Annals of the Poor Page 12

  THE YOUNG COTTAGER.

  PART I.

  When a serious Christian turns his attention to the barren state of thewilderness through which he is travelling, frequently must he heave asigh for the sins and sorrows of his fellow-mortals. The renewed heartthirsts with holy desire that the Paradise which was lost through Adammay be fully regained in Christ. But the overflowings of sin within andwithout, the contempt of sacred institutions, the carelessness of soul,the pride of unbelief, the eagerness of sensual appetite, the ambitionfor worldly greatness, and the deep-rooted enmity of the carnal heartagainst God: these things are as "the fiery serpents, and scorpions, anddrought," which distress his soul, as he journeys through "that great andterrible wilderness."

  Sometimes, like a solitary pilgrim, he weeps in secret places, and riversof water run down his eyes, because men keep not the law of God.

  Occasionally he meets with a few fellow-travellers whose spirit iscongenial with his own, and with whom he can take "sweet counseltogether." They comfort and strengthen each other by the way. Each canrelate something of the mercies of his God, and how kindly they have beendealt with, as they travelled onwards. The dreariness of the path isthus beguiled, and now and then, for a while, happy experiences of thedivine consolation cheer their souls; "the wilderness and the solitaryplace are glad for them; the desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose."

  But even at the very time when the Christian is taught to feel the peaceof God which passeth all understanding, to trust that he is personallyinterested in the blessings of salvation, and to believe that God willpromote his own glory by glorifying the penitent sinner; yet sorrows willmingle with his comforts, and he will rejoice, not without trembling,when he reflects on the state of other men. The anxieties connected withearthly relations are all alive in his soul, and, through the operationof the Spirit of God, become sanctified principles and motives foraction. As the husband and father of a family; as the neighbour of thepoor, the ignorant, the wicked, and the wretched; above all, as thespiritual overseer of the flock, if such be his holy calling, the heartwhich has been taught to feel for its own case will abundantly feel forothers.

  But when he attempts to devise means in order to stem the torrent ofiniquity, to instruct the ignorant, and to convert the sinner from theerror of his way, he cannot help crying out, "Who is sufficient for thesethings?" Unbelief passes over the question, and trembles. But faithquickly revives the inquirer with the cheerful assurance that "oursufficiency is of God," and saith, "Commit thy way unto the Lord, and heshall bring it to pass."

  When he is thus affectionately engaged for the good of mankind, he willbecome seriously impressed with the necessity of early attentions to theyoung in particular. Many around him are grown gray-headed in sin, andgive but little prospect of amendment. Many of the parents and heads offamilies are so eagerly busied in the profits, pleasures, and occupationsof the world, that they heed not the warning voice of their instructor.Many of their elder children are launching out into life, headstrong,unruly, "earthly, sensual, devilish;" they likewise treat the wisdom ofGod as if it were foolishness. But, under these discouragements, we mayoften turn with hope to the very young, to the little ones of the flock,and endeavour to teach them to sing hosannas to the Son of David, beforetheir minds are wholly absorbed in the world and its allurements. We maytrust that a blessing shall attend such labours, if undertaken in faithand simplicity, and that some at least of our youthful disciples, likeJosiah, while they are yet young, may begin to seek after the God oftheir fathers.

  Such an employment, especially when blessed by any actual instances ofreal good produced, enlivens the mind with hope, and fills it withgratitude. We are thence led to trust that the next generation maybecome more fruitful unto God than the present, and the Church of Christbe replenished with many such as have been called into the vineyard"early in the morning." And should our endeavours for a length of timeapparently fail of success, yet we ought not to despair. Earlyimpressions and convictions of conscience have sometimes lain dormant foryears, and at last revived into gracious existence and maturity. It wasnot said in vain, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when heis old he will not depart from it."

  What a gratifying occupation it is to an affectionate mind, even in a wayof nature, to walk through the fields, and lead a little child by thehand, enjoying its infantine prattle, and striving to improve the time bysome kind word of instruction! I wish that every Christian pilgrim inthe way of grace, as he walks through the Lord's pastures, would try tolead at least one little child by the hand; and perhaps, whilst he isendeavouring to guide and preserve his young and feeble companion, theLord will recompense him double for all his cares by comforting his ownheart in the attempt. The experiment is worth the trial. It issupported by this recollection,--"The Lord will come with strong hand,and his arm shall rule for him; behold, his reward is with him, and hiswork before him. He shall feed his flock like a shepherd; he shallgather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and _shallgently lead those that are with young_."

  I shall plead no further apology for introducing to the notice of myreaders a few particulars relative to a young female cottager, whosememory is particularly endeared to me from the circumstance of her being,so far as I can trace or discover, my first-born spiritual child in theministry of the gospel. She was certainly the first, of whose conversionto God, under my own pastoral instruction, I can speak with precision andassurance.

  Every parent of a family knows that there is a very interesting emotionof heart connected with the birth of his first-born child. Energies andaffections, to which the mind has hitherto been almost a stranger, beginto unfold themselves and expand into active existence when he first ishailed as a father. But may not the spiritual father be allowed thepossession and indulgence of a similar sensation in his connection withthe children whom the Lord gives him, as begotten through the ministry ofthe word of life! If the first-born child in nature be received as a newand acceptable blessing, how much more so the first-born child in grace!I claim this privilege, and crave permission, in writing what follows, toerect a monumental record, sacred to the memory of a dear little child,who, I trust, will at the last day prove my crown of rejoicing.

  Jane S--- was the daughter of poor parents, in the village where itpleased God first to cast my lot in the ministry. My acquaintance withher commenced when she was twelve years of age by her weekly attendanceat my house amongst a number of children whom I invited and regularlyinstructed every Saturday afternoon.

  They used to read, repeat catechisms, psalms, hymns, and portions ofScripture. I accustomed them also to pass a kind of free conversationalexamination, according to their age and ability, in those subjects bywhich I hoped to see them made wise unto salvation.

  On the summer evenings I frequently used to assemble this little groupout of doors in my garden, sitting under the shade of some trees, whichprotected us from the heat of the sun; from hence a scene appeared, whichrendered my occupation the more interesting. For adjoining the spotwhere we sat, and only separated from us by a fence, was the churchyard,surrounded with beautiful prospects in every direction.

  There lay the mortal remains of thousands, who, from age to age, in theirdifferent generations, had been successively committed to thegrave,--"earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Here the oncefamed ancestors of the rich, and the less known forefathers of the poorlay mingling their dust together, and alike waiting the resurrection fromthe dead.

  I had not far to look for subjects of warning and exhortation suitable tomy little flock of lambs that I was feeding. I could point to theheaving sods that marked the different graves and separated them fromeach other, and tell my pupils that, young as they were, none of themwere too young to die; and that probably more than half of the bodieswhich were buried there were those of little children. I hence tookoccasion to speak of the nature and value of a soul, and to ask themwhere they expected their souls to go when they departe
d hence and wereno more seen on earth.

  I told them who was "the resurrection and the life," and who alone couldtake away the sting of death. I used to remind them that the hour was"coming in the which all that are in the graves shall hear His voice, andshall come forth: they that have done good, unto the resurrection oflife; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation."I often availed myself of these opportunities to call to theirrecollection the more recent deaths of their own relatives that layburied so near us. Some had lost a parent, others a brother or sister;some perhaps had lost all these, and were committed to the mercy of theirneighbours as fatherless or motherless orphans. Such circumstances wereoccasionally useful to excite tender emotions, favourable to seriousimpressions.

  Sometimes I sent the children to the various stones which stood at thehead of the graves, and bid them learn the epitaphs inscribed upon them.I took pleasure in seeing the little ones thus dispersed in thechurchyard, each committing to memory a few verses written incommemoration of the departed. They would soon accomplish the desiredobject, and eagerly return to me ambitious to repeat their task.

  Thus my churchyard became a book of instruction, and every grave-stone aleaf of edification for my young disciples.

  The church itself stood in the midst of the ground. It was a spaciousantique structure. Within those very walls I first proclaimed themessage of God to sinners. As these children surrounded me, I sometimespointed to the church, spoke to them of the nature of public worship, thevalue of the Sabbath, the duty of regular attendance on its services, andurged their serious attention to the means of grace. I showed them thesad state of many countries, where neither churches nor Bibles wereknown, and the no less melancholy condition of multitudes at home, whosinfully neglect worship and slight the word of God. I thus tried tomake them sensible of their own favours and privileges.

  Neither was I at a loss for another class of objects around me from whichI could draw useful instruction; for many of the beauties of creatednature appealed in view.

  Eastward of us extended a large river or lake of sea-water, chieflyformed by the tide, and nearly enclosed by land. Beyond this was a finebay and road for ships, filled with vessels of every size, from the smallsloop or cutter to the first-rate man-of-war. On the right hand of thehaven rose a hill of peculiarly beautiful form and considerable height.Its verdure was very rich, and many hundred sheep graced upon its sidesand summit. From the opposite shore of the same water a large slopingextent of bank was diversified with fields, woods, hedges, and cottages.At its extremity stood, close to the edge of the sea itself, the remainsof the tower of an ancient church, still preserved as a sea-mark. Farbeyond the bay, a very distant shore was observable, and land beyond it;trees, towns, and other buildings appeared, more especially when gildedby the reflected rays of the sun.

  To the south-westward of the garden was another down, covered also withflocks of sheep, and a portion of it fringed with trees. At the foot ofthis hill lay the village, a part of which gradually ascended to therising ground on which the church stood.

  From the intermixture of houses with gardens, orchards, and trees, itpresented a very pleasing aspect. Several fields adjoined the garden onthe east and north, where a number of cattle were pasturing. My ownlittle shrubberies and flower-beds variegated the view, and recompensedmy toil in rearing them, as well by their beauty as their fragrance.

  Had the sweet psalmist of Israel sat in this spot, he would haveglorified God the Creator by descanting on these his handiworks. Icannot write psalms like David, but I wish, in my own poor way, to praisethe Lord for his goodness, and to show forth his wonderful works to thechildren of men. But had David been also surrounded with a troop ofyoung scholars in such a situation, he would once more have said, "Out ofthe mouths of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength."

  I love to retrace these scenes; they are past, but the recollection issweet.

  I love to retrace them, for they bring to my mind many former mercies,which ought not, for the Lord's sake, to be forgotten.

  I love to retrace them, for they reassure me that, in the course of thatprivate ministerial occupation, God was pleased to give me so valuable afruit of my labours.

  Little Jane used constantly to appear on these weekly seasons ofinstruction. I made no very particular observations concerning herduring the first twelve months or more after her commencement ofattendance. She was not then remarkable for any peculiar attainment. Onthe whole, I used to think her rather more slow of apprehension than mostof her companions. She usually repeated her tasks correctly, but wasseldom able to make answers to questions for which she was not previouslyprepared with replies--a kind of extempore examination, in which some ofthe children excelled. Her countenance was not engaging; her eyediscovered no remarkable liveliness. She read tolerably well, tookpains, and improved in it.

  Mildness and quietness marked her general demeanour. She was veryconstant in her attendance on public worship at the church, as well as onmy Saturday instruction at home. But, generally speaking, she was littlenoticed, except for her regular and orderly conduct. Had I then beenasked of which of my young scholars I had formed the most favourableopinion, poor Jane might have been altogether omitted in the list.

  How little do we oftentimes know what God is doing in other people'shearts! What poor calculators and judges we frequently prove till heopens our eyes! His thoughts are not our thoughts; neither our ways hisways.

  Once, indeed, during the latter part of that year, I was struck with herready attention to my wishes. I had, agreeably to the plan abovementioned, sent her into the churchyard to commit to memory an epitaphwhich I admired. On her return she told me that, in addition to what Idesired, she had also learned another, which was inscribed on anadjoining stone, adding, that she thought it a very pretty one.

  I thought so too, and perhaps my readers will be of the same opinion.Little Jane, though dead, yet shall speak. While I transcribe the lines,I can powerfully imagine that I hear her voice repeating them. The ideais exceedingly gratifying to me.

  EPITAPH ON MRS. A. B.

  Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear That mourns a thy exit from a world like this; Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here, And stayed thy progress to the seats of bliss.

  No more confined to grovelling scenes of night, No more a tenant pent in mortal clay; Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight, And trace thy journey to the realms of day.

  The above was her appointed task; and the other, which she voluntarilylearned and spoke of with pleasure, is this:--

  EPITAPH ON THE STONE ADJOINING.

  It must be so--Our father Adam's fall, And disobedience, brought this lot on all. All die in him--But, hopeless should we be, Blest Revelation! were it not for thee. Hail, glorious Gospel! heavenly light, whereby We live with comfort, and with comfort die; And view, beyond this gloomy scene the tomb A life of endless happiness to come.

  I afterwards discovered that the sentiment expressed in the latterepitaph had much affected her, but at the period of this little incidentI knew nothing of her mind; I had comparatively overlooked her. I haveoften been sorry for it since. Conscience seemed to rebuke me when Iafterwards discovered what the Lord had been doing for her soul, as if Ihad neglected her, yet it was not done designedly. She was unknown to usall, except that, as I since found out, her regularity and abstinencefrom the sins and follies of her young equals in age and station broughtupon her many taunts and jeers from others, which she bore very meekly;but at that time I knew it not.

  I was young myself in the ministry, and younger in Christian experience.My parochial plans had not as yet assumed such a principle of practicalorder and inquiry as to make me acquainted with the character and conductof each family and individual in my flock.

  I was then quite a learner, and had much to learn.

  And what am I now? A learner still; and if I have learned anythi
ng, itis this, that I have every day more and more yet to learn. Of this I amcertain, that my young scholar soon became my teacher. I _first_ sawwhat true religion could accomplish in witnessing her experience of it.The Lord once "called a little child unto him, and set him in the midstof his disciples" as an emblem and an illustration of his doctrine. Butthe Lord did more in the case of little Jane. He not only called _her_as a child to show, by a similitude, what conversion means, but he alsocalled her by his grace to be a vessel of mercy, and a living witness ofthat almighty power and love by which her own heart was turned to God.