"I will sing you a song of that beautiful land,The far away home of the soul,Where no storms ever beat on that glittering strand,While the years of eternity roll.Oh, that home of the soul in my visions and dreams,Its bright, jasper walls I can see,Till I fancy but thinly the vail intervenesBetween that fair city and me!That unchangeable home is for you and for me,Where Jesus of Nazareth stands;The King of all kingdoms forever is He,And He holdeth our crowns in His hands.Oh, how sweet it will be in that beautiful land,So free from all sorrow and pain,With songs on our lips and with harps in our hands,To meet one another again!"
"I will sing you a song of that beautiful land,The far away home of the soul,Where no storms ever beat on that glittering strand,While the years of eternity roll.
Oh, that home of the soul in my visions and dreams,Its bright, jasper walls I can see,Till I fancy but thinly the vail intervenesBetween that fair city and me!
That unchangeable home is for you and for me,Where Jesus of Nazareth stands;The King of all kingdoms forever is He,And He holdeth our crowns in His hands.
Oh, how sweet it will be in that beautiful land,So free from all sorrow and pain,With songs on our lips and with harps in our hands,To meet one another again!"
"That must be the place, grandpa, for it says Jesus is there, and that we'll meet one another again."
"Yes, yes, child, it's the place, I'm mighty sure of that, and I'm so glad we're a-goin' to find it. I'll like it so much better than the city. I wonder I ain't gone before."
The two sang and talked till the twilight began to fall, then they heard Mrs. Gray shuffling up the stairs.
"Now don't fergit and tell, Rosa," hurriedly whispered grandpa.
"Oh, no indeed, and we'll go the very first chance we have. Won't mother be glad to see us?"
"Land sakes, Rosa, you look and act a heap like you'd jest lost your ma. I heard that fiddle and you a-singin' with grandpa long before I got up the steps. But it is real lucky fer you, though, that I'll have you to manage till spring. You'll learn how to do somethin' a-stayin' here with me, or I'll miss my guess.
"Why ain't you got a brisker fire started up fer supper? Do it right this minute. It'll be somethin' new fer you to have a cooked meal every day, and sometimes two or three of them. But you'll have to earn them first, or eat by yourself, and jest what you can git.
"I ain't a-goin' to keep you fer nothin'. Hurry up now, fer I'm cold, and my ankle's 'most a-killin' me. Father'd ought to be shook yet, fer causin' me so much trouble. No tellin' how much longer it'll pain me, and I shouldn't wonder if it'd lay me up."
Thus rudely was Rosa's reverie broken in upon, bringing her face to face with her present dingy surroundings in general, and with Mrs. Gray in particular. Her first impulse was to run home, then in agony she remembered that her mother was not there.
Patiently she worked away till the fire was started. Mrs. Gray's bulky form in the meantime was swinging energetically back and forth in the one rocking chair of her two-room apartment, while her voluble tongue wagged mercilessly on.
"You can cook them potatoes and fry some mush and make me a cup of tea. You and father can drink water; tea ain't good fer children nohow, ha, ha!
"Ugh, this fire feels good! I'm glad I ain't where your ma is tonight."
"Why, Mis' Gray," half sobbed Rosa, "didn't mother go to the beautiful land?"
"You be still and git supper, and don't ask me no questions!"
"There, there, dearie, don't cry! Of course your ma went there." It was grandpa who spoke.
"A heap you know about it, father, and I jest want you to keep still, too!
"Look out there! Don't you spatter no grease a-fryin' that mush, or you'll wish you hadn't. I believe in the good old-fashioned rod, and there's one stuck up over that door, handy like. See it?"
To her great dismay, looking in the direction indicated, Rosa beheld a cruel whip, the first one ever intended for her. Her little frame shook so violently from fear that grandpa could endure it no longer.
"Tut, tut, Sary; Rosa ain't the child to need no whippin', and don't skeer the poor lamb so.
"Never mind, dearie," reaching out for her a withered hand, "Sary don't mean it; Sary's a good woman, yes, a very good woman."
"Father, I want you to remember right now that you ain't to put no say in when I correct her. There ain't but one boss here, and that's me, so there! Do you understand? I 'spose not, though, fer you ain't got no sense. You're tryin' enough, goodness knows,that there ain't many but what'd use the rod on you."
So blinded by tears that she could not see what she was doing, by accident Rosa dropped a piece of the fried mush upon the floor.
"There!" shrieked Mrs. Gray, "what did I tell you? I'm a-goin' to lick you this very minute, now you jest see. I guess you'll learn to mind after I've done it a few times."
"Grandpa!" and with a bound Rosa jumped into the old man's outstretched arms, while tears chased each other in quick succession down his faded cheeks.
Making an effort to arise hastily from her chair, Mrs. Gray with a sharp cry of pain, suddenly sank backward again.
"Oh, my ankle's plum give out—I can't take one step! But you never mind, I'll lick you some other time, and you needn't fergit it neither. Git right down and clean up that mush, and fix some hot water fer me to put my foot in."
Seeing the helpless condition of the tyrant, Rosa waited long enough before obeying to kiss grandpa, and for him to whisper encouragingly:
"Never mind, dearie; we'll go the very first chance we have, and if we can't do no better, we'll run off."
"There!" shrieked Mrs. Gray, "what did I tell you?" [Page 44."There!" shrieked Mrs. Gray, "what did I tell you?" [Page 44.
With some degree of composure, Rosa performed her tasks, for evidently, judging from the groans ofthe patient, the promised "lickin'" would be indefinitely postponed.
While eating supper, Mrs. Gray divided her attentions about equally between the two helpless victims of her wrath. The sprained ankle was entirely due to the fact that grandpa was gone twenty minutes instead of fifteen, and that she, obliging woman that she was, took it upon herself to make all the arrangements for Mrs. Browning, instead of looking after her own welfare. Not many could be found who would do half as much for others as she.
The grease from that mush would stay in the floor all winter, seriously injuring her reputation of being the best housekeeper in the thickly populated building. She never could endure dirt and disorder, though poverty-striken from the day she married Tom Gray.
On the whole, Rosa was so thoroughly miserable that very little supper could she eat. The thought that she and grandpa would soon find the beautiful land and mother, was all that gave her even the slightest ray of hope. "But," she added mentally, "I am sure mother would tell me to stay and take care of Mis' Gray till she can walk again. She always did do more talking than anything else, mother said so, mebbe she won't whip me."
The evening was long and gloomy, but Rosa waskept busily employed, carrying out the peremptory commands of the cripple. She bathed and tenderly rubbed the offending ankle till her arm ached cruelly.
At last, with a sigh of relief, wrapping herself up in a blanket and lying down upon the floor, she dreamed till morning of mother, the beautiful land, and of Jesus who paid the fare.
For three weeks Mrs. Gray was unable to take a step except by using a crutch, the pain at times being so severe that sewing was out of the question.
Her slender savings not being sufficient to meet the emergency of the case, Rosa in her spare moments was obliged to run errands, tend babies while the mothers were out working, or to do anything else chancing to come her way.
Her allowance of food often was meager, though never once did she complain. Every day she was growing more thin and pale, her eyes more large and lustrous, while her heart was almost breaking.
Night after night the swollen ankle had to be gently rubbed, or Mrs. Gray could not sleep. No word of praise ever escaped the cruel lips, but fretting, scolding, and threats of the much talked of "lickin'" for that grease spot upon the floor were the only reward the weary little worker ever received.
There was one, however, though his mind was badlyshattered, who saw and understood, causing the feeble old man to suffer quite as intensely as did the child.
They could snatch opportunities only now and then for a word, fearing that the ever-vigilant Mrs. Gray might discover their cherished secret.
"Be brave, dearie," grandpa would sometimes whisper, "the very first chance, you know!" Then Rosa's pensive face would light up with a smile angelic, reflecting some of the very beauty itself of the land of which they were so earnestly thinking.
One Thursday afternoon, just as Mrs. Gray was beginning to walk again, the postman stopped with a letter, a rare occurrence.
"Land sakes, who can it be from?" she exclaimed, scrutinizing the envelope quite long enough to have read the letter through.
"I'd like to awful well," at last she soliloquized, "but don't 'spose it'd be safe to leave grandpa and Rosa here alone. No tellin' what they'd be up to. There ain't many that'd be as self-sacrificin' as I am, and keep an old man that ain't got a drop of your own blood, then take in as good as a street waif, too. If it wuzn't fer them, I'd do it, I jest would!"
Rosa's curiosity was aroused, but experience had taught her the futility of asking questions.
"Rosa," commanded the speaker, "bring me that tin can up there on the shelf.
"I guess I could manage the streetcar fare," she announced a few minutes later, counting over several times Rosa's earnings in pennies, nickels and dimes.
"My old neighbor over on the south side wants me to come tomorrow and stay till Monday. Bein' that I've had it so awful hard, I jest guess I'll do it, and you can git along the best way you can. Let me see: I'll go tomorrow afternoon, and be gone all day Saturday and Sunday and till late Monday afternoon. I'll leave you fifteen cents apiece to live on, and I guess you won't starve."
Instinctively grandpa and Rosa cast a glance at each other. At last their opportunity had come, and a better one by far than for which they had dared to hope!
The time intervening between the reception of the letter and her departure, Mrs. Gray spent mostly in giving directions to her two charges, as she delighted to call them.
After having gone down the first flight of stairs, she called back:
"Rosa, I'll lick you sure if you git another speck of grease on that there floor, while I'm gone."
But Rosa heeded not. Tomorrow she and grandpa would start for the beautiful land and mother, for Jesus had paid all the fare.
Early the next morning Rosa and grandpa were up, eagerly preparing for the events of the day, their every motion evidencing a subdued excitement, while joy beamed from their eyes.
"I'm going to make you some tea, grandpa, 'cause it's cold, and I think you'll feel better to drink it. Mis' Gray told me I shouldn't touch it, but since we're going away, I guess it won't make no difference. We may have to travel a good ways, you know. Mother used to drink tea, when we could afford it, before starting out to work all day. My, ain't I glad we're going to find mother! And she won't be coughing no more. I want to see her so bad. Of course Mis' Gray has been good to give me a home, but I'd rather be with mother. She's different some way, and I love her so. It seems so long since she went away."
"Thank you, dearie, fer this tea; it's real bracin' like, and I can't remember when I've had none before Tom used to git it fer me, and anything else I wanted.
"Yes, I'm mighty glad we're a-goin', mighty glad, fer I'm a-gittin' homesicker all the time. I think we'll find Tom, too, and Tom's mother. There's a lot I want to tell 'em. Sary's so busy, she don't have no time to talk to me.
"Last night I dreamed ag'in that I wuz in the little white meetin' house with the steeple a-pintin' straight up. The green vines a-wavin' in the breeze wuz a-growin' all over it, and the roses smelled so pretty. And the man wuz a-readin' out of the Book, Rosa. Wish I could read, then I'd know it fer myself."
"What was he reading about, grandpa?"
"Dunno as I can tell you, child, only somethin' about a river, and a tree by it, and fruit, and the folks don't git sick no more, and—well, I can't tell you, Rosa, but hurry up, let's start! When we git there, we'll know all about it then."
"Here, grandpa, put this bread in your pocket, please. P'rhaps we'll need it."
"I'll take it fer you, Rosa, if you say so, but I don't think we'll need it. 'Pears like the man said somethin' about their not gittin' hungry no more, nor thirsty."
"But then mebbe we'll want it on the way."
"All right, all right, Rosa, but are you 'most ready? Seems like I can't wait."
"Yes, I'm ready now, but I'm so 'fraid you'll be cold, grandpa, dear."
"No, no, child, we'll soon git there."
The two children trudged down the three long flights of steps, the younger leading the older lest he should trip and fall.
The morning was dreary, with a cold wind blowing and with snow flakes scurrying through the air. Both being insufficiently clad, they were shivering before having gone a block.
"'Tis mighty cold, ain't it, dearie? I had no idee about it; but then we won't mind, jest so we git there."
"Yes, grandpa, but I hope it won't take us long, for the wind blows so awful hard. It used to make mother cough to be out in a wind like this.
"The big black carriage that came after her, went 'round this corner, so we'll go this way too. I'm sure nobody on Burton street knows the way anyhow. I'd think they would, though, when the fare's all paid; but p'rhaps they've never been told about it.
"When we see a pretty lady dressed fine, we'll ask her, for I guess she'd know; but then it's for poor folks, too.
"I wonder why nobody ever told me about Jesus before? I'll be so glad when I see Him."
Tenderly clasping each other by the hand, they walked for blocks, meeting hundreds of people, though none of them appealed to Rosa's fancy. She was looking for a beautiful girl with blue eyes and a blue suit, who would look down upon her with a smile. A feeling of uncertainty was beginning to depress her, but to grandpa she continued to talk hopefully.
At last realizing that he was becoming very tired, she determined to wait no longer before inquiring the way. Singling out of the jostling crowd a well-dressed woman with a fur cloak, which Rosa thought looked so warm, she stepped up to her, and said:
"Please, ma'am, grandpa and me want to go to the beautiful land where folks don't cough no more. Mother's gone, and Jesus paid all the fare, and it don't cost nothing to live there, neither. Won't you please tell us the way?"
"What a very singular question!" was the unfeeling reply, the haughty face relaxing not at all as the woman passed on.
"I think she didn't understand, grandpa," said the disappointed child, "but I'll try again. There's a lady dressed in blue. I'm pretty sure she'll know."
In a tremulous voice the question was repeated.
"Why, you queer little girl! Are you talking about heaven?"
"I don't know, ma'am, only it's where Jesus has paid the fare, and where there ain't no rent days to come 'round."
"Really, I scarcely know what to say, only you and this poor old man ought not to be out on this cold day."
"We thought we'd soon be there, ma'am, but 'tis dreadful cold," she replied, her slight frame shivering violently from head to foot.
"Can't you tell us? We want to go so awful bad. I should think you could, since it's for everybody."
"It is too cold and crowded to stand here and talk, child. Do you go to Sunday school?"
"No, ma'am; what is Sunday school?"
"You poor little heathen! Don't you know what Sunday schools are? They have them in all the churches. Find one and go tomorrow. They will tell you what you want better than I can.
"Take this quarter and get something to eat, then go back home. You will meet no one on the street to help you."
Having thus somewhat eased her conscience, this church-member of many years went on to complete her shopping. However, things did not go well therest of the day. The wan face, the sad brown eyes and the pathetic earnestness of the little questioner were constantly before her.
Stopping to see the church treasurer on her way home, she left a check for fifty dollars to be used in city mission work, feeling confident that at last her responsibility in the case was at an end.
It was nearing the noon hour, and Rosa was hungry.
"I think instead of eating that dry bread in your pocket, grandpa, that we'll get some warm sandwiches. You wait: I can get them in here, 'cause I was in one time before with mother."
Very soon she returned, bringing with her their feast.
"Let's go down this alley and sit on that box. I guess the p'licemen won't care."
"All right, dearie, but it's a mighty long ways to the beautiful land, ain't it? I thought we'd surely be there by now, and I'm gittin' so tired and cold. I think if Tom knew we'd started, he'd come and meet us."
While they were eating, Rosa was frightened to hear suddenly the abrupt question in a gruff voice, "What are you doing here?" and before her terrified eyes loomed a great policeman.
She, like most children of her class, feared instinctively these city protectors, and would have run, had it have not been for grandpa.
"Oh," she replied, with as much dignity and composure as possible, "we are going to the beautiful land, and are just eating our sandwiches. It don't cost nothing to go, 'cause God so loved the world and Jesus paid all the fare. Mother's gone, and folks don't cough no more there. You don't have to pay rent, and can have everything you want, too."
So astonished was the policeman at this unexpected reply that he forgot to order them away.
"Well, I never!" at last he ejaculated, being unable to think of anything more appropriate for the occasion. "But let me tell you, little girl, you and that old man want to turn in wherever you came from before dark, or you'll be more likely to go to the police station than to this beautiful land you're talking about."
So saying, he started off upon his beat.
The mere thought of spending the night at the police station so thoroughly terrorized Rosa that her heart for the instant almost stood still.
Billy Bruce, the boy who lived next door to Mrs. Gray, had told her blood-curdling tales concerning his oft-repeated experiences in being locked up for thenight, and, moreover, according to his criterion, he was always innocent of any misdemeanor.
"But the worst part of all," he had confided, "is a goin' before the judge. You know the judge is the man what's made to git folks into trouble."
What should she do? Her childish eyes could see that grandpa was about given out, but the mere thought of returning to Burton street filled her with a feeling akin to terror.
"But," she argued, "Mis' Gray won't be home till Monday, and mebbe it's too far to the beautiful land that we can't get there today, anyhow. And I know mother'd feel awful if we'd get put in the p'lice station.
"Say, grandpa," she suddenly inquired, "why didn't we ask that p'liceman the way? They're on purpose to tell folks how to go. I wish we had, but then I'm afraid to speak to another."
"I don't know, child, but I wish we wuz there. I'm so cold and tired, and I want Tom."
"I'll tell you, grandpa, let's go back and get warm and rested. You know there is some of that bushel of coal left Mis' Gray got the other day. Then tomorrow we can try once more. The lady said something about church and Sunday school, but I don't know what she meant. Mebbe we can find someyet to tell us, when it's for everybody. I'd think we could."
"Jest as you say, dearie, jest as you say, but it 'pears like we must find it, 'cause I'm so homesick."
Slowly they began retracing their steps, the old man leaning heavily with one hand upon the stick which served as a cane, and with the other clasping Rosa's.
Turning a corner, they suddenly came face to face with a well-dressed gentleman who, Rosa thought, could certainly tell them.
"Oh, say, mister," she said running up to his side, "won't you please—"
"No, I won't, you little beggar, I have nothing for you."
For the instant she was so surprised and indignant, that she could not answer, but, collecting herself, shouted after him:
"We ain't either beggars, and I don't want no money. I just want to know the way to the beautiful land."
But the man was lost in the crowd, and the weary, disappointed pilgrims started on.
So frequently did they have to turn aside into some alley or secluded spot for grandpa to rest that Rosa became alarmed. What if night should overtake them, bringing to pass the policeman's direful prediction?
She was so tired and cold, and her heart so heavy from repeated disappointments, that the tears began rolling down her pale cheeks.
"What is it, my little girl?" unexpectedly some one gently asked.
In unutterable surprise, she looked up into the face of another policeman who was smiling kindly upon her.
Many a warm heart beats beneath the policeman's star, and Rosa's evident sorrow had aroused the sincere sympathy of this one.
"You and the old man step up here out of the wind by this building, and tell me your trouble. Are you lost?"
"No, sir, we ain't lost, but just can't find the way."
"Not lost, but can't find the way? How is it? I don't understand. Maybe I can help you, if you will explain."
At this Rosa broke into uncontrollable sobs, and for several minutes could not answer.
At last, with many a pause, the whole story was told.
"And oh," she added, with all the earnestness of which her intense nature was capable, "can you really tell us? Please, oh, please do, for I can't stand it any longer without mother, and she's looking for me, 'cause Jesus paid the fare. I just must go!"
Rosa broke into uncontrollable sobs. [Page 60.Rosa broke into uncontrollable sobs. [Page 60.
"Ah, sweet baby," he faltered, his massive frame shaking with emotion, "I've a mother in the beautiful land looking for me, too!
"Long years ago I promised to meet her there, but, no, I've never found the way. I cannot tell you."
"If the way's so hard to find, how do folks get there? And lots of them are going, for the lady said so. I do wish mother'd come back for grandpa and me"; and again the child broke into sobs.
"Don't cry any more, little one. They say the way is easy to find. Let me think a minute; maybe I can help you after all. There's a big church on the corner there, and I know the pastor loves poor people. If you should go there tomorrow, he would tell you the way, I know.
"Now cheer up, and get back to your home as soon as possible. It will be getting dark presently, and you will half freeze. I will walk down to the corner with you, and point out the church."
Rosa's hopes were beginning to rise once more, but upon beholding the massive stone structure indicated by the policeman, she felt less sanguine.
"Are you real sure, mister, we could find the way if we'd go in there?" at length she said.
"Yes, I know it, for the pastor has wanted many times to teach me the way, and I wouldn't let him."
Rosa had no idea who or what the pastor might be, and forgot to inquire, because of her unutterable surprise.
It was simply unthinkable that any one could deliberately refuse the information which she and grandpa so earnestly coveted.
"Mister p'liceman, why didn't you want to know the way?" she gasped, impulsively grasping his big, brawny hand. "Wouldn't you like to know now?"
"Yes, little one, I would, and by God's help I will. But come, you must be gone! It is almost dark. I'll watch for you in the morning, and take you to the door. Be sure not to disappoint me. Goodbye!"
That evening in the quiet of his room a wonderful thing happened.
Tucked away in the bottom of his trunk was a Bible, given to him years before by his mother, when he was but a mere lad. This he brought forth, and till a late hour poured over its precious contents. Then falling upon his knees, this prodigal of many years found in Jesus the true way to the beautiful land. He Himself said that no man cometh unto the Father but by Him. And an unspeakable peace filled his soul.
The last half mile of their walk seemed almost interminable both to Rosa and grandpa.
As the darkness began to gather, every shadow toher excited imagination was transformed into a policeman coming to lock them up.
After the trying experiences of the day, it was a relief to be back once more in the dingy rooms which they had expected never to see again.
Rosa soon had a fire feebly burning in the little stove, then prepared a scanty supper, offset by another cup of tea for grandpa.
The shabby couch she pulled up by the stove for him, and did all within her power to make him warm and comfortable.
Sitting by his side and watching him solicitously, she was beginning to fear that he might not be able for the journey tomorrow, for without a doubt he was much exhausted. At last the tears began rolling down his face and fell upon her hand.
"Oh, grandpa, what is it?" she asked, the tears coming to her own eyes. "You ain't sick, are you?"
"No, no, dearie, but mighty dis'p'inted. I thought we'd be there tonight sure, and I'm so homesick! Too bad, too bad, ain't it, when the fare's all paid, and they're a-looking fer us? We wouldn't git hungry nor cold there, neither, nor tired."
"Yes, but, grandpa dear, the p'liceman said we could find the way tomorrow in that great big building. Of course he must know, don't you think so?"
"Say, Rosa," he asked excitedly, not noticing her question, and rising partly up, while his eyes sparkled with new hope, "I can't remember, but did it have a steeple a-p'intin' straight up?"
"Yes, such a big one, grandpa. It must go pretty nearly to the sky."
"Then it'll be all right, I'm mighty sure of that, but it 'pears like it'd ought to have green vines a-runnin' all over it, and with roses a-growin' 'round. Wuz there any?"
"No, grandpa, for this is winter, you know. The roses won't be blooming outdoors now, but sometimes I see them in the stores."
"And so we'll git there tomorrow, Rosa," he added dreamily, "and not be dis'p'inted no more! I'm so mighty glad, so mighty glad."
Grandpa was asleep, but becoming more and more restless. His hands no longer were cold, but felt hot to Rosa, as she vainly endeavored to keep them covered. The flushed cheeks and rapid breathing convinced his faithful and experienced young nurse that it would be wise for her to sit by his side till morning. The hours were long and dreary, and at every sound her overtaxed nerves would cause her to start. Sometimes she was sure that a policeman was coming after them; and again Mrs. Gray was about to enter theroom with a cruel whip in her hand. So certain was she once of hearing her mother call that she jumped to her feet to obey the summons. Then before her vision would stand a lovely girl dressed in blue, smiling down upon her and saying:
"Jesus paid all the fare long ago."
Toward morning grandpa grew more quiet. The little watcher dropped her head upon his pillow and fell asleep, dreaming that mother was holding her in her arms, softly singing as of yore.
It was late before they awakened the next morning. Rosa, though not much rested herself, was delighted to see grandpa apparently so well. She could not remember ever before having seen him step so lightly around the room. His eyes were shining, and every few minutes he would sing snatches of his one song, while assisting her in the preparation of their light breakfast.
"We're a-goin' to find it today, Rosa, I'm mighty sure, yes, mighty sure of that; and I'm so glad."
"I hope so, grandpa dear."
"Yes, we are, fer he said so."
"Who said so?"
"Why, Tom. Don't you remember? We seen him last night, Rosa. Surely you ain't fergot.
"We wuz a-crossin' the pretty brook on the bridge under the willers, when all to once Tom come a-runnin' up, and wuz so glad to see us. Jest then the bell on the little white meetin' house with the steeple a-p'intin' straight up begun a-ringin', and it sounded better'n music. Oh, it wuz so mighty sweet, Rosa! I can 'most hear it now. And when we got there, the people was a-singin' about the beautiful land. Everybody wuz so happy, 'cause the fare wuz paid and they all know'd the way. Tom he says, 'Don't be dis'p'inted no more, father, 'cause you're a goin' to git there, and no mistake!'
"Now, Rosa dear," he continued, while walking rapidly back and forth across the room, "let's git ready and start right off, and not lose no more time.
"We're goin' to the big meetin' house today, didn't you say?"
"Yes, grandpa, the one the p'liceman showed us, you know."
"'Pears like we'd ought to fix up a little bit then. My shoes look most mighty bad, don't they? It might worry Tom some. I don't like to have him find out how poor I've been, but then it won't make no difference after we git there.
"Say, do you think Sary would miss it, if I'd take some of her stove polish and black 'em up a little?"
"Oh, I don't believe she would."
"Then I'll take jest a tiny bit, not that she'd care, fer Sary's a good woman, yes, a very good woman, but mighty partic'lar about her blackin'."
Rosa patiently assisted in the process, but it would have been difficult for the aesthetic eye to have discovered the improvement. Grandpa was satisfied, and that was enough.
"I don't want you to get cold like you did yesterday, grandpa. The wind's blowing hard. Wish you had more to put 'round you."
"Well, I ain't got it, dearie, but I don't mind, fer we're a-goin' to git there today. Tom'll look after me then."
"Here, you take this: it'll help a little," and she slipped from her own neck a well-worn muffler formerly belonging to her mother. She carefully pinned together his thin shabby coat, for the buttons long since were gone, and wrapped the muffler about his neck and face.
Her own clothing, since mother moved, had grown threadbare and ragged, forming but little protection against the cold, cutting winds.
Their hearts, notwithstanding all outward difficulties and the disappointments of the preceding day, were buoyant with hope as they started out once more upon their pilgrimage.
Their one friend, the policeman, saw them coming and met them a short distance from their destination.
"Good morning, grandpa and my little lady," he cheerily called, "I have been expecting you for some time. I had almost begun to fear that something had prevented your coming. Follow me, and I shall see that the usher gives you a seat up in front. I know you will find the way in here, and I have at last, thank God, found it myself!"
Rosa wondered at this, but could ask no questions. They were entering the imposing building now, while throngs of well-dressed people, eyeing her curiously, were surging by. She was disappointed, for her past experience had convinced her that no well-dressed person but her one girl in blue, knew the way to the beautiful land.
While she was considering the advisability of an immediate retreat, the policeman called to an usher:
"Here, Dawson, are some friends of mine whom I want Dr. Fairfax to meet personally. Send a messenger for him at once. I know he will be willing to come; then give them good seats where they can both hear and see. Do just as I say, for these are my very special friends," he added, as the usher looked at him both quizzically and uncertainly.
"And, Dawson, tell him, too, that I have found the way, praise the Lord!
"I must go now, and God take care of you, Rosa. You have taught me what you so want to know yourself. The old Book says that a little child shall lead them, and it is true."
The usher hesitated somewhat to break the pastor's quiet half-hour which he had always spent with a few faithful workers before going into the pulpit, but seeing the tears beginning to roll down the sweet, sad face of the child, he sent the messenger post-haste.
Very soon a tall, handsome man appeared.
"Good morning, Mr. Dawson, and what may I do for you?" he pleasantly inquired.
Something about his voice and kindly manner attracted Rosa immediately, and, characteristically impulsive, not waiting for Mr. Dawson's reply she ran up to the stranger's side and said:
"Oh, please, mister, won't you tell me how to go? The policeman said you could. Grandpa and me want to go to the beautiful land, and mother's gone. Folks don't cough no more there, and Jesus paid all the fare, 'cause the pretty lady said so, and it don't cost nothing after you get there. Can you tell me the way?"
The pastor in his surprise stood motionless for a moment, then astonished Mr. Dawson by lifting the little girl up in his arms and kissing her fondly.
"Rosa," he said, "you are the straying lamb forwhom Esther and I have been praying for weeks, and now God has sent you. By His help I shall teach you the way this very morning.
"This is grandpa, is it not?" he added, grasping the old man cordially by the hand. "I am indeed very glad to see you.
"Mr. Dawson, you are needed to seat the people. I shall escort these to a pew myself."
The trio a few minutes later slowly passing down the aisle was certainly unusually striking. The pastor, with head erect and thoroughly conscious that many were displeased, was half supporting upon his strong right arm the shabbily-dressed and feeble man, while the child in ragged apparel he tenderly led by the hand.
An observant eye might have noted various expressions upon the faces in the audience. Some evidently were disgusted that their popular pastor would so demean himself. Others were interested because of the oddity of the scene, still others amused, while here and there was one conversant with the language of the Master and who prayed God's blessing to abide upon all three.
Belonging to the first-named class was Dr. Dale, wealthy, cautiously conservative always, aristocratic, exclusive in his circle of friends, and who wished also to be exclusive in his church relationship. The knowledgeof his power over the majority of his acquaintances was a source of constant gratification to the proud man, but the fact that his pastor would not bow the knee to his wealth and position chafed him sorely. The events of this particular Sunday morning he took as only another personal insult.
"Umph!" he grunted in deep displeasure, and reached over to pick up his hat preparatory to leaving. He could not countenance anything so ridiculously absurd. If the pastor's eccentricities continued to develop as they had in the last year, he would be compelled to seek another and more congenial church home, where form was more in evidence.
Prim little Mrs. Dale, the one person in the world who could influence her austere husband, gently tapped him upon the arm and whispered:
"Stay, my dear, and see what comes of it all. It is really quite unusual."
"Well," he thought, "I'll stay to please her, and in the meantime take a nap."
More to his discomfiture than ever, Dr. Fairfax had seated the strange pair directly across the aisle from him in the pew with Esther.
Glancing over to note the effect upon her, Mr. Dale saw that she took the little girl up into her lap, bestowing upon her fond caresses. He looked long enoughfor Rosa's large brown eyes to meet his own, then with a great heart pang turned away. When had he ever seen so perfect a likeness to his own Margaret, his only and idolized darling, who had left his home the year before? Something seemed to be clutching at his heart most relentlessly, while a lump was filling his throat. Nervously and hastily lest his wife might see, he wiped from his brow the gathering perspiration. Persistently he endeavored to settle down for the nap, but with eyes either closed or open, all he could see was the child across the aisle. One moment he wished to fold her within his arms so strangely empty for twelve long months, and the next mentally upbraided her for so cruelly tearing open the one deep wound of his life.
Presently he became aware that the voluntary had ceased, and that a restlessness was sweeping over the great audience. Arousing himself somewhat from his harrowing reveries, he looked at his watch and found that it was ten minutes past the time for the service to begin, and Dr. Fairfax had not yet entered the pulpit.
While the people were wondering what the cause of the delay might be, he appeared.
An unusual note of tenderness in the invocation prepared the auditors in some degree for what followed.
"Brethren," he said, "it is recorded in Holy Writ that Jesus took a child and set it in the midst ofthem. Just as truly has He set in our midst today a child, and for this reason the whole order of service shall be changed. God helping me, I shall hide behind the cross, that the people may see Jesus only, and I shall present the way of salvation so simply that wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein.
"We are living in a rationalistic age, when by many the God of miracles is denied; when the incarnation of the Son of God is considered a fable, having its counterpart in nearly all religions; when a belief in a literal hell and a literal heaven is becoming obsolete; when the atonement of our Lord Jesus Christ, making it possible to escape the one and gain the other, is held as a relic of superstition; when the verbal inspiration of the Bible is ridiculed; and when character-building is rapidly superseding the belief in the necessity of the new birth.
"Perhaps I have not been sufficiently determined myself to know nothing among you save Jesus Christ and Him crucified, and have spoken too often upon popular themes. Today I shall not speak upon the subject announced, 'Applied Christianity the Remedy for Social Evils,' but," and he looked down upon Rosa to be sure that she understood, "'Heaven, or the Way to the Beautiful Land.' Preparatory to what I may say, I shall read the last two chapters of Revelation."
"And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea.
"And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.
"And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.
"And He that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And He said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful. And He said unto me, It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely. He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be My son. But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death.
"And there came unto me one of the seven angels which had the seven vials full of the seven last plagues, and talked with me, saying, Come hither, I will show thee the bride, the Lamb's wife.
"And he carried me away in the spirit to a great and high mountain, and showed me that great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, having the glory of God: and her light was like unto a stone most precious, even like a jasper stone, clear as crystal; and a wall great and high, and had twelve gates, and at the gates twelve angels, and names written thereon, which are the names of the twelve tribes of the children of Israel: on the east three gates; on the north three gates; on the south three gates; and on the west three gates.
"And the wall of the city had twelve foundations, and in them the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.
"And he that talked with me had a golden reed to measure the city, and the gates thereof, and the wall thereof. And the city lieth foursquare, and the length is as large as the breadth * * * *
"And the building of the wall of it was of jasper: and the city was pure gold, like unto clear glass. And the foundations of the wall of the city were garnished with all manner of precious stones * * * * And thetwelve gates were twelve pearls; every several gate was of one pearl; and the street of the city was pure gold, as it were transparent glass.
"And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.
"And the nations of them which are saved shall walk in the light of it: and the kings of the earth do bring their glory and honor into it. And the gates of it shall not be shut at all by day: for there shall be no night there. And they shall bring the glory and honor of the nations into it. And there shall in no wise enter into it any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie: but they which are written in the Lamb's book of life.
"And he showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb.
"In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.
"And there shall be no more curse: but the throne ofGod and of the Lamb shall be in it: and His servants shall serve Him: and they shall see His face; and His names shall be in their foreheads. And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever * * * *
"Blessed are they that do His commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city."
This incomparable description of the New Jerusalem, read in a finely modulated voice, had a marked effect upon the audience, though the reader was conscious of the presence of but three, Rosa, grandpa, and the Lord Jesus Himself.
Dr. Dale was more disgusted than ever, or at least tried to be.
"What unreasonable fanaticism!" he thought. "When men leave their homes and business to attend church, they want something practical, something acting as a stimulus in daily life. Being surrounded as we are on every hand by social evils, strife between capital and labor, and with anarchical tendencies becoming constantly more prevalent, we need something bearing directly upon these problems. There'll be time enough for these other things. Of course I believein heaven, for Margaret is there, and when I die I want to go to her.
"I wish Dr. Fairfax had left these vagrants where they belong. The child's face haunts me. Her eyes are almost as starry and full of expression as Margaret's. That's the queerest little old man I ever saw. I can't see how they happen to be here."
And so his mind wandered restlessly on during the preliminary services.
"Let all the people," announced the speaker, "join in singing that old hymn which some of us have not heard in years, 'The Home of the Soul.'"
The great organ filled the vast auditorium with the strains of the melody, followed by a volume of sweetest song. Many were carried back to the scenes of their childhood, where, gathered around the family altar, were the dear ones long since singing in paradise.
The strangers across the aisle again attracted Dr. Dale's attention. The old man was leaning forward with both hands resting upon his cane, his eyes were closed, and the tears were slowly trickling down the wrinkled face, while with a plaintive, quavery voice he was joining in the singing of his well-beloved song.
At last it was time for the sermon, but the preacher, who by his eloquence and magnetic personality couldsway thousands, felt as helpless as a little child to perform the duty before him.
He announced his text: "Jesus saith unto him, I am the way" (John 14:6).
The audience wondered why at that particular point he stopped apparently to offer a word of silent prayer. But then they could not see the expression of hope flash across the face of the child, nor the old man lean still a little farther forward that he might catch every word.
"Rosa," whispered grandpa, "didn't I tell you if we'd go to a meetin' house with the steeple a-p'intin' straight up, we'd find the way? Yes, yes, that's it, it surely is, Rosa, and it's all a-beginnin' to come back. Jesus is the way, Jesus is the way! I wonder I ain't thought of it before."
The sermon which followed, simple in every detail, began by calling attention to the marvelously beautiful description of the heavenly land as contained in the Scripture previously read.
"There are representatives here today of many classes and conditions of society," said the speaker, "the high and the low, the rich and the poor, the learned and the ignorant; but there is no eye that has not shed bitter tears, no life unacquainted with death, sorrow, crying, or pain. Thank God for that glad coming daywhen He will wipe away all tears, when there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, nor pain; for these things shall have passed away!"
He spoke of the glimpse the Scripture gives of the city itself, the New Jerusalem, with its walls and gates. "There is no language of earth by which its glories can be fully described," he continued; "where our idea of beauty leaves off, there heaven begins! Even its foundations are made of the rarest jewels we know.
"But heaven's happiness consists not in mere outward things. God is there, and the Lamb! In God's presence is fulness of joy, and at His right hand are to be found the truest pleasures for evermore. There the redeemed out of every nation shall serve Him, and they shall see His face with no veil of time or sense between.
"This holy city will never be marred by the entering in of anything that defileth, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life shall behold and enjoy its splendor and happiness.
"I think I hear some poor soul say: 'Then there is no hope for me!'
"Yes, there is hope!
"'But I have sinned!'
"That is true. All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God. There is none righteous, no, not one. We are by nature and practice strangers to God,even the new-born babe having wrapped up within its tiny bosom a sinful heritage and bias. And the soul that sinneth shall die. But sin can be put away, and its dreadful penalty escaped. Shall I not tell you how?
"It is by the love and grace of our heavenly Father that we can be justified freely through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. God loved us in our sin and rebellion, and sent His only-begotten Son to bring earth's inhabitants back to Himself, that they might share the joys of the heavenly home. Ere He came to earth, an angel of the Lord appeared and said His name should be called Jesus, for He should save His people from their sins. When at length He was born, the angel appeared to the wondering shepherds on the hillside near Bethlehem, and said: 'Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people: for unto you is born this day a Saviour.' He came to seek and save the lost. For thirty years He lived a secluded but holy life at Nazareth. Then for three years He went about doing good, working marvelous miracles and saying wonderful words. At length they took Him, and crucified Him on Calvary! 'Behold,' John had said, 'the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world!' Do you not see how it is? Christ died—not for His own sins, for He was holy, harmless, undefiled, but for your sins and mine. He bore oursins in His body on the cross. Believe on Him, and you are saved!
"Yes, childlike trust in the Lord Jesus Christ as your Saviour gives your soul peace with God and makes your entrance into the house of many mansions sure! He went back to prepare a place for us who believe on Him, and promised to come again and receive us unto Himself, that where He is, there we may be also. Jesus Himself is the way home!"
So clearly did he explain the plan of salvation that Rosa began to grasp the truth. All the pent-up love of her ardent nature she began to bestow upon Jesus, and in the joy of this new experience forgot her crushing sorrow.
The sermon closed by another extended reference to heaven, with special emphasis upon the fact of its being real, and not simply a state of blissful being, as many profess to believe, and with an appeal to the skeptical to take Jesus at His word.
"He said, 'I go to prepare aplacefor you.' Is it not His positive statement sufficient? Has He ever proved untrue to His promises concerning this life? Has He ever turned a deaf ear to the penitent sinner's prayer? Has He ever refused to speak the word of comfort to the heart breaking beneath its load? Has He ever called one to some particular service in His vineyardwithout supplying the needed strength? Has He ever forgotten to pour forth His abundant and sustaining grace upon the trusting soul about the pass through the dark, mysterious valley of death? And would He say that He was going to prepare aplacefor us, that where He is there we may be also, meaning only that He was going to prepare a state of glorified—nothingness? Impossible! It is an insult to our Lord.
"He who left the glory-circled throne for thirty-three years of wandering in this world, for rejection by those whom He came to save, for Gethsemane and for Calvary, will hold up no false hope to lure onward those who love Him.
"He who created this beautiful world, inhabited by fallen sinful beings, will not forget to provide a home for His own who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
"Yes, heaven is a place, where the power of infinity itself is exhausted in the beautifying thereof! No sin, no sickness, no sorrow will ever pass through those gates of pearl. The saints of all ages are there, our loved ones whom we have lost a while are there, and above all our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ!
"Ah, if Satan has deluded you into a state of unbelief now, the time is coming when you will believe! Some day with unwilling feet you must part from yourLord forever to spend eternity in hell; or with hosannas and shouts of victory upon your lips, you will pass into the presence of Him who sits upon the throne, to praise Him and serve Him forever and ever!"
At the conclusion of the service, Dr. and Mrs. Dale left without waiting to speak to the pastor.
Mrs. Dale, however, stopped ostensibly to greet Esther, but in reality to look more closely at the child who had attracted her quite as much as her husband.
The doctor's perturbed state did not admit of his speaking to any one. He longed for Margaret, and both loved and hated the little waif who unconsciously had so remarkably altered the affairs of the whole morning. He had endeavored not to listen to the sermon, "fit only for children, and not for men possessed of a logical turn of mind," he said to himself; but the more he tried, with the greater persistency did the ringing sentences surge through his aching brain.
"Well!" he exclaimed to his wife as soon as they were seated in their carriage, "Dr. Fairfax is a narrow-minded extremist, a fanatic. What right had he to bring those street wanderers into the church this morning? The place for them is down at the mission. Do I not give liberally toward its support? To be sure, such as they need the Gospel, but I want them to stay where they belong to get it."
"But, my dear," placidly remonstrated his wife, "there may be qualifying circumstances connected with all this which we do not understand."
"Possibly, but scarcely probable anything to warrant such an unheard-of innovation! The place for them is down at the mission, I say.
"And that sermon, if such it may be called! I thought I was at a funeral. There were hundreds of men there, who like myself went for something helpful and practical. Who cares to discuss the heavenly city when our city down here is in the throes of a strike, threatening to paralyze business for weeks and months to come, and meaning the loss of millions of dollars, both directly and indirectly?"
"I know, dear, but the Father's omnipotent hand of love will bring everything out right some day. He has promised, and His promises never fail. Is it not restful, and does it not make one more brave for the conflict, to know that there is an abiding city, at whose portals we leave earth's sorrows and perplexities?"
"Yes, wife, I know, but we are living now upon this mundane sphere, and naturally our interests center here. A belief in heaven does not straighten out affairs on earth, nor make the burdens any the lighter to bear."
"I do not know about that, since Margaret has gone. If I did not believe what Dr. Fairfax said this morning,my burden, at least, would be much heavier and harder to bear. It does help to know that she is safe, and that I shall join her myself some day."
"Oh, well, yes, of course, but then it's different when it comes to Margaret!"
For several minutes they rode in silence, when the doctor said:
"Wife, did you see that child's eyes?"
"Yes, I saw them."
"I wish—well, we are home now! Let me assist you from the carriage."
In the meantime, grandpa and Rosa were having an experience very novel to them.
Upon discovering grandpa's weak condition, a carriage had been ordered, the first one in which they had ever ridden. Esther was quietly explaining to Rosa more of Jesus and His love for the children, while her receptive little soul was eagerly taking it all in.
"Then," she said, "I can't go to the beautiful land till He sends for me! I do wish He would send soon."
"No, but He surely will send some day, Rosa, and perhaps He wants you to teach others how to get there."
"If He does, then I'm willing to stay, 'cause so many don't know."
In her broken childish way, Rosa told of the manyand varied experiences befalling her and grandpa since mother moved.
Esther and her father were greatly touched by the pathos of the narrative, but what left the deepest impression was that in her eager quest she could find no one for so long to help her.
There in the privacy of their carriage they gave themselves anew to the work of the Lord, pledging never again to let a known opportunity to speak to a needy soul pass by.
Grandpa, like a tired child, was resting his head upon the shoulder of his new friend during the drive, and it was evident that he was very ill. The fever was returning, the mind partially wandering, but the soul rejoicing in the light of that land which he so soon was to enter.
"Ah, Rosa," he murmured over and over, "I told you so. Jesus is the way, Jesus is the way! I'm mighty glad it's all come back, but Tom he said 'twould, and I think he' a-comin' now to git me."
Upon their arrival home, with tender hands the weary old man was put to bed, while Esther took charge of Rosa, clothing her in more suitable garments, and talking simply of the Shepherd who seeks the wandering lambs.