Annals of the Poor Page 6

  PART VI.

  Travellers, as they pass through the country, usually stop to inquirewhose are the splendid mansions which they discover among the woods andplains around them. The families, titles, fortune, or character of therespective owners, engage much attention. Perhaps their houses areexhibited to the admiring stranger. The elegant rooms, costly furniture,valuable paintings, beautiful gardens and shrubberies, are universallyapproved; while the rank, fashion, taste, and riches of the possessor,afford ample materials for entertaining discussion. In the meantime, thelowly cottage of the poor husbandman is passed by as scarcely deservingof notice. Yet, perchance, such a cottage may often contain a treasureof infinitely more value than the sumptuous palace of the rich man--even"the pearl of great price." If this be set in the heart of the poorcottager, it proves a gem of unspeakable worth, and will shine among thebrightest ornaments of the Redeemer's crown, in that day when he makethup his "jewels."

  Hence the Christian traveller, while in common with others he bestows hisdue share of applause on the decorations of the rich, and is notinsensible to the beauties and magnificence which are the lawfullyallowed appendages of rank and fortune, cannot overlook the humblerdwelling of the poor. And if he should find that true piety and gracebeneath the thatched roof which he has in vain looked for amidst theworldly grandeur of the rich, he remembers the declarations in the wordof God. He sees with admiration that the high and lofty One, thatinhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy, who dwelleth in the high andholy place, dwelleth with _him also_ that is of a contrite and humblespirit (Isa. lvii. 15); and although heaven is his throne, and the earthhis footstool, yet, when a house is to be built and a place of rest to besought for himself, he says, "To this man will I look, even to him thatis poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word" (Isa. lxvi.2).

  When a house is thus tenanted, Faith beholds this inscription written onthe walls, _The Lord lives here_. Faith, therefore, cannot pass it byunnoticed, but loves to lift up the latch of the door, and to sit downand converse with the poor, although perhaps despised, inhabitant. Manya sweet interview does Faith obtain, when she thus takes her walksabroad. Many such a sweet interview have I myself enjoyed beneath theroof where dwelt the Dairyman and his little family.

  I soon perceived that his daughter's health was rapidly on the decline.The pale, wasting consumption, which is the Lord's instrument forremoving so many thousands every year from the land of the living madehasty strides on her constitution. The hollow eye, the distressingcough, and the often too flattering flush on the cheek, foretold theapproach of death.

  What a field for usefulness and affectionate attention, on the part ofministers and Christian friends, is opened by the frequent attacks andlingering process of _consumptive_ illness! How many such preciousopportunities are daily lost, where Providence seems in so marked a wayto afford time and space for serious and godly instruction! Of how manymay it be said, "The way of peace have they not known!" for not onefriend ever came nigh, to warn them to "flee from the wrath to come."

  But the Dairyman's daughter was happily made acquainted with the thingswhich belonged to her everlasting peace, before the present disease hadtaken root in her constitution. In my visits to her, I went rather toreceive information than to impart it. Her mind was abundantly storedwith divine truths, and her conversation was truly edifying. Therecollection of it will ever produce a thankful sensation in my heart.

  I one day received a short note to the following effect:--

  "DEAR SIR,

  "I should be very glad, if your convenience will allow, that you will come and see a poor unworthy sinner. My hour-glass is nearly run out, but I hope I can see Christ to be precious to my soul. Your conversation has often been blessed to me, and I now feel the need of it more than ever. My father and mother send their duty to you. From

  "Your obedient and unworthy servant,

  "E--- W---."

  I obeyed the summons that same afternoon. On my arrival at theDairyman's cottage, his wife opened the door. The tears streamed downher cheek, as she silently shook her head. Her heart was full. Shetried to speak, but could not. I took her by the hand, and said--

  "My good friend, all is right, and as the Lord of wisdom and mercydirects."

  "Oh, my Betsy, my dear girl, is so bad, sir. What shall I do withouther? I thought I should have gone first to the grave; but--"

  "But the Lord sees good that, before you die yourself you should beholdyour child safe home to glory. Is there no mercy in this?"

  "Oh, dear sir! I am very old and very weak; and she is a dear child, thestaff and prop of a poor old creature as I am."

  As I advanced, I saw Elizabeth sitting by the fireside, supported in anarm-chair by pillows, with every mark of rapid decline and approachingdeath. A sweet smile of friendly complacency enlightened her palecountenance, as she said--

  "This is very kind indeed, sir, to come so soon after I sent to you. Youfind me daily wasting away, and I cannot have long to continue here. Myflesh and my heart fail; but God is the strength of my weak heart, and Itrust will be my portion for ever."

  The conversation was occasionally interrupted by her cough and want ofbreath. Her tone of voice was clear, though feeble; her manner solemnand collected; and her eye, though more dim than formerly, by no meanswanting in liveliness as she spoke. I had frequently admired thesuperior language in which she expressed her ideas, as well as thescriptural consistency with which she communicated her thoughts. She hada good natural understanding, and grace, as is generally the case, hadmuch improved it. On the present occasion I could not help thinking shewas peculiarly favoured. The whole strength of gracious and naturalattainments seemed to be in full exercise.

  After taking my seat between the daughter and the mother (the latterfixing her fond eyes upon her child with great anxiety while we wereconversing), I said to Elizabeth--

  "I hope you enjoy a sense of the divine presence, and can rest all uponHim who has 'been with thee,' and has 'kept thee in all places where thouhast gone,' and will bring thee into 'the land of pure delight, wheresaints immortal reign.'"

  "Sir, I think I can. My mind has lately been sometimes clouded, but Ibelieve it has been partly owing to the great weakness and suffering ofmy bodily frame, and partly to the envy of my spiritual enemy, who wantsto persuade me that Christ has no love for me, and that I have been aself-deceiver."

  "And do you give way to his suggestions? Can you doubt, amidst suchnumerous tokens of past and present mercy?"

  "No, sir, I mostly am enabled to preserve a clear evidence of his love. Ido not wish to add to my other sins that of denying his manifest goodnessto my soul--I would acknowledge it to his praise and glory."

  "What is your present view of the state in which you were before you feltseriously concerned about the salvation of your soul?"

  "Sir, I was a proud, thoughtless girl; fond of dress and finery. I lovedthe world, and the things that are in the world. I lived in serviceamong worldly people, and never had the happiness of being in a familywhere worship was regarded, and the souls of the servants cared for,either by master or mistress. I went once on a Sunday to church, more tosee and be seen than to pray or hear the word of God. I thought I wasquite good enough to be saved, and disliked, and often laughed at,religious people. I was in great darkness; I knew nothing of the way ofsalvation. I never prayed, nor was sensible of the awful danger of aprayerless state. I wished to maintain the character of a good servant,and was much lifted up whenever I met with applause. I was tolerablymoral and decent in my conduct, from motives of carnal and worldlypolicy; but I was a stranger to God and Christ. I neglected my soul; andhad I died in such a state, hell must, and would justly, have been myportion."

  "How long is it since you heard the sermon which, you hope, through God'sblessing, effected your conversion?"

  "About five years ago."

  "How was it brought about?"

  "It was report
ed that a Mr. ---, who was detained by contrary winds fromembarking on board ship as chaplain to a distant part of the world, wasto preach at church. Many advised me not to go, for fear he should turnmy head, as they said he held strange notions. But curiosity, and anopportunity of appearing in a new gown, which I was very proud of,induced me to ask leave of my mistress to go. Indeed, sir, I had nobetter motives than vanity and curiosity. Yet thus it pleased the Lordto order it for his own glory.

  "I accordingly went to church, and saw a great crowd of people collectedtogether. I often think of the contrary states of my mind during theformer and latter part of the service. For a while, regardless of theworship of God, I looked around me, and was anxious to attract noticemyself. My dress, like that of too many gay, vain, and silly servantgirls, was much above my station, and very different from that whichbecomes an humble sinner, who has a modest sense of propriety anddecency. The state of my mind was visible enough from the foolish fineryof my apparel.

  "At length the clergyman gave out his text: 'Be ye clothed withhumility.' He drew a comparison between the clothing of the body withthat of the soul. At a very early part of his discourse I began to feelashamed of my passion for fine dressing and apparel; but when he came todescribe the garment of salvation with which a Christian is clothed, Ifelt a powerful discovery of the nakedness of my own soul. I saw that Ihad neither the humility mentioned in the text, nor any one part of thetrue Christian character. I looked at my gay dress, and blushed forshame on account of my pride. I looked at the minister, and he seemed tome as a messenger sent from heaven to open my eyes. I looked at thecongregation, and wondered whether any one else felt as I did. I lookedat my heart, and it appeared full of iniquity. I trembled as he spoke,and yet I felt a great drawing of heart to the words he uttered.

  "He opened the riches of divine grace in God's method of saving thesinner. I was astonished at what I had been doing all the days of mylife. He described the meek, lowly, and humble example of Christ; I feltproud, lofty, vain, and self-consequential. He represented Christ as'Wisdom;' I felt my ignorance. He held him forth as 'Righteousness;' Iwas convinced of my own guilt. He proved him to be 'Sanctification;' Isaw my corruption. He proclaimed him as 'Redemption;' I felt my slaveryto sin and my captivity to Satan. He concluded with an animated addressto sinners, in which he exhorted them to flee from the wrath to come, tocast off the love of outward ornament, to put on Jesus Christ, and beclothed with true humility.

  "From that hour I never lost sight of the value of my soul and the dangerof a sinful state. I inwardly blessed God for the sermon, although mymind was in a state of great confusion.

  "The preacher had brought forward the ruling passion of my heart, whichwas pride in outward dress; and by the grace of God it was madeinstrumental to the awakening of my soul. Happy, sir, would it be ifmany a poor girl, like myself, were turned from the love of outwardadorning and putting on of fine apparel, to seek that which is notcorruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is inthe sight of God of great price.

  "The greatest part of the congregation, unused to such faithful andscriptural sermons, disliked and complained of the severity of thepreacher; while a few, as I afterwards found, like myself, were deeplyaffected, and earnestly wished to hear him again. But he preached thereno more.

  "From that time I was led, through a course of private prayer, reading,and meditation, to see my lost state as a sinner, and the great mercy ofGod through Jesus Christ, in raising sinful dust and ashes to a share inthe glorious happiness of heaven. And, O sir! what a Saviour I havefound! He is more than I could ask or desire. In his fulness I havefound all that my poverty could need; in his bosom I have found a resting-place from all sin and sorrow; in his word I have found strength againstdoubt and unbelief."

  "Were you not soon convinced," I said, "that your salvation must be anact of entire grace on the part of God, wholly independent of your ownprevious works or deservings?"

  "Dear sir, what were my works, before I heard that sermon, but evil,carnal, selfish, and ungodly! The thoughts of my heart, from my youthupward, were only evil, and that continually. And my deservings, whatwere they, but the deservings of a fallen, depraved, careless soul, thatregarded neither law nor gospel! Yes, sir, I immediately saw that ifever I were saved, it must be by the free mercy of God, and that thewhole praise and honour of the work would be his from first to last."

  "What change did you perceive in yourself with respect to the world?"

  "It appeared all vanity and vexation of spirit. I found it necessary tomy peace of mind to come out from among them, and be separate. I gavemyself to prayer; and many a happy hour of secret delight I enjoyed incommunion with God. Often I mourned over my sins, and sometimes had agreat conflict, through unbelief, fear, temptation to return back againto my old ways, and a variety of difficulties which lay in my way. ButHe who loved me with an everlasting love drew me by his loving-kindness,showed me the way of peace, gradually strengthened me in my resolutionsof leading a new life, and taught me, that while without him I could donothing, I yet might do all things through his strength."

  "Did you not find many difficulties in your situation, owing to yourchange of principle and practice?"

  "Yes, sir, every day of my life. I was laughed at by some, scolded at byothers, scorned by enemies, and pitied by friends. I was calledhypocrite, saint, false deceiver, and many more names, which were meantto render me hateful in the sight of the world. But I esteemed thereproach of the cross an honour. I forgave and prayed for mypersecutors, and remembered how very lately I had acted the same parttowards others myself. I thought also that Christ endured thecontradiction of sinners; and, as the disciple is not above his Master, Iwas glad to be in any way conformed to his sufferings."

  "Did you not then feel for your family at home?"

  "Yes, that I did indeed, sir; they were never out of my thoughts. Iprayed continually for them, and had a longing desire to do them good. Inparticular, I felt for my father and mother, as they were getting intoyears, and were very ignorant and dark in matters of religion."

  "Ay," interrupted her mother, sobbing, "ignorant and dark, sinful andmiserable we were, till this dear Betsy--this dear Betsy--this dearchild, sir--brought Christ Jesus home to her poor father and mother'shouse."

  "No, dearest mother, say rather, Christ Jesus brought your poor daughterhome to tell you what he had done for her soul, and I hope, to do thesame for yours."

  At that moment the Dairyman came in with two pails of milk hanging fromthe yoke on his shoulders. He had stood behind the half-opened door fora few minutes, and heard the last sentences spoken by his wife anddaughter.

  "Blessing and mercy upon her!" said he, "it is very true; she left a goodplace of service on purpose to live with us, that she might help us bothin soul and body. Sir, don't she look very ill? I think, sir, wesha'n't have her here long."

  "Leave that to the Lord," said Elizabeth. "All our times are in hishand, and happy it is that they are. I am willing to go; are you notwilling, my father, to part with me into _his_ hands, who gave me to youat first?"

  "Ask me any question in the world but that," said the weeping father.

  "I know," said she, "you wish me to be happy."

  "I do, I do," answered he; "let the Lord do with you and us as bestpleases him."

  I then asked her on what her present consolations chiefly depended, inthe prospect of approaching death.

  "Entirely, sir, on my view of Christ. When I look at myself, many sins,infirmities, and imperfections cloud the image of Christ which I want tosee in my own heart. But when I look at the Saviour himself, he isaltogether lovely; there is not one spot in his countenance, nor onecloud over all his perfections.

  "I think of his coming in the flesh, and it reconciles me to thesufferings of the body; for he had them as well as I. I think of histemptations, and believe that he is able to succour me when I am tempted.Then I think of his cross, and learn to bear my
own. I reflect on hisdeath, and long to die unto sin, so that it may no longer have dominionover me. I sometimes think on his resurrection, and trust that he hasgiven me a part in it, for I feel that my affections are set upon thingsabove. Chiefly I take comfort in thinking of him as at the right hand ofthe Father, pleading my cause, and rendering acceptable even my feebleprayers, both for myself, and, as I hope, for my dear friends.

  "These are the views which, through mercy, I have of my Saviour'sgoodness; and they have made me wish and strive in my poor way to servehim, to give myself up to him, and to labour to do my duty in that stateof life into which it has pleased God to call me.

  "A thousand times I should have fallen and fainted, if he had not upheldme. I feel that I am nothing without him. He is all in all.

  "Just so far as I can cast my care upon him, I find strength to do hiswill. May he give me grace to trust him till the last moment! I do notfear death, because I believe that he has taken away its sting. And oh!what happiness beyond! Tell me, sir, whether you think I am right. Ihope I am under no delusion. I dare not look for my hope in anythingshort of the entire fulness of Christ. When I ask my own heart aquestion, I am afraid to trust it, for it is treacherous, and has oftendeceived me; but when I ask Christ, he answers me with promises thatstrengthen and refresh me, and leave me no room to doubt his power andwill to save. I am in his hands, and would remain there; and I dobelieve that he will never leave nor forsake me, but will perfect thething that concerns me. He loved me and gave himself for me, and Ibelieve that his gifts and callings are without repentance. In this hopeI live, in this hope I wish to die."

  I looked around me, as she was speaking, and thought, "Surely this isnone other than the house of God, and the gate of heaven." Everythingappeared neat, cleanly, and interesting. The afternoon had been ratherovercast with dark clouds; but just now the setting sun shone brightlyand somewhat suddenly into the room. It was reflected from three or fourrows of bright pewter plates and white earthenware, arranged on shelvesagainst the wall: it also gave brilliancy to a few prints of sacredsubjects that hung there also, and served for monitors of the birth,baptism, crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ.

  A large map of Jerusalem, and a hieroglyphic of "the old and new man,"completed the decorations on that side of the room. Clean as was thewhite-washed wall, it was not cleaner than the rest of the place and itsfurniture. Seldom had the sun enlightened a house where order andgeneral neatness (those sure attendants of pious poverty) were moreconspicuous.

  This gleam of setting sunshine was emblematical of the bright and sereneclose of this young Christian's departing season. One ray happened to bereflected from a little looking-glass upon her face. Amidst her pallidand decaying features there appeared a calm resignation, triumphantconfidence, unaffected humility, and tender anxiety, which fully declaredthe feelings of her heart.

  Some further affectionate conversation and a short prayer closed thisinterview.

  As I rode home by departing daylight, a solemn tranquillity reignedthroughout the scene. The gentle lowing of cattle, the bleating of sheepjust penned in their folds, the humming of the insects of the night, thedistant murmurs of the sea, the last notes of the birds of day, and thefirst warblings of the nightingale, broke upon the ear, and served ratherto increase than lessen the peaceful serenity of the evening, and itscorresponding effects on my own mind. It invited and cherished just suchmeditations as my visit had already inspired. Natural scenery, whenviewed in a Christian mirror, frequently affords very beautifulillustrations of divine truths. We are highly favoured when we can enjoythem, and at the same time draw near to God in them.