CHAPTER XIV.THE CAMP-MEETING.
The holy sounds float up the dellTo fill my ravish’d ear,And now the glorious anthems swellOf worshipers sincere;Of hearts bow’d in the dust that shedFaith’s penitential tear.Motherwell.
The holy sounds float up the dellTo fill my ravish’d ear,And now the glorious anthems swellOf worshipers sincere;Of hearts bow’d in the dust that shedFaith’s penitential tear.Motherwell.
The holy sounds float up the dellTo fill my ravish’d ear,And now the glorious anthems swellOf worshipers sincere;Of hearts bow’d in the dust that shedFaith’s penitential tear.
The holy sounds float up the dell
To fill my ravish’d ear,
And now the glorious anthems swell
Of worshipers sincere;
Of hearts bow’d in the dust that shed
Faith’s penitential tear.
Motherwell.
Motherwell.
The next day Norman was to go with his mother and aunt to a camp-meeting. It had rained the night before, and the clouds were gathering in rather a threatening manner, obscuring the heavens, and forming in dark masses at several points on the horizon. It was thought not very prudent to go, but the strong desire in Mrs. Lester’s face overpowered the cooler judgment of the others.
“If it does not rain,” said Mrs. Lester, “those clouds will certainly be better thanthe broad glare of sunshine we have had for some days past.”
The carriage drove up to the door, and calling for some friends who lived near, they were soon on their way. The drive was very pleasant through the Fox valley, with frequent groves and pretty views of the river. They drove into the pretty town of St. Charles, across its fine bridge, with its noble piers, through the town on the east of the river, and after a little while into the deep woods in which the camp-meeting was held. The road through the woods was very bad: deep mud, and several sloughs, called in the westslews. All these critical spots were happily passed, and reaching the grove they got out of the carriage and walked on the camp-ground.
The gentleman who accompanied them brought the carriage cushions to put on the plank seats, which were rather damp with the heavy rains of the night previous.There were ministers in the elevated covered stand, appropriated to them, and a large congregation gathered for a love-feast. It was pleasant to hear them speak of the happiness of religion, to see the calm peace on their countenances, and to listen to their expressions of love to their Saviour, of faith in him, and fixed resolve to live to his service.
An intermission of a few minutes before the public service gave Norman an opportunity of looking about him. About thirty tents were pitched in a circle, and in the center of the amphitheater thus formed, seats were arranged for the congregation beneath the shade of fine noble trees that spread wide their branches. One, beneath which the preachers’ stand was placed, threw itself toward the other trees, that bent as if to meet it, making a most picturesque group. At each corner of the area there was a structure formed of four stout sticks, about five feet high,on which rested a platform covered with turf. On these rude candelabras, at dark, they kindled pine knots, to give light to the evening meetings and to the encampment. How much Norman would like to have seen this wild woodland thus illuminated, the broad glare flashing on the gathered groups.
An excellent sermon was preached on “Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ;” and then a young minister, with the sweet expression of whose face Norman had been struck, got up and made an address full of beauty. It was enforcing the law of kindness. He said that when they drove to the camp-ground the day before they had got into a slough on the road, and there they were fast, the horses remaining quiet after some ineffectual attempts to move forward. The driver, he was glad to say, betrayed no impatience, and did not swear at the delay. Soon anotherwagon drove up, and the driver, seeing the difficulty they were in, at once unhitched his own horses and drew them out. And that was what, he said, we ought to do when we saw people in trouble, draw them out if we had the power. He then spoke of the harsh judgment we often form of others, because they are deficient in some point upon which we lay stress. “Now,” he continued, “these trees that bend over us are not rounded and full on every side; some have their wealth of branches on one side, and some on another. And so Christians seldom present full symmetry of growth. One brother has a great deal of patience and very weak faith; and one sister has faith almost strong enough to remove mountains and very little patience. Now we should rather contemplate the excellences of our Christian friends than their deficiencies.”
He exhorted the people not to be likethose trees that are slow to yield their fruit, whose fruit, hard and green, required a vigorous shake to loosen its hold. “Rather,” said he, “be like those generous trees, borne down with their golden fruit, blessing the eye, and the touch, and the taste of all around—trees of blessing, making glad the heritage of God.” He spoke of words of kindness and sympathy, how often they cheered the heart of the desolate, and brightened the path of the wayfarer. How often those who were collecting for benevolent objects were more cheered with the kind words of one who had no money to give, than with the large gifts of another, grudgingly bestowed.
One word of counsel he gave, rather at variance with ordinary exhortation. He charged his hearers to try not to be first, but to be second. “In your plans and pleasures think of some one before yourself; prefer the comfort of some friend toyour own; sacrifice your own ease to promote the well-being of another, and you will tread in the footsteps of Him who pleased not himself.”
Norman saw the tears in his Aunt Lester’s eyes, as he turned to look at her, and he thought that she had learned that lesson well, that she was always thinking of other people, and preferring their comfort to her own.
The hymn, swelled by the united voices of that large congregation, filled the grove with its solemn harmony, and then the words of the benediction fell like dew upon them.
Norman had never been to a camp-meeting before, and the scene had all the charm of novelty to him. He saw the people preparing their meals in the rear of their tents, the fire made of dry sticks on the grounds, and the kettle hung on a cross stick, placed in the notches of two upright ones. The tables were spread inthe tents, and soon surrounded by family groups. A lady, who knew Norman’s aunt, invited them to dinner, after which they returned to their seats, when the bell was rung for the afternoon service.
The sermon was a good one, on “Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing may be lost.”
Norman did not remember much of the sermon; but one fact, given by the minister who rose to exhort, made a great impression upon him.
“At a time of great religious interest,” said he, “when many persons, awakened to a sense of their danger, were inquiring what they should do to be saved, I spoke to three boys, and asked them if they could not, by personal effort, lead some of their companions to the Saviour. One of the boys, a tall and thoughtful lad, stood a little apart from the rest, his eyes fixed on the ground, while I was talkingto them. He said nothing, but it was an hour of fixed resolve.
“Three days after one of the boys came to me, and said: ‘Sir, do you remember the tall boy that stood near when you were talking to us?’ ‘Yes, I do,’ I replied. ‘Well, sir, he has been trying ever since to lead sinners to Christ; and he has persuaded three men, and two women, and a little boy to give their hearts to the Saviour; and there he is, sir, talking to that gray-haired man!’ I followed the direction of the boy’s eye, and there stood the lad, his thoughtful face all aglow with feeling, as he spoke earnestly to the old man, who shortly after came forward, and knelt as a penitent at the altar of prayer. Who can estimate the good thus accomplished by the earnest efforts of this lad; and why may not every one follow his example, and make it his business to lead souls to Christ?”
It was with reluctance they left this hallowed scene, where they had been permitted to join the swell of holy song, and to hear so much that was profitable; teachings that ought to make them better. Norman would gladly have stayed for the evening services, to have seen those trees gleaming out in the ruddy light, but they would not venture to travel that road in the darkness. As it was they had a very pleasant drive home, where they came just in time for tea.