Earlier text: THE W. C. T. U. AND SPIRITUALISMRELIGIOUS LIBERTY VS. RELIGIOUS TYRANNY.
By Elder G. A. Snyder
“For this is the message that ye heard from the beginning, that we should love one another. Not as Cain, who was of that wicked one, and slew his brother. And wherefore slew he him? Because his own works were evil, and his brother’s righteous.” 1 John 3:11, 12. What message, or commandment (margin), is it that tells us to love one another? Paul says, “He that loveth another hath fulfilled the law;” and he shows what law he means by quoting four of the ten commandments. He concludes, “Therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.” See Rom. 13:8–10. Thus we see that the message which we heard from the beginning—that we should love one another—must be God’s great message of love, as set forth in the ten commandments. The generic principle of love underlying God’s law is divided into love to God and love to man. On these, says Christ, hang all the law. Matt. 22:36–40. On the first division, love to God, hang the first four commandments in a special sense; for the duties enjoined by them are duties which we owe to God alone. On the second division, love to man, hang the last six commandments in a limited sense; for the duties enjoined by them are duties which we owe to man as well as to God. Love to God is the first and great commandment, because it is the golden thread running through the whole Decalogue. While love to man is secondary, yet it is like the first, because based on love. It is covered by the last six commandments. Thus we see that with the individual’s relation of conformity, or nonconformity, to the first four commandments, no outside earthly influence has any right of dictation or coercion. In the text under consideration Cain and Abel are cited as examples, one of obedience, the other of disobedience, to the principle of love embodied in the law of God. Abel, in bringing the kind of a sacrifice ordained by God, and standing by it until he sealed his testimony with his blood, showed first his supreme love for God; for, without any regard to his own convenience, he brought the firstlings of his flock. He thereby fulfilled the first commandment, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” Secondly, he showed that he had the faith of Jesus; for in his offering there was that which pointed forward to the “Lamb of God,” who shed his innocent blood on Calvary. And in Abel’s adherence to principle even unto death, he showed that he had the same kind of faith which Jesus had, which led him to do likewise. Thus in two ways Abel showed that he had the faith of Jesus. Then the two things which distinguished Abel from his wicked brother were that he kept the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus. And by his death he showed that he allowed no outside influence to interfere with his compliance to the divine requirements. Cain, in bringing a self-ordained sacrifice, showed his supreme love for self. He doubtless reasoned that the Lord was not very particular, and so suited the offering to his own ideas and convenience. He thus broke the same commandment which Abel fulfilled, and in so doing showed that he had no faith in Jesus; for in his selfish offering there was nothing which pointed forward to the Lamb of God. Thus we see the contrast. Abel was a religious man and a Christian, who worshiped according to God’s ideas, and while he did not try to compel anyone else to worship as he did, he maintained his own right to do so even unto death. Cain was a religious man, but not a Christian. He worshiped according to his own ideas, and persecuted his brother to death for worshiping according to God’s ideas. Abel was the first man to champion the cause of religious liberty, whose adherents have always stood on that platform of eternal truth, loyalty to God and his word, and, if need be, sealed their testimony with their blood. Cain was the first man to champion the cause of religious tyranny, whose devotees have, in all ages of the world, persecuted, tortured, racked, and burned at the stake the adherents of truth. A few prominent examples will suffice to show the workings of these two contending elements in the world’s history. The sixth chapter of Daniel contains a few facts worthy of notice. Daniel, a man of God, held a high office in the Medo-Persian Empire. The idolatrous religious tyrants of his day devised a scheme, which, by flattery and misrepresentation, they succeeded in carrying out, so far as to have Daniel cast into a den of lions for obeying the law of God in preference to the law of the land. They flattered the king by proposing that he should issue a decree that he should be worshiped as God for a period of thirty days. They misrepresented the case by assuring the king that all his officers were agreed in making this proposal, whereas, Daniel had not been consulted in the matter at all. The king signed the decree, and when Daniel heard of it, he went right on praying to the God of heaven as usual, the king’s order to the contrary notwithstanding. Daniel was soon reported to the king, who, on hearing that the law was to be used for the purpose of persecution, was sore displeased with himself for having allowed these bigots to use him as a tool for the accomplishment of their wicked designs. But the thing had been done, and, according to the laws of the Medes and Persians, which changed not, Daniel must be cast into the den of lions. He submitted to the penalty without resistance, and was cast in among those ravenous beasts for daring to obey the commandment which says, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” But the God of heaven showed his approval of Daniel’s course by sending his angel, and delivering his faithful servant. Thus we have another shining example of maintaining the principles of religious liberty against religious tyranny, with this additional feature, this time the religious coercionists secured the aid of the civil power for the furtherance of their heaven-daring scheme. Nor has the Christian era been free from the iniquitous workings of religious tyranny. Nay, across its very title-page lurks the foulest blot of all. Christ, the Holy Author of Christianity, was maligned, spat upon, crowned with thorns, and finally crucified between two thieves. By whom, do you ask?—By the bigoted Jews, who, by gross misrepresentation, and threats against Pilate, finally secured the aid of Rome to put Christ to death. See John 18:29–31; 19:12, 13. And for what?—For keeping the commandments, especially the Sabbath commandment, according to God’s ideas rather than according to the Pharisees’ ideas. Compare John 5:1–18; Mark 2:23–28; 3:1–6; Luke 13:10–17, and John 9:1–16. The last scripture shows that Christ’s work had caused a division, and that many of the people were believing on him. Now read John 11:47–50. The Pharisees decided that it would be better to put Christ to death than to let him go on working miracles, and drawing the people after him; for he was a Sabbath breaker, according to their ideas, and if the people followed him, they would all become Sabbath breakers, and then God would send the Romans to destroy the Jewish nation for Sabbath breaking. Thus they flattered themselves that they were putting Christ to death to save the nation from being destroyed by the Romans. So they crucified the Saviour to save the nation; but instead of saving it, they brought upon it the very thing they sought to avert, for everybody knows that the Romans did come and destroy the Jewish nation utterly and totally. And while that mocking, jeering crowd stood around and watched the Son of God in his dying agony, he looked on them from the cruel cross, and said, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” No, they did not know what they were doing, but they did it, nevertheless, and they will be held accountable for not knowing; for Christ had said to them, “Walk while ye have the light, lest darkness come upon you; for he that walketh in darkness knoweth not whither he goeth.” If they had walked in the light as fast as it came to them, they never would have crucified Christ; but by rejecting the light, they brought darkness upon themselves, and consequently knew not whither they were going or what they were doing. Blind, religious bigots. After the crucifixion, when Peter accused the Jews of crucifying Christ, laying bare the enormity of their guilt with the sword of the Spirit, they were pricked in their hearts, and said, “Men and brethren, what shall we do?” Peter told them to repent and be baptized, and they should receive the Holy Ghost. Acts 2:36–38. And shortly afterward, when Stephen laid bare the same sin, with the same sword, they were cut to the heart; but instead of asking what they should do, they stopped their ears, and ran upon him with one accord, and stoned him to death. Acts 7:51–58. These two instances demonstrate that “the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword,” for truly it cut both ways. Thus the early history of the Christian church furnishes us with many of the brightest examples of religious liberty, as well as some of the darkest specimens of bigotry. But, shall the majority of that church, which the Lord has likened to a comely and215 delicate woman, finally apostatized from the pure principles of the gospel, and played the harlot by leaning for support on the arm of the civil power, thus turning her back on Christ, her legitimate husband. And as the result of this unholy alliance, this rejection of divine light, she brought upon herself that unprecedented reign of spiritual darkness known as the Dark Ages. During this period the “Holy Catholic Church” put to death, in the name of Christ, over fifty million of the saints of God. What a picture! It drew from the pen of inspiration this graphic symbolic description: “And I saw a woman [church] sit upon a scarlet-colored beast [civil power]. . . . And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet color, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication [unholy alliance with civil power]; and upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH. And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus.” Oh, what a picture! Christianity, where art thou? Spirit of the Mighty One, hast thou left this dark world in despair? No, for out of that moral darkness, guided by the Hand divine, rose the morning star of the Reformation. Throwing off the galling yoke of papal bondage, and asserting in no uncertain tones their God-given right of religious liberty, Luther and his followers rallied round the torn and shattered banner of Prince Immanuel, and launched on its career the ship of Protestantism. Tossed and beaten by the fierce tempests of religious tyranny, she sought and found a haven of rest in young America, where for over one hundred years she has enjoyed a peaceful anchorage, protected by the American Constitution, which guaranteed to all that civil and religious liberty so dear to every American heart. Here was found a State without a king, and a church without a pope, each separate from the other, and following its own legitimate line of duty, which is defined by the first amendment to the Constitution thus, “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” Washington struck the keynote of American liberty when he said, “Every man who conducts himself as a good citizen is accountable alone to God for his religious faith, and should be protected in worshiping God according to the dictates of his own conscience.” And U. S. Grant said: “Leave the matter of religion to the family altar, the church, and the private school, supported entirely by private contribution. Keep the State and Church forever separate.” The founders of our government, knowing the evil fruit resulting from a union between the Church and the State, laid the principles of civil and religious liberty deep and strong in the fundamental law of the land. And, thus protected, America has risen to a greater degree of prominence in a shorter space of time than any other nation under the sun. THE RIGHTEOUSNESS REVEALED IN THE GOSPEL.
By Mrs. J. M. Barrett
THE law of God is the transcript of his righteousness (Ps. 119: 172); but the true revelation to man of God's righteousness is in the character of his Son (1 Tim. 3: 16) and the gospel of his grace (Rom. 1: 17). Christ came to earth to reveal his Father's character and to restore fallen man to the image of his Creator. From Romans 1 to 8 Paul holds up the law of God as that which clearly defines and points out sin: "For by the law is the knowledge of sin" (Rom. 3: 20), and "sin is the transgression of the law" (1 John 3: 4). But for the law of God we would not know sin. Rom. 7: 7. But the law cannot reveal to fallen man God's righteousness. God's righteousness is an everlasting righteousness, and cannot be abolished. Ps. 119: 142; Isa. 51: 6. God must be true, and he judges the world by his law. Rom. 3: 4, 6, 19. "All have sinned and come short of the glory [character, see Ex. 33: 18, 19] of God" (Rom. 3: 23); therefore we must be justified, if at all, without the works of the law. For8this purpose God has sent forth his Son to be the propitiation for our sins and to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past. Rom. 3: 25. God created man upright and with a holy character like his own. Eccl. 7: 29; Gen. 1: 27. To be true and just to himself, God must require of man conformity to the image in which he was created. "For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God [did by] sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh; that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit." Rom. 8: 3, 4. The righteousness which the law requires is perfect, and it must date from birth to death. But, alas! no man can meet its just requirements, nor free us from its claims. By contrast it reveals to us the law of sin in our members (Rom. 7: 23); and sin, now taking advantage of our knowledge, works in us death by that which is good (Rom. 7: 11, 13). A law that is holy and just and good can only condemn us to death. We have no power to break the fetters of sin that enslave us. We can only deplore our wretchedness and cry out, "Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" But when we realize our helpless condition, then deliverance is at hand. We can thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord. Help is laid on One that is mighty to save. He fulfilled the law in our behalf; he knew no sin. 2 Cor. 5: 21. We may have his righteousness imputed to us through faith in his blood. But Christ does not leave us there. Oh, wondrous mercy and love of God revealed to us in Jesus Christ our Lord! He does not save us in our sins, but from our sins (Matt. 1: 21), for Christ is not the minister of sin (Gal. 2: 17). When Christ is received into the heart by faith, he eradicates sin, and the righteousness of God is revealed in the life. He not only walks with us, but dwells in us. Eph. 3: 17. He is the "Author and Finisher of our faith." Heb. 12: 2. But we must become dead indeed unto sin and alive unto God, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Rom. 6: 11. Our members must be yielded as instruments of righteousness unto God, who will work in us both to will and to do of his good pleasure. Phil. 2: 13. The old man must die and be buried with Christ in baptism, that the new man may come forth to walk in the newness of life after the image of Him that created him. Col. 3: 10. As Jesus has been received into the heart by faith, so he must be retained in the heart by faith; for "the just shall live by faith." Rom. 1: 17. "And the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me." Gal. 2: 20. "There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus. . . . For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death." Rom. 8: 1, 2. It is the life, the righteousness, of Christ Jesus that frees us from condemnation. The law which once condemned us now witnesses to Christ's righteousness. So when Christ's life is revealed in us, "we may have boldness in the day of judgment." 1 John 4: 17. It is no longer self that is seen, but Christ walking in perfect obedience to the Father's law; and the freed sinner may now exclaim, "I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." Gal. 2: 20. "Where is boasting then? It is excluded. By what law? of works? Nay; but by the law of faith." Rom. 3: 27. Dear reader, are you offering to God something contrary to his righteousness? If so, it is the carnal mind. Rom. 8: 7. The righteousness of God, as revealed in Christ, alone will stand the test of the judgment. Christ will not only forgive your past sins, but he is able to keep you until that great day. 2 Tim. 1: 12. "The heart of man is as passive in its first reception of God's image in regeneration as the canvas upon which a painter lays on his colors; nor is it more able to resist the operation of the agent." THE bird that soars on highest wing
Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
And she that doth most sweetly sing
Sings in the shade when all things rest;
In lark and nightingale we see
What honor hath humility. When Mary chose the better part,
She meekly sat at Jesus' feet;
And Lydia's gently-opened heart
Was made for God's own temple meet;
Fairest and best adorned is she
Whose clothing is humility. The saint that wears heaven's brightest crown
In deepest adoration bends;
The weight of glory bows him down
The most when most his soul ascends;
Nearest the throne itself must be
The footstool of humility.
—Selected. THE MINISTER'S DREAM.
By Junius
I sat down in an armchair, wearied with my work. My toil had been severe and protracted. Many were seeking the salvation of their souls, and many had found what they sought. The church wore an aspect of thrift and prosperity; and joy and hope and courage were the prevailing sentiments on every hand. As for myself, I was joyous in my work; my brethren were united; my sermons and exhortations were evidently telling on my hearers; my church was crowded with listeners. The whole community was more or less moved with the prevailing excitement; and, as the work went on, I had been led into exhausting labors for its promotion. Tired with my work, I soon lost myself in a sort of half-forgetful state, though I seemed fully aware of my place and surroundings. Suddenly a Stranger entered the room, without any preliminary "tap," or "Come in." I saw in his face benignity, intelligence, and weight of character; but, though he was passably well attired, he carried suspended about his person measures and chemical agents and implements, which gave him a very strange appearance. The Stranger came toward me, and, extending his hand, said, "How is your zeal?" I supposed, when he began his question, that the query was to be for my health, but was pleased to hear his final word, for I was quite well pleased with my zeal, and doubted not the stranger would smile when he should know its proportions. Instantly I conceived of it as physical quantity, and, putting my hand in my bosom, brought it forth and presented it to him for inspection. He took it, and, placing it in a scale, weighed it carefully. I heard him say, "One hundred pounds!" I could scarce suppress an audible note of satisfaction, but, by his earnest look as he noted down the weight, I saw at once that he had drawn no final conclusion, but was intent on pushing the investigation. He broke the mass to atoms, put it into his crucible, and put the crucible in the fire. When the mass was thoroughly fused, he took it out, and set it down to cool. It congealed in cooling, and when turned out on the earth, exhibited a series of layers or strata, all of which, at the touch of the hammer, fell apart, and were severely tested and weighed, the Stranger making minute notes as the process went on. When he had finished, he presented the notes to me, giving me a look of mingled sorrow and compassion, as, without a word except, "May God save you!" he left the room. I opened the "notes" and read as follows: Analysis of the Zeal of Junius, a Candidate for a Crown of Glory. |
|
|---|
| Weighed in a mass, |
100 lbs. |
| Of this, on analysis, there proves to be:— |
|
| Bigotry, |
10 parts. |
| Personal ambition, |
23 parts. |
| Love of praise, |
19 parts. |
| Pride of demonstration, |
15 parts. |
| Pride of talent, |
14 parts. |
| Love of authority, |
12 parts. |
| Love to God } Pure zeal, |
{ 4 parts. |
| Love to man } |
{ 3-100 parts. |
I had become troubled at the peculiar manner of the Stranger, and especially at his parting look and words, but when I looked at the figures, my heart sank as lead within me. I made a mental effort to dispute the correctness of the record. But I was suddenly startled into a more honest mood by an audible sigh, almost a groan, from the Stranger, who had paused in the hall, and by a sudden darkness falling upon me, by which the record became at once obscured and nearly illegible. I suddenly cried out, "Lord, save me!" and knelt down at my chair, with the paper in my hand, and my eyes fixed upon it. At once it became a mirror, and I saw my heart reflected in it. The record was true! I saw it, I felt it, I confessed it, and besought God, with many tears, to save me from myself; and at length, with an irrepressible cry of anguish, I awoke. I had prayed in years gone by to be saved from hell, but my prayer to be saved from myself now was immeasurably more fervent and distressful; nor did I rest or pause until the refining fire came down and went through my heart, searching, probing, melting, burning, filling all its chambers with light, and hallowing my whole heart to God. That day was the crisis of my history; and, if there shall prove to have been, in later years, some depth and earnestness in my convictions, and some searching and saving pungency in my words, I doubt not eternity will show their connection with the visit of this Searcher of Hearts, at whose coming I was weighed in a balance and found wanting.—British Evangelist. At a time of great danger Napoleon once gave an order to the pickets stationed at the outposts of his camp not to allow anything to pass them. The long, dark hours of the night wore slowly away, and the faithful sentinels kept close watch for the appearance of an enemy, when, just before daylight, a large dog was seen approaching one of the guard. The animal was ordered back, but, with every demonstration of affection, he persisted in passing the forbidden boundary. True to his trust, the soldier raised his gun and fired, and the poor creature fell dead. The report of the shot echoed along the lines, and the camp was awake in an instant to meet the impending danger. But when it was found to be only a dog, and the missing dog of one of the officers, do you think that faithful sentinel regretted obeying his order?—No, indeed; and when a dead spy was found nicely concealed beneath the skin of the animal, he was doubly thankful that he did his duty. So it may be hard to withstand the temptations that approach in friendly guise but conceal deadly foes; but the only safe way is to meet them with the same firm and unwavering principle which prompted Napoleon's sentinel to do his duty.—Selected. Some people are always resolving to do good who never go and do it. Possibly Miss Heatherly would not have admitted that she was wealthy, but certainly she would not have denied that she was "very comfortably off." She was considered a model of charity—one of those whose religion is "pure and undefiled." In the depths of her heart she thought so, too. She had known sorrow, and borne it well. She was sometimes lonely, yet never complained. She was invariably kind both to friends and dependents. The spiritual welfare of her servants was never neglected by her. Her public religious duties were faithfully fulfilled. She had been reading the last part of the twenty-fifth chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel, with a pleasant remembrance of the gifts of food and clothing she had that morning been distributing. Her heart thrilled with the sweetness of the thought that one day she should hear those blessed words addressed to herself,—"Inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it unto me." She looked round her room with a glow of satisfaction, appreciating her pretty things all the more because of the poverty and misery she had so lately witnessed. Perhaps Miss Heatherly had slept for two hours when she awoke with a start, for it seemed to her that somebody called her by name. She sat up in bed, surprised to see the room full of soft light, like moonlight, and, to her wonder and awe, a figure, clothed in white robes and crowned with thorns, standing in the midst—a figure so familiar to her thoughts, beautiful, majestic, and serene—the Lord she loved, the Lord who died for her. Miss Heatherly had often pictured to herself the first meeting with her Saviour. She had imagined that she would fall at his feet and kiss them in a transport of joy and rapture. She had imagined that he would smile approvingly on her, that he would raise her from the ground, and place her—who had given him so much, and served him so faithfully—close by his side in some position of honor. But now an overwhelming sense of sin and shortcoming made her cover her face with her hands when she met his grave, loving regard, while the self-abhorring cry of Peter rose involuntarily to her lips—"Depart from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful creature!" As if in answer to that cry, he spoke,—"Arise, follow me." The words were gently yet authoritatively spoken, and the trembling woman did not dream of disobeying or even questioning them. She rose from her bed, followed the luminous figure down the wide, velvet carpeted stairs, into the cold and empty street. In a few moments, as it seemed, they had left behind the wealthy suburb, and were in the center of the poorest quarter of the town. Miss Heatherly's Guide stopped at the door of a wretched, tumble-down house in a narrow alley. In spite of the fear and awe that possessed her, she noticed a drunken man, who, with many uncouth sounds and gestures, was barring the entrance against fancied intruders. As the two approached, he shrank back, cowering against the wall, covering his face with his hands—very much as Miss Heatherly had done. The alley and the house were alike familiar to the lady, so was the low, ruinous-looking attic, wherein she presently stood with her dread companion. She had been there that very morning to take a blanket for the poor, rheumatic old man who rented the miserable place. A sense of satisfaction stole into her mind as she remembered that gift and the grateful pleasure of the recipient. Why had she been afraid? Surely the Lord was about to commend her for her charity. The attic was very dark, but the radiance emanating from the figure of the Saviour fell full upon the pallet where the old man lay. It was bitterly cold. The broken window was stuffed with rags, but the wind and sleet, which had seemed to Miss Heatherly to cease when she was in the street, found only too free an entrance. The grate was empty, so was the cupboard. Cold and hungry the man had gone to bed, and, in spite of the blanket, he was evidently cold still. Obeying a motion of her Guide, Miss Heatherly approached the pallet. It consisted of a very old, torn, straw mattress, with the occupant's coat for pillow. "O my old bones! my poor, old, aching bones!" he muttered, shivering audibly; "'tis a bonnie bit o' blanket, and a rare kind thing of a lady like that to bring it to the likes o' me, but I thought as how blankets was warmer, surelie I did. Why, three on 'em would hardly keep my old bones warm. Eh, good Lord, if I could get a bit o' warmth into me, I'd not feel the hunger so much, maybe!" Before Miss Heatherly's eyes came a swift vision of her own luxurious room and bed. She felt the thick, soft warmth of the blankets—three of them, and the best that money could buy—the silken coverlet, the cozy eiderdown quilt. Then she saw again the poor pallet, covered with only the one thin, cheap blanket her charity had given to her brother's bitter need—saw and trembled. "Thou hast done it unto me!" her Guide said, not reproachfully, only sadly. Then he laid his hand on the old man's head, and his restless mutterings ceased. He had fallen asleep, and in his sleep he smiled. It was dawn when the two unseen visitors reissued into the street—cold, dark, winter dawn. The sleet had frozen on the pavement; the falling snow was blown into drifts by the piercing wind. This time Miss Heatherly was conscious of the cold—it went through and through; never had she experienced such a sensation before in all her warm, guarded life. She would fain have crept closer to her Guide, whose viewless presence brightened many a worn, sad face as he passed by, but she dared not. Her heart was breaking with a passion of love, longing, and remorse. How little, she thought, had she loved him before! How faithlessly she had served him! The praises of her bounty that she had heard, together with many others she had been wont to receive with outward deprecation and inward pride, were as so many wounds to her spirit. She to be praised for her charity? She? She dashed the hot tears from her eyes as the Conductor paused before a doorstep, where sat a small, puny child, holding a yet smaller, punier child in her arms. "I'm cold, Janie! I'm so cold!" wailed the latter over and over again in a kind of a monotonous chant. "I'm so cold!" "Oh, not cold, Bessie dear—not cold in them nice new clothes wot the lady give yer? Why, yer'd only rags afore!" "I am cold, I am!" insisted Bessie, "and you're cold, too, 'cause I feel yer ashivering." "Shivering? Not me! Why, I've a shawl on," trying ineffectually to draw the small knitted square that covered her shoulders further onto her blue arms. "I'm a bit tired, mebbe, 'cause yer 'eavy, Bess, but we ain't cold, you and me." "Oh, I am, I am! And so are you, Janie; you're ashivering wuss and wuss. The rags was warmer than these 'ere frocks." "Nay, now, Bess," said brave Janie, rising and preparing to carry her big baby again, "to talk o' rags, and you and me dressed like ladies! Oh, for shame on yer!" "Ladies! Miss 'Eatherly ain't dressed like this!" quoth Bessie, with contempt. "She's warm anuff, covered with fur like a pussy cat, and a big muff and a welwet gownd—" "I'll tell yer what, Bess, let's play at being grand ladies, and let's pretend we're very warm, and not a bit 'ungry; that'll be a jolly game. Then we'll go back 'ome, and mebbe father'll have got in by then, and'll be asleep, and mother'll find us a bit o' bread." Fain, fain would the conscience-stricken listener have shut out the sight that—as the child ceased speaking—rose before her. There were her ample wardrobes, her closets, and some yet unpacked boxes, full of the costliest mantles and dresses. Silks, satins, velvets, laces, and furs all were there. In themselves they represented a small fortune. For the first time in her life the wearer sickened of them, turning away in almost despair to the spectacle of the two children whom her charity had clothed. How thin, how poor, how ugly were the garments she had bestowed upon them! Well might their little limbs be cold. Well might Bessie disdain the notion of their being "dressed like ladies." And again, with solemn emphasis, the Lord spoke:—
"Thou hast done it unto me."218 Then he laid his pierced hand on the childish heads, and blessed them. As he did so, a city missionary came up to the two, who had begun to laugh and play merrily, and took them off with him to "give them some breakfast"—half wondering at the sudden glow of pleasure that filled his own heart. It was no rare thing for him to give away half his breakfast, or the whole of it, indeed, to some starving fellow-creature. Quick as thought the scene changed, and Miss Heatherly found herself in her own house. Her Guide was still with her. From room to room she followed him, compelled to note every useless or costly article, and seemed at the same time to see a dark background of rainy streets, of fireless attics, of bare rooms and wretched cellars, wherein the Lord himself wandered homeless, lay in sickness, suffered hunger, calling for help—in vain. It was like a sword in her heart when that accusing voice spoke for the last time:—
"I gave thee all, and what hast thou given me in return? Thou hast spread a rich feast for thyself, and given me the cold remnants. Thou hast glorified self, and not thy Saviour. Lookest thou for reward? Yea, thou shalt have it. A day is coming when thou shalt indeed hear the longed-for words which thou never thoughtest might condemn. Inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, thou hast done it unto me." With an exceeding bitter cry the remorseful woman fell upon her knees, catching wildly at the Lord's white robes as he was about to turn away.
"Oh, don't go! Oh, don't leave me in displeasure! Give me one more chance," she cried, her tears bathing his feet. "O Lord, I have lived for self; I see it, I feel it now! But thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee." Her voice broke in a choking sob, but still she gazed up in an agony of entreaty at the divine face, which, as she gazed, softened into a smile of such sweet forgiveness, such tender love, that it flooded her inmost soul with the very light of heaven. No words were needed; Lucy Heatherly knew herself forgiven—as only the crucified Jesus forgives—"all that debt." Then, clasping her hands while still kneeling at his feet, she mutely offered to him her wealth, her time, her life, her all—without one reserve—and besought him of his mercy to accept the gift. Once more he smiled, and in the glory of that ineffable sunshine Miss Heatherly awoke. Behold, it was a dream!—Quiver. ANSWERED PRAYER.
By Myra Goodwin Plantz
I asked for bread—God gave a stone instead;
Yet, while I pillowed there my weary head,
The angels made a ladder of my dreams,
Which upward to celestial mountains led.
And when I woke, beneath the morning's beams,
Around my resting place fresh manna lay;
And, praising God, I went upon my way—
For I was fed. I asked for strength—for with the noontide heat
I fainted; while the reapers, singing sweet,
Went forward with ripe sheaves I could not bear.
Then came the Master, with his blood-stained feet,
And lifted me with sympathetic care.
Then on his arm I leaned till all was done;
And I stood with the rest at set of sun—
My task complete. I asked for light—around me closed the night,
Nor guiding star met my bewildered sight,
For storm clouds gathered in a tempest near,
Yet in the lightning's blazing, roaring flight,
I saw the way before me straight and clear;
What though his leading pillar was of fire,
And not the sunbeam of my heart's desire—
My path was bright. God answers prayer. Sometimes, when hearts are weak,
He gives the very gifts believers seek.
But often faith must learn a deeper rest,
And trust God's silence when he does not speak;
For he, whose name is Love, will send the best.
Stars may burn out, nor mountain walls endure,
But God is true; his promises are sure
To those who seek.