Stepping Heavenward Part 27

I have everything to inspire me to devotion. My dear mother's influence is always upon me. To her I owe the habit of flying to G.o.d in every emergency, and of believing in prayer. Then I am in close fellows.h.i.+p with a true man and a true Christian. Ernest has none of my fluctuations; he is always calm and self-possessed. This is partly his natural character; but he has studied the Bible more than any other book, his convictions of duty are fixed because they are drawn thence, and his constant contact with the sick and the suffering has revealed life to him just as it is. How he has helped me on! G.o.d bless him for it!

Then I have James. To be with him one half hour is an inspiration. He lives in such blessed communion with Christ that he is in perpetual suns.h.i.+ne, and his happiness fertilizes even this disordered household ; there is not a soul in it that does not catch somewhat of his joyousness.

And there are my children! My darling, precious children! For their sakes I am continually constrained to seek after an amended, a sanctified life; what I want them to become I must become myself.

So I enter on a new year, not knowing what it will bring forth, but surely with a thousand reasons for thanksgiving, for joy, and for hope.

JAN. 16.-One more desperate effort to make harmony out of the discords of my house, and one more failure. Ernest forgot that it was our wedding-day, which mortified and pained me, especially as he had made an engagement to dine out. I am always expecting something from life that I never get. Is it so with everybody? I am very uneasy, too, about James. He seems to be growing fond of Lucy's society. I am perfectly sure that she could not make him happy. Is it possible that he does not know what a brilliant young man he is, and that he can have whom he pleases? It is easy, in theory, to let G.o.d plan our own destiny, and that of our friends. But when it comes to a specific case we fancy we can help His judgments with our poor reason. Well, I must go to Him with this new anxiety, and trust my darling brother's future to Him, if I can.

I shall try to win James' confidence. If it is not Lucy, who or what is it that is making him so thoughtful and serious, yet so wondrously happy?

JAN. 17.-I have been trying to find out whether this is a mere notion of mine about Lucy. James laughs, and evades my questions. But he owns that a very serious matter is occupying his thoughts, of which he does not wish to speak at present. May G.o.d bless him in it, whatever it is.

MAY 1.-My delicate little Una's first birthday. Thank G.o.d for sparing her to us a year. If He should take her away I should still rejoice that this life was mingled with ours, and has influenced them. Yes, even an unconscious infant is an ever-felt influence in the household; what an amazing thought!

I have given this precious little one away to her Saviour and to mine; living or dying, she is His.

DEC. 13.-Writing journals does not seem to be my mission on earth of late. My busy hands find so much else to do And sometimes when I have been particularly exasperated and tried by the jarring elements that form my home, I have not dared to indulge myself with recording things that ought to be forgotten.

How I long to live in peace with all men, and how I resent interference in the management of my children! If the time ever comes that I live, a spinster of a certain age, in the family of an elder brother, what a model of forbearance, charity, and sisterly loving-kindness I shall be!

Chapter 17

XVII.

JANUARY 1, 1842

I MEAN to resume my journal, and be more faithful to it this year.

How many precious things, said by dear Mrs. Campbell and others, are lost forever, because I did not record them at the time!

I have seen her to-day. At Ernest's suggestion I have let Susan Green provide her with a comfortable chair which enables her to sit up during a part of each day. I found her in it, full of grat.i.tude, her sweet, tranquil face s.h.i.+ning, as it always is, with a light reflected from heaven itself. She looks like one who has had her struggle with life and conquered it. During last year I visited her often and gradually learned much of her past history, though she does not love to talk of herself. She has outlived her husband, a houseful of girls and her ill-health is chiefly the result of years of watching by their sick-beds, and grief at their loss.

For she does not pretend not to grieve, but always says, "It is repining that dishonors G.o.d, not grief."

I said to her to-day:

"Doesn't it seem hard when you think of the many happy homes there are in the world, that you should be singled out for such bereavement and loneliness?"

She replied, with a smile:

"I am not singled out, dear. There are thousands of G.o.d's own dear children, scattered over the world, suffering far more than I do. And I do not think there are many persons in it who are happier than I am. I was bound to my G.o.d and Saviour before I knew a sorrow, it is true. But it was by a chain of many links; and every link that dropped away, brought me to Him, till at last, having nothing left, I was shut up to Him, and learned fully, what I had only learned partially, how soul-satisfying He is."

"You think, then," I said, while my heart died within me, "that husband and children are obstacles in our way, and hinder our getting near to Christ."

"Oh, no!" she cried. "G.o.d never gives us hindrances. On the contrary, He means, in making us wives and mothers, to put us into the very conditions of holy living. But if we abuse His gifts by letting them take His place in our hearts, it is an act of love on His part to take them away, or to destroy our pleasure in them. It is delightful," she added, after a pause, "to know that there are some generous souls on earth, who love their dear ones with all their hearts, yet give those hearts unreservedly to Christ. Mine was not one of them."

I had some little service to render her which interrupted our conversation. The offices I have had to have rendered me in my own long days of sickness have taught me to be less fastidious about waiting upon others. I am thankful that G.o.d has at last made me willing to do anything in a sickroom that must be done. She thanked me, as she always does, and then I said:

"I have a great many little trials, but they don't do me a bit of good. Or, at least, I don't see that they do."

"No, we never see plants growing," she said.

"And do you really think then, that perhaps I am growing, though unconsciously ?"

"I know you are, dear child. There can't be life without growth."

This comforted me. I came home, praying all the way, and striving to commit myself entirely to Him in whose school I sit as learner. Oh, that I were a better scholar But I do not half learn my lessons, I am heedless and inattentive, and I forget what is taught. Perhaps this is the reason that weighty truths float before my mind's eye at times, but do not fix themselves there.

MARCH 20.-I have been much impressed by Dr. Cabot's sermons to-day.

while I am listening to his voice and hear him speak of the beauty and desirableness of the Christian life, I feel as he feels, that I am waiting to count all things but dross that I may win Christ. But when I come home to my worldly cares, I get completely absorbed in them, it is only by a painful wrench that I force my soul back to G.o.d. Sometimes I almost envy Lucy her calm nature, which gives her so little trouble. Why need I throw my whole soul into whatever I do?

Why can't I make so much as an ap.r.o.n for little Ernest without the ardor and eagerness of a soldier marching to battle? I wonder if people of my temperament ever get toned down, and learn to take life coolly?

JUNE 10.-My dear little Una has had a long and very severe illness.

It seems wonderful that she could survive such sufferings. And it is almost as wonderful that I could look upon them, week after week, without losing my senses.

At first Ernest paid little attention to my repeated entreaties that he would prescribe for her, and some precious time was thus lost. But the moment he was fully aroused to see her danger, there was something beautiful in his devotion. He often walked the room with her by the hour together, and it was touching to see her lying like a pale; crushed lily in his strong arms. One morning she seemed almost gone, and we knelt around her with bursting hearts, to commend her parting soul to Him in whose arms we were about to place her. But it seemed as if all He asked of us was to come to that point, for then He gave her back to us, and she is still ours, only seven-fold dearer. I was so thankful to see dear Ernest's faith triumphing over his heart, and making him so ready to give up even this little lamb without a word. Yes, we will give our children to Him if he asks for them. He shall never have to s.n.a.t.c.h them from us by force.

OCT. 4.-We have had a quiet summer in the country, that is, I have with my darling little ones. This is the fourth birthday of our son and heir, and he has been full of health and vivacity, enjoying everything with all his heart. How he lights up our sombre household ! Father has been fasting to-day, and is so worn out and so nervous in consequence, that he could not bear the sound of the children's voices. I wish, if he must fast, he would do it moderately, and do it all the time. Now he goes without food until he is ready to sink, and now he eats quant.i.ties of improper food. If Martha could only see how mischievous all this is for him. After the children had been hustled out of the way, and I~ had got them both off to bed, he said in his most doleful manner, "I hope, my daughter, that you are faithful to your son. He has now reached the age of four years, and is a remarkably intelligent child. I hope you teach him that he is a sinner, and that he is in a state of condemnation."

"Now, father, don't," I said. "You are all tired out, and do not know what you are saying. I would not have little Ernest hear you for the world."

Poor father! He fairly groaned.

"You are responsible for that child's soul;" he said; "you have more influence over him than all the world beside."

"I know it," I said, "and sometimes I feel ready to sink when I think of the great work G.o.d has intrusted to me. But my poor child will learn that he is a sinner only too soon, and before that dreadful day arrives I want to fortify his soul with the only antidote against the misery that knowledge will give him. I want him to see his Redeemer in all His love, and all His beauty, and to love Him with all his heart and soul, and mind and strength. Dear father, pray for him, and pray for me, too."

"I do, I will," he said, solemnly. And then followed the inevitable long fit of silent musing, when I often wonder what is pa.s.sing in that suffering soul. For a sufferer he certainly is who sees a great and good and terrible G.o.d who cannot look upon iniquity, and does not see His risen Son, who has paid the debt we owe, and lives to intercede for us before the throne of the Father.

JAN. I, 1842.-James came to me yesterday with a letter he had been writing to mother.

"I want you to read this before it goes," he said, "for you ought to know my plans as soon as mother does."

I did not get time to read it till after tea. Then I came up here to my room, and sat down curious to know what. was coming.

Well, I thought I loved him as much as one human being could love another, already, but now my heart embraced him with a fervor and delight that made me so happy that I could not speak a word when I knelt down to tell my Saviour all about it.

He said that he had been led, within a few months,. to make a new consecration of himself to Christ and to Christ's cause on earth, and that this had resulted in his choosing the life of a missionary, instead of settling down, as he had intended to do, as a city physician. Such expressions of personal love to Christ, and delight in the thought of serving Him, I never read. I could only marvel at what G.o.d had wrought in his soul. For me to live to Christ seems natural enough, for I have been driven to Him not only by sorrow but by sin. Every outbreak of my hasty temper sends me weeping and penitent to the foot of the cross, and I love much because I have been forgiven much. But James, as far as I know, has never had a sorrow, except my father's death, and that had no apparent religious effect And his natural character is perfectly beautiful. He is as warm-hearted and loving and simple and guileless as a child, and has nothing of my intemperance, hastiness and quick temper. I have often thought that she would be a rare woman who could win and wear such a heart as his. Life has done little but smile upon him; he is handsome and talented and attractive; everybody is fascinated by him, everybody caresses him; and yet he has turned his back on the world that has dealt so kindly with him, and given himself, as Edwards says, "clean away to Christ!" Oh, how thankful I am! And yet to let him go! My only brother-mother's Son! But I know what she will say; she will him G.o.d-speed!

Ernest came upstairs, looking tired and jaded. I read the letter to him. It impressed him strangely: but he only said;

"This is what we m might expect, who knew James, dear fellow!"

But when we knelt down to pray together, I saw how he was touched, and how his soul kindled within him in harmony with that consecrated, devoted. spirit. Dear James! it must be mother's prayers that have done for him this wondrous work that is usually the slow growth of years; and this is the mother who prays for you, Katy! So take courage!

JAN. 2.~James means to study theology as well as medicine, it seems.

That will keep him with us for some years. Oh, is it selfish to take this view of it? Alas, the spirit is willing to have him go, but the flesh is weak, and cries out.