Out of gratitude the parish gave to its beloved watcher for souls this Tiefenthal with the wooded hill here, to be for all time the property of the parsonage, which it still is to the presentday. My beloved, we have come here to-day for pleasure; are we to come here again perhaps some day in distress? You answer possibly, "No, that is not to be apprehended; our times are too humane." Yes! they are humane towards all that ishuman;i.e., towards banqueting and drinking, dissolute living and deceit. But that our times are not too humane towards what isgodly, is testified by the persecutions directed against the Lutherans in Baden and Nassau, where various Lutheran preachers have had to pay fine after fine, and lie in the common prison, because they preach and baptize and observe the communion in the Lutheran manner, and whereto the preaching must often be held in mountains and clefts of the rocks to be had in peace. And besides, the kingdom of Antichrist is advancing with constantly quicker and more decided steps. Even now it everywhere rains words of abuse upon the saints, the praying people, the hypocrites, the enthusiasts, the mad folk, and by whatever other names beside they may call them. And who knows how soon the time may come when the word will again be true,—"They will put you out of their synagogues," and "whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth God service." I could if I would read you letters that have come from many cities and villages, filled with such threatenings and cursings and coarse words against me that they would fill you with astonishment. Therefore ask yourselves again seriously the question, would you also be ready to give money and blood, body and life, for the Lord Jesus and for your faith? would you also be ready to suffer bonds and imprisonment for the Lord's sake? If it be so that you could not or would not do that, then you are not worthy to bear the name of Jesus Christ; for whoever hateth not father and mother, wife and child, farm and farm stock, and his own life also, for Jesus's sake, he is not worthy of me, the Lord says. To confess Christ in peace and in pleasant times, that is easy enough; but to do it through distress and death, to stand fast in the baptism of fire, that is another thing. Christians of nowadays are accustomed to easy living; how would the cup of suffering taste to them?They are drowned in delicate and luxurious habits; how would they bear privation? They have corrupted themselves in cowardice and indolence; how should they be strong and brave under persecution? And listen to me now, you who are gathered here together in such numbers; what do you think? If the soldiers all of a sudden came upon you, to run you through, or to carry you off somewhere where there are no feather beds, would you stand it? would you cheerfully give yourselves up to be dragged off? Or would you make long legs, keep a whole skin, and deny your Saviour? O God! grant that all of us may be able to cry with the Apostle Paul, "I count all things but loss that I may win Christ." "I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, shall be able to separate me from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord!" Let us now sing with the sound of the trumpets our Luther's hero song—
"Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott."'"
"What does that mean?" said Maggie.
"It means, 'The Lord is my strength and my fortress;' or, more literally, Maggie, 'Our God is a sure stronghold.'"
"'When this hymn had been sung, it was time for our noonday meal. So after we had prayed the prayer before eating, the people arranged themselves everywhere, in larger and smaller groups, on the green grass or the brown heather, and with giving of thanks enjoyed the food they had brought along with them. Those who had nothing took gladly the spare bits of those who had too much. And all were filled; and beer, and water, and even sugar-water, were on hand too to quench the burning thirst. I had myself a further particular pleasure. A few of our festival companions had brought with them some mighty pieces of honeycake as a gift for me. That suited me exactly, and I had it packed in with other things in my basket of provisions. Now you should have seen the glee when I called the children to me and snapped off the sweet bits for them. Therecame even a pretty good number of larger people, who wanted to be children too, and have their bite after the children had had enough. When we had eaten we had the prayer of thanks, and then the beautiful song,
"Now let us thank God and praise Him," &c.
"'A blast of the trumpets proclaimed the renewal of divine service; and again the people arranged themselves in their former places and order for a new and last refreshing of their spirits.'"
"Is that all?" said Maggie.
"All of that story," Meredith answered.
There was a long silence. On hill and rock and river there was a stillness and peace as if nowhere in the world could blood ever have flowed, or wrangling been heard, or men been cruel one to another. So soft and warm the sunlight brooded, and the dry leaves hung still on the trees and not a breath moved them, and the liquid lap of the water against the rocks far down below just came to the ear with a murmur of content. There was nothing else to hear; and the silence was so exquisite that it laid a sort of spell on everybody's tongue, while the mild sunlight on the warm, hazy hills seemed to find out everybody's very heart and spread itself there. A spell of stillness and a spell of peace. All the party were hushed for a good while; and what broke the charm at last was a long-drawn breath of little Maggie, which came from somewhere much deeper then she knew. Mr. Murray looked up at her and smiled.
"What is it, Maggie?"
"I don't know, Uncle Eden. I think something makes me feel bad."
"Feel bad!" echoed Esther.
"I don't mean feelbadexactly—I can't explain it."
"I suppose she has been thinking, as I have been," said Meredith, "that it does not seem as if this day and my story could both belong to the same world."
"Ah!" said Mr. Murray, "this is a little bit of God's part, and the other is a little bit of man's part in the world; that is all."
"But, Uncle Eden, in those dreadful times it don't seem as if there could ever have been pleasant days."
"I fancy there were. Don't you think the people of Hermannsburg must have enjoyed Tiefenthal, sometimes in the early starlight dawn and sometimes in the fresh sunrise?"
"Uncle Eden, I should always have been afraid the soldiers were coming."
"On the other hand, those people always knew that God was there. And there is a wonderful sweetness in living in His hands."
"But yet, Uncle Eden, He did let the soldiers come."
"Hedid not go away, Maggie."
"No; but those must have been dreadful times."
"Well, yes. They were no doubt hard times. And yet, Maggie, it remains true—'WhenHegiveth quietness, then who can make trouble?' Think of Paul and Silas, beaten and bleeding, stiff and sore, stretched uncomfortably in the wooden framework which left them no power to rest themselves or change their position; in the noisome inner dungeon of a Roman prison, and yet singing for gladness. People cannot sing when they are faint-hearted, Maggie. The Lord keeps His promises."
"I wonder how many people would stand Pastor Harms's test?" Meredith remarked.
"They are not obliged to stand it," Flora rejoined. "There are no persecutions now; not here, at any rate. People are not called upon to be martyrs."
"Do you think the terms of service have changed?" said Mr. Murray looking at her.
"Why, sir, we arenotcalled upon to be martyrs."
"No, but are you not called to have the same spirit the martyrs had?"
"How can we?"
"What is the martyr spirit?"
"I don't know," said Flora. "I suppose it is a wonderful power of bearing pain, which is given people at such times."
"Given to everybody?" said Meredith.
"Of course, not given to everybody."
"To whom, then?"
"Why, to Christians."
"And what is a Christian?" said Mr. Murray. "Are there two kinds, one for peace and the other for war?"
"No, I suppose not," said Flora, somewhat mystified.
"'Whosoever shall confess me before men, him will I also confess before my Father which is in heaven.' So the Lord said. Now in times of persecution, you know what confessing Christ meant. What does it mean in these days?"
"I do not think I understand the question, Mr. Murray."
"In the Roman days, for instance, how did people confess Christ?"
"I don't know. They owned that they were Christians."
"How did they own that? They refused to do anything that could be constructed into paying honour to the gods of the people. They might have said in word that they were Christians—but nobody would have meddled with them if they would have hung garlands of flowers upon Jupiter's altar."
"No," said Flora.
"How is it in these days?"
"What do you mean, sir?"
"I mean, how is Christ to be confessed in these days?"
"I don't know," said Flora; "except by making what is called a profession of religion,—joining some church, I suppose."
"Does that do it?"
"I do not know how else."
"Why, Uncle Eden," said Maggie, "how can one do it any other way?"
"One cannot do it in that way, my pet."
"Not?" said Flora. "How then, Mr. Murray?"
"What do people join the church for, then, Uncle Eden?" Esther inquired.
"Those who enlist in Christ's army must certainly puton His uniform. But who shall say that the uniform does not cover a traitor?"
"A traitor, Mr. Murray?" Flora looked puzzled.
"Yes. There are many traitors. There were even in Paul's time."
"Traitors among the Christians?"
"So he wrote. 'Many walk, of whom I have told you often, and tell you now again even weeping, that they areenemies of the cross of Christ.' They were professors of His name, nevertheless, Miss Flora; but confess Him before men, except in word, they did not. So my question stands, you perceive."
"How to confess Christ nowadays so that there shall be no mistake about it?" Meredith added. Flora and Esther and Maggie sat looking at Mr. Murray, as at the propounder of a riddle. Fenton pricked up his ears and stared at the whole group.
"What did those people do, Mr. Murray?" Flora asked.
"Paul tells. He says of them that their 'glory is in their shame;' they 'mind earthly things.'"
"How can one help minding earthly things, as long as one lives in this world?"
"One cannot, Miss Flora. But the characteristic of a Christian is, that he seeksfirstthe kingdom of God."
"How?"
"First, to have the Lord's will done in his own heart; next, to have it done in other people's hearts."
"But you were talking of doing something to show to the world that you are certainly a Christian, Mr. Murray?"
"Yes, Miss Flora. Shall I tell you some of the ways in which this may be accomplished?"
"Yes, if you please. I am completely in a fog."
"I never like to leave anybody in a fog. Now listen, and I will give you some of the Bible marks of a real Christian.
"'Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple.'"
"But, Mr. Murray!"——
"Yes, that is just it exactly!" said Meredith, delighted.
"How can one forsake all he has? Be a beggar?"
"Not at all. Give it all to Christ, and be His steward."
"Not to please yourself in anything!" cried Flora.
"I did not say so. And the Bible does not mean so. For another Bible mark of a Christian is, in the Lord's words—
"'My meat is to do the will of Him that sent me.'"
"But can't one do anything that one wants to do?" cried Flora in dismay.
"Many things. But a Christian has no pleasure in what does not please God."
"How is one always to know?"
"I am going on to tell you in part. 'Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.'"
"That don't tellme," said Flora. "How can I tell what will do that? And how can one doeverythingso? Little things—and life is very much made up of little things. Dressing, and studying, and reading, and playing, and amusing one's self."
"O Flora?" Maggie cried; and "Why, Flora!" Meredith said, looking at her; but neither added anything more.
"The Bible says, 'Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do,'" Mr. Murray answered. "In another place, 'Whatsoever ye do, in word or deed.'"
"Well, Mr. Murray, I don't understand it; take eating and drinking—how can that be done to the glory of God?"
"You can easily see how it can be donenotto His glory. Any way that is not becoming His servant is not to His glory. Therefore, in excess—of things that do not agree with you and therefore unfit you for duty—of costly dishes, which take the money that might feed starving people."
"But I can't feed all the starving people!" said Flora.
"It is something to feed one. But I will give you another Bible mark, Miss Flora, 'He that saith he abideth in Him,' that is, in Christ, 'ought himself also to walk even asHe walked.'Now remember how Christ walked. He was here, 'as one that serveth.' He 'went about doing good.' He 'pleased not Himself.' He 'did always those things that please' God."
"But one can't be likeHim," said Esther.
"That depends entirely upon whether you choose to be like Him."
"O Uncle Eden! He was"——
"Yes, I know, and I know what you are, and I, and all of us. It remains true,—'God is faithful, by whom ye were called unto the fellowship of His Son Jesus Christ our Lord;'—'chosen, that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love.'"
There was a pause of some length. Flora was silenced, but her eyes had filled, and her face wore a pained and bitter expression. Meredith had glanced at her and thought it better not to speak. Maggie was in a depth of meditation. Fenton had gone scrambling down the rocks. Esther looked somewhat bored.
"Have you got your book there, Meredith?" Mr. Murray asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Read us something more. And after that you may all bring your questions. We came here on purpose to talk, as I understood."
"There are different sort of things here, sir. Shall I give you a change?"
"What you will—
"'O day most calm, most bright,The fruit of this, the next world's bud—Th' indorsement of supreme delight,Writ by a friend, and with his blood;The couch of time; cares balm and bay;The week were dark but for thy light;Thy torch doth show the way.'"
"That's better than anything I have got, sir," said Meredith.
"No. But it is good. And just here and to-day the Sabbath seems dressed in royal robes. I could not but think of those lines."
"I confess, Mr. Murray, Sunday is nothing like that to me," said Flora.
"You are honest, Miss Flora. That gives me some hope of you. No, naturally the Sabbath does not seem like that to you yet.—Well, Meredith?"
"Is there more of it, sir?" Meredith's sister asked.
"More than you would care for, Miss Flora.—
"'Sundays the pillars areOn which heav'n's palace archéd lies;The other days fill up the spareAnd hollow room with vanities.—'"
"And yet that need not be true, either. Go on, Meredith. What will you give us?"
"Two stories, sir, on the words, 'Hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown.'"
"'On the twenty-fifth of June 1530, therefore three hundred and forty years ago, as is well known, our Lutheran Confession of Faith was delivered before the diet at Augsburg. There was the powerful emperor Charles V., and his brother, King Ferdinand, besides a number of electoral princes, dukes and bishops. Before this crowd of some three or four hundred nobles, stood a little company of seven princes and two represented cities; that is, the Elector John the Constant and his son John Frederick of Saxony, Margrave George of Brandenburg, Duke Ernst the Confessor and his brother Francis of Lüneburg, Landgrave Philip of Hesse, Prince Wolfgang of Anhalt, and the two burgermasters of Nürnberg and Reutlingen. These nine stood forth with the spirit of heroes, and confessed, under signature of their names, that in this faith they would live and die, and that no power of earth or hell should make them turn from it. For the Lutherans were wickedly slandered, as men who no longer believed in anything, and who therefore deserved no other than to be rooted out fromthe earth. That was why the Lutheran princes had requested that it might be granted them to declare their faith publicly before the Diet; to the end that everybody might know how their belief rested upon the Scriptures and stood in harmony with the universal ancient Christian Church; and indeed had flung away only the false human teachings which had found their way into the Church. For this purpose the twenty-fifth of June was fixed. The electoral chancellor Beyer stepped into the middle of the hall with the written Confession of Faith in his hand. The evangelical princes rose and stood listening while it was read, and testified that this was the faith they held, to which by God's help they would stand unmoved. Then did all that were present hear what the faith of the Lutherans was; there stood the doctrine of the triune God, of original sin, of the eternal Godhead of Jesus Christ; of justification before God through grace alone by faith in Jesus Christ, &c., though I hope I do not need to tell you any more about it; I think you all know the Augsburg Confession and have read it, for surely you are all of you Lutheran Christians, and all Lutheran Christians know the Augsburg Confession. But if there be one among you who does not yet know this act of confession, let him be ashamed of himself, and get a copy with all speed, and read it, and read it again. When it was read aloud at Augsburg, the impression it made was very great; people saw that the Lutherans had been shamefully slandered. Duke William of Bavaria reproached De Eck with having represented the Lutheran doctrine to him in entirely false colours. The doctor answered, he would undertake to refute this writing from the Christian fathers, but not from the Scripture. Then the duke returned, "So, if I hear aright, the Lutherans areinthe Scriptures, and we near by!"
"'There did the steadfast Lutherans keep that saying in their hearts—"Hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown." Ay, when before the beginning of the Diet the Lutheran ministers earnestly besought the Elector of Saxony that he would not for their sakes run intodanger, but graciously permit them to appear alone and give in their declaration before the emperor, the undaunted prince made them answer—"God forbid that I should be shut out from your company; I will confess my Lord Jesus Christ with you."
"'This is one story about those words; now I will give you another—'"
"Stop one minute, Ditto. Uncle Eden, I do not exactly understand all that?"
"What do you not understand?"
"Who were all those people?"
"The Catholic nobles of the German empire, with Charles the Fifth, a very powerful emperor, at their head, and the chief Catholic church doctors and dignitaries,—all that on one side; representing the powers of this world. On the other side, a little handful of men whom Luther's teaching had awakened out of the darkness of the Middle Ages, confessing Christ before men; representing the feeble flock of His followers."
"Yes," said Maggie thoughtfully. "Was there danger?"
"There was great danger to whoever got into the power of the Catholic lords."
"Do you think the world is always against the truth, Mr. Murray?" Flora asked.
Mr. Murray answered in the words of the psalm—"'Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing? The kings of the earth set themselves, and their rulers take counsel together, against the Lord and against His Anointed, saying, Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us.'"
"But all times are not like those times of the Reformation?"
"Not just. The world power strives against the Church in a variety of ways, sometimes with force and sometimes with guile. The beast in the vision, who has his power from the devil, sometimes makes war with the saints; and sometimes 'he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right handor in their foreheads; and that no man might buy or sell save he that has the mark.'—Miss Flora, I believe the war times are the less evil and dangerous. Well, Meredith, you bear interruptions philosophically. Go on with your new story."
"This new story 'happened more than two hundred years ago, at a place called Galgenberg' (that is Gallowshill, Maggie), 'in the neighbourhood of Hermannsburg. In old times a gallows used to stand there, on which thieves and oath-breakers were hung.'"
"Oath-breakers!" said Mr. Murray. "It seems the Saxons kept their hatred of untruth. But I beg your pardon, Meredith."
"It's half the fun, to stop and talk, sir. 'At that time the criminal jurisdiction was located in Hermannsburg; and four times in the year, at quarter-day, court was held here and the judgment carried into effect as soon as delivered. To this end the justiciaries of Hermannsburg, Bergen, and Fallingbostel came together here and held the court, after they had first attended the weekly service in the church at Hermannsburg to prepare them for their vocation; for quarter-day always fell upon a Wednesday. However in those days perjury and theft were so rare, that once it happened that twenty years passed away, with court held every quarter-day, and nobody was sentenced. The justice of Hermannsburg had two staves, one all white, and one parti-coloured. If he found no one guilty, he broke the coloured staff; if, however, anybody was convicted, then he broke the white staff, with the words,
"The staff is broken,The judgment is spoken,Man, thou must hang."
"'And then, after the pastor had prayed with the criminal, the sentence was executed.'"
"Fearful times, sir," said Meredith pausing.
"Horrible!" echoed Flora.
"Two sides to the question," said Mr. Murray. "I ammusing over the novelty of the combination. Twenty years without one man convicted of theft or a false oath! Think of that, and you will comprehend the horror of the crime which made such sudden work with the criminal."
"I will go on," said Meredith.—"'Some old people are yet living who have seen the gallows which stood on the Galgenberg. Now I will tell you my story about the words, "Hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown." It was in the Thirty Years' War, which from 1618 to 1648 raged between the Catholics and the Protestants. Through all this miserable time the parish of Hermannsburg enjoyed the rare good fortune of having a faithful shepherd over it; his name was Andreas Kruse; he became pastor in 1617, and died in 1652. His successor, Paulus Boccatius, gives him this testimony in the church register—"True as gold, pure as silver. Ah, thou faithful and good servant, thou hast been faithful over a few things; I will make thee ruler over many things." For years at a time the church at Hermannsburg was closed to him. At those times he went with his people into the wilds and held divine service there. Furthermore, the whole of the neighbouring pastors were either dead of the plague, or killed, or driven away; so that he took care of all their parishes beside his own; and this he did for twenty-five years. One good supporter he had in a bailiff called Andreas Schlüter, who died in the year 1643, and lies buried in the churchyard at Hermannsburg; a man after God's heart, who faithfully stood by his pastor and often hid him away in his house for weeks at a time. The pastor did not merely celebrate divine service; he had also preserved the silver church vessels from the plundering hands of the enemy. These silver vessels were used in the service of the Lord's supper; and after it was over, the sacristan or clerk set tin ones in their place upon the altar. They did not mean to act any lie by this means, however, for the tin vessels were not made for the purposes of deception, but had been there beforetime. Things went on in this way until the year 1633. At that time Duke George assembled an army and marched against the imperial forcesHis men were burning with an eagerness for the fight, which delighted the duke. The enemy were stationed at Nienburg and Hameln. Seeing that the duke was approaching them they drew back to Oldendorf in the Hesse country, and there the duke got hold of them in the month of June 1633. When his faithful followers asked him, "What shall the battle cry be?"—"God with us!" answered the duke; and therewith they went at the enemy bravely. And soon the foe were so fearfully beaten that they scattered and fled in every direction—fifty imperial standards and twenty cannon remaining in the duke's hands.
"'Among the fugitives were the two imperial generals Merode and Gronsfeld. The former was wounded to death and died at Nienburg. Gronsfeld fled in such haste, that he lost his sword and plumed hat. The duke kept these for himself, to be his share of the spoils. In their flight the imperialists came through the Lüneburg country, with the most frightful outrages which they committed by the way. Among these, the record tells of a lieutenant captain, named Altringer, who came to the village of Hermannsburg and plundered the inhabitants; he pushed his way even into the parsonage, and asked the pastor "what he had to give him?" "I am a poor man," the latter replied; "you may open all my boxes." They did so, and—ten shillings was all they found. In a rage at this, they beat the doors and windows to pieces, and summoned him—"You must have some church furniture too—here, out with it!" The pastor answered, "Have you been in the church yet?" "Those are tin vessels," said the enemy; "you are bound to have silver ones as well. Where are they? give them up." "No," said the faithful pastor, "that is what I will not do." "Where have you hidden them?" "You are not going to find out."
"'Upon this they condemned the brave man to the "Swedish drink." This frightful punishment consisted in the following: The victim was brought to the dung-pit, his mouth was forced open, a gag put between his teeth, and then dung water poured down his throat; after which menstamped with, their feet upon his bloated body, until either he confessed or gave up the ghost. Now they had already brought Pastor Kruse to the dung-pit. There, before they began, he prayed with a loud voice, "Lord Jesus, have mercy on me." The lieutenant captain was moved with pity. "No," he said, "this man shall not die by the 'Swedish drink.' To the gallows with him! he shall hang." Arrived at the gallows he was there asked again, "Where is the church service?" He answered, "I shall not tell you where." Thereupon order was given to execute the sentence. But in the first place he kneeled down and prayed for his enemies also, that God would not lay this sin to their charge, but give them grace to repent. Then he mounted the ladder, and the noose was already round his neck; meanwhile a tall man coming from Celle stepped up behind a tree, where, himself unseen, he could observe everything. At the same instant people were seen on the other side coming from Hermannsburg, and making signals with a white cloth to signify that they had got the church vessels. Where had they found them? They considered that surely the pastor would have buried them in the deepest part of his house, that is in the cellar. But in what spot? This they discovered in the following manner. They poured five or six pailfuls of water on the cellar floor. At first for a while, it stood there; then all of a sudden it began to run together towards one place and there sink in. "Ha, ha," said they; "here is a hole in the ground; the things must be buried there." So they dug it up and found the church vessels. When the pastor saw the communion service in the hands of the enemy, then the tears rose to his eyes. But as for the effect those people had hoped for, that is, that his life might be saved, they found it would not do; the hard lieutenant captain would not change his order; the man must hang.
"'Then stepped out yonder tall man from behind the tree—it was General Gronsfeld; and he spoke. "Will you put to death this man who in dying prays for his enemies, and who weeps for his church service and not for his own life? Set him at liberty!" The pastor stretched out hishands to the general and implored, "Ah, my lord general, the church vessels!" But he answered, "I cannot give you those back—they are the booty of my soldiers; but your life is granted you."
"'The parish people of Hermannsburg used the tin service for a long while after that, till towards the end of the war silver vessels were again provided. Kruse remained pastor here until 1652. He too kept that saying in his heart—"Hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown."'"
"What awful times!" was Flora's comment when Meredith stopped reading.
"The world has moved a little since then," Mr. Murray observed. "Let us be thankful such barbarous cruelties are no longer practised by the civilised part of the world; and civilisation is spreading."
"But I don't think much of that story," Esther went on. "The man made a great deal more fuss about the soldiers having his church service than was at all necessary. That wasn't a thing to die for."
"By his lights, and his love for the sacred vessels, it was. You must take his point of view; and then you will find him, as I do, very noble."
"But it is very difficult to take other people's point of view, Mr. Murray, especially when it is unreasonable."
"Who shall judge?" said Mr. Murray smiling.
"You mean,Imight be the one who was unreasonable."
"Anybody might, occasionally. And it is of the very essence of charity, Miss Flora, to take other people's point of view. Only so can you possibly come to a right estimate of their action."
"I don't like that story much, Ditto! I mean, not so much. I wish you would read another," said Maggie.
"I will read you another," said Meredith; "and it shall be very different.
"'The story that I am now about to tell you is such a one as certainly nobody expects to hear from me; it is namely, the story of a night-watchman. But there is no sort of reason why you should laugh at this word, for indeed thestory is a pretty one; and I wish all the night-watchmen in city and country would take after this man and do as he did; that is, provided they could do it from the bottom of their hearts. A poor cottager in one of our country villages, some years ago, out of curiosity, came to one of our mission festivals. There to his astonishment he heard that the Lord Jesus will have all men to be saved, that are in the whole earth, even the poor heathen; and that accordingly He has commanded His servants, the Christians, to cast the net of the gospel into the sea of the heathen world. He heard how the heathen are to be saved, because Jesus died for all men; how they can nevertheless no otherwise be saved than through faith in Him; because there is salvation for sinners in no other but only in the name of Him who was crucified for sinners and is risen again. Meanwhile however, by means of this mission festival the dear man himself is taken in the net of the gospel; for he sees that he also is a sinner, and therefore for him also there is no salvation except in Him who forgives sins, because He has made reconciliation for sinners with God. And now, finding himself salvation in Christ, this experience of his convinces him that nobody but Jesus can really help the poor heathen. But then since Jesus can come to the poor heathen in no way but by his Word and sacrament, and his Word and sacrament the heathen have not, it becomes very clear to his mind that the Word and sacrament must be carried to them. This, moreover, can be done only by messengers to the heathen, who must be sent to them, because they have not got wings to fly thither. Then he begins to ponder the question, how he can do something to help. So he buys himself a mission-box, that he may always be putting something in there when he has anything to spare. As nevertheless what goes in is only the mites of poverty, it looks to him a great deal too little. He makes the resolve now that every quarter of a year he will go round the village with his box to collect for the mission. But this is a resolve he cannot perform; for inasmuch as the mission is not known to the people of his village, he reflects that where there isno heart for the mission, naturally there are no gifts for it. And there he was quite right, and did a wise thing to let his collecting project alone. So about that he gives in, and quietly hangs up his mission box in his room, on a nail opposite the door, so that every one who comes into the room can see it. And people do observe it, and many a one asks what sort of a thing that can be? He makes answer, it is for this purpose: that whatever goes into it will be applied to the converting of the heathen. And so in this way some few mites do actually get in; which, however, at the end of each year bring but a small sum. Now as this sum is still far too small to content him, he turns simply to the dear Lord Jesus, and says to Him—"Dear Lord, as for going to the heathen myself, that I cannot do: I am too old, and I have not learned enough. But because Thou hast done so much for me and in me, I would like greatly to do something for Thee, and truly a little more than I have done hitherto. So give me Thy Holy Spirit, that I may know how to manage it; for without Him man's knowledge is nought." Following upon such a prayer then, the Lord appointed him to be nightwatcher. For without his having in the least anticipated such a thing, the village community invited him to undertake the service of the night-watch in the village. He made answer, he must take the matter into consideration before God and with his wife. The latter was not at first disposed to be pleased that he should wake while others slept; and his own flesh also takes to it not kindly, to have to wander about in the village in snow and rain, when it is cold and when it is stormy, while everybody else is lying upon his ear. But his former prayer recurs to him, the Lord is certainly now giving him something to do; and so he says to the Lord Jesus—"My dear Saviour, if Thou canst use me in this way, keeping watch in the village with Thy holy angels, who are about us at all times, then give me strength and joy to do it!" And as the Lord grants him both, the thing is settled, and in the name of Jesus he accepts the office of night-watch. The custom in that place makes it a rule, that on New Year's night the night-watchshould sing under people's windows a couple of pretty Christian verses, as it were a New Year's greeting; to one this verse, to the next the other verse, and so round at all the houses. New Year's day then, or the day after, he may go round again visiting house by house, and wish happy New Year; and the people give him according to their means and according to their inclination a gift, smaller or larger, and these gifts belong to his service earnings; it is no begging either, for the stipulation is made at the time he is put in office. With true gladness of heart now in the New Year's night he sings under all the windows in the village; and as he does this, he seems to himself just the same as a priest of God; his office seems to him a right holy one. And particularly where he knows that a sick person is lying in a house he sings the loveliest verses of faith and comfort, so that tears run down over his own cheeks in the doing of it. That night is verily a night of triumph in his work; and he begins to bear a cordial love to his calling, as one the Lord has given him and has sanctified. To go round on New Year's day, however, and wish the people joy, that is what he cannot make up his mind to; it is a festival and a holiday; it belongs to the Lord; and it must be spent in the church and with the Bible. But the next day he has time, and then he will go; and then his mission-box occurs to him, which is still hanging there on its nail. Now he knows what he is to do. He takes the box in his hand and goes the rounds, house after house, and gives his good wishes. Everywhere the people receive his hearty congratulations kindly, and every one puts his hand in his pocket with alacrity to fetch out a little present for him; the faithful man has indeed done his work so honestly, and but just now has sung for them so heartily and such beautiful verses! But he holds forth his box to his benefactors, and begs them to put whatever they design for him in there, for what they give is to go to the conversion of the heathen. So upon that one asks him a question, and another asks him a question, and he has opportunity to open his mouth with gladness and testify of the misery of the poor heathen, and of the sacred duty ofhelping them, that so they may be converted. And God gives His blessing both to deeds and word; and now the man finds himself able to send in not a little, but a good deal, for the conversion of the heathen, who lie so heavily on his heart.
"'Do you ask where this happened and who did it? It happened in our country, and six nightwatchers have done it. Who are they? Go along and ask the Lord in the last day; He has got all their names written down. I shall not tell them to you, for I will not rob them of their blessing. It might happen, however, that one or the other of them may read these lines. If that be the case, then I say to him, "Keep still and do not betray thyself, that thou lose not thy humility."'"
"I must say, Ditto, you read us the most extraordinary variety of stories."
That was Flora's utterance. Meredith, however, sat looking very gravely into the water, which was rolling its little waves along at his feet far below. The sun had got lower while he had been reading; the lights and colours were changing; shadows fell from the hill-tops and began to lie broad on the river, cast from the western shore; but all softened in the haze, which now was getting in a strange way transfused with light; and a few little flecks of cloud were taking on the most delicate hues.
"Mr. Murray," Meredith broke out, "that story is not exaggerated? I mean, the doing of the people in the story is not, is it?"
"Miss Flora thinks so."
"Don't you, Mr. Murray?" said the young lady.
"Let us hear your reasons, please."
"Well, Mr. Murray, surely life is given to us for something besides bare work. We are meant to be happy and enjoy ourselves a little, aren't we?"
"Most certainly."
"Those good men,—I dare say they were good men,—seem to me to have been mistaken."
"You think, for instance, they might have kept some of their New Year's money to buy their wives new dresses?"
"Yes; or to get a good dinner, which I suppose they never had; or a carpet, suppose, for the bit of a room they lived in."
"What do you say, Esther?"
"Oh, I think just as Flora does, Uncle Eden. I think those people were very extravagant."
"Maggie?"
"Uncle Eden, I do not know if they were extravagant; but it seems to me they might have kept alittlefor their own New Year."
"You all overlook one thing."
"What is that, sir?" several voices asked eagerly.
"Those good men were not acting so very contrary to your principle. They were doing, every one of them, what gave him the most pleasure with his money. That is what I understand you to advocate. The only difference is, that they found their pleasure in one thing, and you would find yours in another."
"But, Mr. Murray," Meredith began.
"Yes, Mr. Murray," said Flora eagerly taking the words out of her brother's mouth, "you have really not said anything. The question comes round,—oughtwe to find our pleasure in what they did, and in nothing else?"
"That is not the right way of putting it. The Lord does not demand that, nor desire it; but that we should seekfirstthe kingdom of God. You may remember too that the spirit of our life, if we are Christians, must be the same as Christ's; for 'if any man have not the spirit of Christ, he is none of His.' Now the motto of His life was, 'My meat is to do the will of Him that sent me.' And that, Miss Flora, must make pleasing God the great pleasure of a child of God."
"That is what I think," said Meredith.
"Then are we to have no pleasure?" Flora repeated. "I mean, no pleasure of our own?"
"I have been trying to explain that. I do not know any pleasure much sweeter than pleasing some one that we dearly love; do you?"
Flora looked very gloomy.
"Put out of your head any notion of bondage or hard lines of action. 'Idelightto do Thy will, O God!'—is the true way of stating it. And that is the only sort of service, I think, that the Lord really is pleased with."
"Well, does He want us to do like those people, and give literally all we have got, for the heathen, or the poor?"
"The Bible rule is, 'Every manaccording as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give.' If His heart will be satisfied with nothing less than all, you would not forbid Him?"
Meredith's eyes sparkled, and he looked at Flora, but she would not meet him.
"It may be and often is the case, that the Lord's best service requires some of a man's money to be spent on things that seem personal; still, if he loves God best, all will be really for God. Education, accomplishments, knowledge, arts, sciences, recreation, travel, books—provided only that in everything and everywhere the man is doing the very best he can for the service of his Master and the stewardship of his goods. That does not shut out but increases his delight in these things."
"That is enough!" exclaimed Meredith. "You have answered all my questions, sir. I see my way now."
"It will be a way apart from mamma and me, then, I suppose," said Flora, her eyes filling and her cheeks reddening.
"No," said Mr. Murray gently, "perhaps not. Meredith, we have had a sufficient interval of talk; suppose you read again. I am selfish in saying so; for while my ears listen, my eyes can revel in this wealth of colour. What will you give us next?"
"May I choose, sir? It touches what we have been talking about, another little story. It is a story by the bedside of a sick day-labourer."
"I don't believe we shall like it, Ditto," said his sister.
"It will not hold us long. Let me try.—
"'It is a long while ago, that I was once standing by the bedside of a sick day-labourer, who had a wife and four children. The man had been ill for weeks, and the sickness had swallowed up all his money. Death was near, and he was glad of it; he had only one remaining wish, that he might receive the symbols of the body and blood of the Lord Jesus in the Holy Communion. I administered them to him.
"'We sang with a number of friends and neighbours who were gathered together, the song,
"Who knows how near my end may be!"
"'He sang the words correctly along with us, for he knew the hymn by heart. His wife and children sang too. As we stopped at the fifth verse, I saw great tears in his eyes; but I said nothing at the time. The sick man spoke his confession devoutly, and afterwards received the bread and the wine which are in figure the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. His eye beamed with joy. Then after the blessing was said we sang the most glorious verse of the same hymn,—"I have fed on Jesus' blood," &c. The neighbours and friends went away, after they had cordially pressed his hand and said to him, "In the Lord's presence we'll be together again." I remained alone with the sick man and his family. Then I asked, why he had wept when we were singing, whether perhaps it was a trouble to him that he must go away from his wife and children? He looked at me with open eyes, almost reproachfully, when I said that, and answered, "Does not Jesus stay with them then? Has not the Lord said He would be 'the father of the fatherless and a judge of the widow'? No; they will be well looked after; I have prayed the Lord that He would be a guardian to them. Isn't it so, mother, that thou art not worried either, and thy heart is not anxious? Thou, too, hast faith in Jesus!" "Surely," said the woman, "I believe in Jesus; and I am glad thou art going to Jesus. In good time I will come after thee with the children. Jesus will help me by His Holy Spirit to bring them up." "Well—why did you shed tears then?" "For joy. I was thinking, if the singing goes so lovely even down here, how beautiful it will be when the angels sing with us. That was what made me weep, for joy, because such blessedness is so near before me." And now he made a sign to his wife. She understood the sign, went to the cupboard, and fetched out a little sort of a cup dish, which was her husband's money-box. Six groschen were in it, all that was left over of his possessions. He tookthem out with trembling fingers, laid them in my hand, and said, "The heathen are to have those, that they too may learn how to die happy." I looked at the wife; she nodded her head pleasantly and said, "We have agreed upon that. When all is paid that will be needed for the funeral, it will leave just these six groschen over." "And what will you keep?" "The Lord Jesus," said she. "And what are you going to leave to your wife and children?" I asked the man again. "The Lord Jesus," said he; and with that whispered me in the ear, "He is very good and very rich." So I took the six groschen for the heathen, and put them, as a great treasure, in the mission money-box; and it was hard for me to give them out again; only if I had not paid them out, I should not have fulfilled the dying man's wish. In the following night he fell asleep. We buried him as a Christian should be buried, that is, publicly, with the ringing of the bell, with preaching, singing and prayer; and there was no weeping done, neither by his wife nor by his three oldest children, neither in the church nor by the grave. But the youngest child, a boy of five years old, who followed the bier along with the rest, wept bitterly. I asked him afterwards, why he had wept so bitterly at his father's grave? The child answered me, "I was so troubled because father didn't take me with him to the Lord Jesus; I had begged him so hard to take me." "My child," said I, "your father could not take you along with him; only the Saviour could do that; you ought to have askedHim." "Shall I ask Him now then?" he questioned. "No, my child. See—when the Saviour wants you, He will call you Himself. But if He chooses that you shall grow to be a man first, then you must help your mother and let her live with you. Will you?" He said, "I would like to go to Jesus; and I would like to be big too, so that mother can live with me." "Well, then, say to the Lord Jesus that He shall choose." "That is what I will do," said the boy; and was quite contented and pleased.