13. CHAPTER XIII.
RICHARD EXHORTS AT A RELIGIOUS MEETING.
One Sunday evening, Richard went, with Aunt Grint
and his sister, to Elder Jabson's meeting, in a neighboring
School-house.
A hymn was given out, the first stanza of which is as
follows:
“Am I a soldier of the Cross,
A follower of the Lamb,
And shall I fear to own his cause,
Or blush to speak his name?”
The chorister was gone, but Richard, knowing the tune,
and loving the words, led off; and he threw such life and
unction into the singing as never was seen before. It was as
if tutti had been written on his understanding and his spirit,
his lips and his eyes; and his throat was equal to any tuba
mirabilis that was ever invented.
A brother spoke in this wise:
“I feel to bless God that I am here. I think I have known
the Saviour; I was brought to see my wretched and lost
condition, it is now twelve years gone; it was in just such a
meeting as this I closed with the offers of mercy, and light
fell on my mind. But I have backslidden since; gay companions
and vain amusements drew off my attention; I know
I have not borne the cross as I should do; I ask your prayers.
At the last Reformation, I was enabled to come out from
the world, and set my face toward Zion anew. You know,
brethren, how it has gone with me since; the business of
this world got the upper hands, and speretual realities were
shoved one side. I feel to be thankful that my life is spared;
and I think I can say I rejoice in this evening.”
Richard, thereupon, spoke, and said:—
“We will pray for our brother; we will help him to a
confirmation of his wishes, and a renewal of his assurance.
But, my friends, is there not a radical defect here? Are
we building on the Rock of Ages? Is it possible that the
ordinary winds and floods of life could so easily subvert our
foundations? Our temptations and besetments, our hindrances
and cares, are as nothing compared with those to
which the primitive disciples were subject; yet they endured
unto the end. If one has pure and deep love to God and
to man in his heart, I should urge that he cannot lose
it. What is the world but a grand theatre for Christian
usefulness; and how can contact with the world deteriorate
our virtue, or diminish our zeal? If Christ be truly in us,
he is a well of water, springing up unto everlasting life; a
source of spiritual vitality, that can neither intermit nor
be exhausted. Are we not depending too much on mere
impulse and gladness, without grappling with the cardinal
principles of Christianity, and planting them low in our
natures, and working them into the frame-work of our
characters? Are the laws of the religious life more variable
than those which regulate every other human concern? A
peace-man does not lose his interest in peace, nor does an
anti-slavery-man backslide from abolition; a lawyer perseveres
in attachment to his profession; and what mother
present grows lukewarm towards her children?
“Are we careful of our bodies, even? Do we make them
fitting temples for so glorious a guest as the Holy Ghost?
When we approach the throne, do we come not only with
hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, but also, as the
Apostle directs, with bodies washed with pure water?
“Our brother has spoken of amusements. Recreation, in
the present state of being, is needful as food and clothing.
If we enter upon sportive scenes with right feelings, — if we
pursue what is innocent and joyous in the spirit of innocency
and joyousness, — if we derive what advantage is
afforded by a free and unreserved intercourse with our fellows,
we shall be better prepared for the graver duties and
severer events of life.”
The Elder here reminded Richard that this was a religious
meeting, and that he should not digress into other
topics.
Richard replied, that it was only of what had a supreme
religious bearing that he wished to speak, and continued:—
“The trouble seems to be that we get religious feeling
without acquiring evangelical principle. We amass the
hay, wood and stubble, of momentary enthusiasm, and have
not the true life of God in the soul. We look for sudden
changes, and have no maturity of growth. The dew of an
evening meeting is speedily exhaled, — the sun of gospel
love mounts to the perfection of the day. We cry, lo here!
and lo there! lo this meeting! and lo that church! while the
infinite gifts of Providence and of the ages, of nature and of
grace, are ever offered to our hands, ever pouring into our
hearts!
“Our religion is like a saw I have seen, which was respectable
on bass-wood, but birch or a knotty hemlock discovered
its weak points, and condemned its brittleness. It is a glow-worm
religion, that fails by day-light, and disappears in
the glare of occupation. It is a parlor religion, that shifts
its dress and loses its temper when it goes into the kitchen.
The pursuit of salvation in the midst of excitement is like
gunning in a strong wind; you cannot distinguish your
game, nor steady your sight. Why hurry your converts
into the water, plunging them through the ice in midwinter?
— true spirituality, like the witch-hazel, having blossomed
in the fall, will bear its fruit the next summer. We
need a piety like the plantain, which will flourish even
under the feet of mankind; and like the sandal-wood, that
bestows its sweetness on those who bruise it most hardly.
Trees flourish where corn dwindles; — you ought not to expect
the same description of holiness under all circumstances,
nor refuse a fruit of the spirit because it does not happen to
be your favorite crop.
“I am very frank with you, my brethren and sisters; I
love you all, — I desire that we may each attain to the
stature of perfect ones in Jesus. You invited me to speak;
I thank you for the opportunity. May God bless us all!”
After the meeting, several of the people spoke with Richard.
One said he had hit the nail on the head; another,
that he had driven it home; a third thought he had clenched
it; a fourth hoped he would bring some more nails.
Returning, Aunt Grint said, “Well, I do believe something
is going to happen.”
“Why?” asked Roxy.
“Our Richard,” replied Aunt Grint, “has really got
waked up.”
“I am usually awake at proper times,” observed Richard;
“and I sleep my eight hours every day. But my soul
never sleeps.”
“You do not know, for all the world,” rejoined the Aunt,
“what feeble and uncertain creeturs we are; you have no
experience of the dreadful natur of man. I wish I could
feel as you do, but I can't. Nothing but sovreign grace
will ever save me. Why, a salt-cellar will upset me; and
there is spots on the finger-nails that make a body so dismal;
and when a dog howls in the night, I have n't the least
mite of faith that ever was.”
“Your Bible,” answered Richard, “would correct these
superstitious fears, and lead you to a constant, unfaltering,
filial faith in God.”
“Ah's me!” added the Aunt; “I sometimes am afraid to
open my Bible, for who knows on what verse I may pitch?”
