Part 9

“Then said the rajah to his second servant, ‘To what use hast thou put that goodly sheet of blank paper which I committed to thy charge, for I wish to behold it again?’

“‘I put the paper to no use whatsoever, O maharajah!’ replied the man, with a profound salám. ‘I rolled it up, and put it carefully on a shelf in an inner apartment, where no man could see it. But the damp spotted and stained it, and the white ants fretted it; the paper is no longer fit to be looked upon by the eyes of your highness.’

“Then the rajah turned to his third servant, and said, ‘To what use hast thou put that fair sheet of blank paper which I committed to thy charge?’

“Then the servant, after making obeisance, took from his bosom a roll, which he then slowly unfolded before the rajah. And lo! upon the roll, in letters of scarlet, and blue, and gold, appeared a beautiful illumination, fit for the walls of a palace. And these were the words inscribed:—_Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life_ (Prov. xxxi. 10-12).

“‘O faithful and wise servant!’ cried the rajah, ‘thou alone hast made a good use of my gift, thou only hast known its worth. Thou shalt reap a rich reward; and the paper which thy diligence hath made so fair, shall be framed in gold, and have an honourable place in my palace.’

“My friends,” continued the sage, “see ye the meaning of my story? The blank sheets of paper are the minds of our young daughters; and he who hath trusted them to your care is the mighty King, to whom ye must one day render a strict account. Ignorance is as the treading down of the ox in the field, or as the mould that mars the roll on the shelf. _For the soul to be without knowledge is not good._ But happy the father who causes to be traced on the mind of his young daughter lessons of purity, wisdom, and truth! Those lessons shall shine forth as in characters of gold; and she who has learned in youth to serve and obey the great King, shall find an honourable place in that heaven which He hath prepared for them that love Him.”

X.

The Oldest Language upon Earth.

The story goes that three old men—a Mohammedan, a Jew, and a Brahmin—seated on the ground beside a well, disputed together as to which was the first language spoken upon earth. The discussion waxed so hot, the voices were raised so loudly, that the sound drew to the spot a young Englishman. The youth had been out shooting; with his gun in his hand, and his game at his feet, he now stood, leaning against a tree, listening to the discussion between the three men.

The Mohammedan, with vehement gestures, and many an oath, declared that no language could equal the Arabic.

“Is it not the language,” he cried, “in which Mohammed (blessed be his name!) received the holy Koran? Is it not that in which the Most High gave laws to the faithful? Will ye, O ye unbelievers! cast dust on the grave of the Prophet by doubting that Arabic is the oldest language on earth?”

The Jew shook his gray head, and his brow was knit into many wrinkles as he made answer: “The language which Abraham our father, which Isaac and Jacob (peace be on them!) spake, must be honoured above all other tongues. Surely it was heard in Paradise, before Eve plucked the forbidden fruit! The oldest and most sacred language assuredly is the Hebrew.”

Then spake the Brahmin, in tones of scorn: “All languages compared to Sanscrit are as the bulrush compared with the spreading banyan. Nay; even as the banyan sends forth shoots, and from those shoots, when they touch the earth, spring forth young trees, so other tongues spring from the life-giving Sanscrit. He must be void of wisdom, and ignorant as a woman, who doubts that the most ancient language is Sanscrit.”

The disputants grew so angry, that it seemed as if to words might succeed blows, when the young Englishman stepped forward.

“O venerable men!” he said with courtesy, “you have numbered many years and I but few; yet let me arbitrate between you. I know what is the most ancient and honourable language spoken on earth.”

“You know!” exclaimed the Mohammedan in surprise. “You have but down upon your lips; and will you teach graybeards like us?”

The Hindu muttered to himself,—“The Sahib log think that they know everything! They can make roads and bridges, and send messages through wires; but what can they tell of ancient languages to a Brahmin?”

“The language of which I would inform you is not only the one first spoken upon earth, but it is the one now spoken in heaven,” said the Englishman.

The three men stroked their beards, and uttered exclamations of astonishment at the presumption shown by the youth.

“And yet more,” continued the youth, his eyes, blue as the sky, sparkling with animation as he went on,—“without learning to speak this language no man, of whatsoever nation he be, will ever be suffered to enter heaven.”

“Does your honour know this language?” asked the Mohammedan quickly.

“Yes, God be praised!” the Englishman replied.

“And where did you first learn it?” asked the incredulous Jew.

In a softened tone the young man replied, “I learned it first from the lips of my mother.”

The three men glanced at each other in surprise; and then the Brahmin inquired, “And what is this language, O Sahib?”

“The language of TRUTH,” said the Englishman.

When the word was spoken, the clouds cleared away from the faces of the three; they stroked their beards and cried, “Well said. Truth is the language of God; truth is the language spoken in heaven.”

“But it must be learned upon earth,” said the Englishman earnestly. “Before I came to this land, I gave up pleasures by day and rest by night, in order to learn the language of Hindostan. Were I not to know it, I could not remain in the honourable service to which I belong. And thus it is with truth, the language of heaven. God is truth itself, and a lie is to Him an accursed thing. It is written in His Word: _Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord._”

Again the three men glanced at each other. There was not one of them that would not have lied for the sake of making a few pice larger profit in a bargain; lies were to them common as the mosquitoes which buzzed around their heads; not one of them had ever thought of falsehood as a deadly sin, abhorrent to God.

The Mohammedan was the one to speak first.

“Upon what authority does the Sahib affirm that the gate of heaven is closed against those who speak not the language of truth?”

“On the authority of God’s holy Word, which cannot be broken,” replied the Englishman. “Hear, O my friends, what is declared of the abode of the blessed by Him who cannot utter untruth: _There shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination or maketh a lie._”

“Heaven will be very empty, then,” said the Jew with a sneer. “Your favoured Saint Peter, according to your own Scriptures, lied thrice, and with oaths and curses. Shall he be shut out from heaven, or shall his sin alone go unpunished?”

“Peter’s sin _was_ punished,” replied the Englishman gravely; “but it was Peter’s Lord, the Master whom Peter had denied, who bore the penalty for him. The blood that flowed from the Saviour’s wounded side can wash away all sin, whether of thought or word or deed, the sin of falsehood amongst the rest. But those who would be forgiven like Peter, must, like Peter, believe and love. When God’s Spirit comes into the heart, He comes to drive away evil from it; the unjust becomes just, and the proud becomes meek, and the lips that often were stained with falsehood learn the language of heaven—the language of truth.”

XI.

Stories on the Ten Commandments.

I.—THE BROKEN BRIDGE.

Hossein said to his aged grandfather Abbas, “O grandfather, wherefore are you reading the Gospel?”

Abbas made answer, “I read it, my son, to find the way to heaven.”

Hossein, smiling, said, “The way is plain enough. Worship but the one true God, and keep the Commandments.”[46]

The man whose hair was silvered with age made reply: “Hossein, the Commandments are as a bridge of ten arches, by which the soul might once have passed over the flood of God’s wrath, and have reached heaven, but that the bridge has been shattered. There is not one amongst us that hath not broken the Commandments again and again.”

“My conscience is clear!” cried Hossein proudly. “I have kept all the Commandments; at least, almost all,” he added, for his conscience had given the lie to his words.

“And if one arch of a bridge give way under the traveller, doth he not surely perish in the flood, my son, though the nine others be firm and strong? But many of the arches of thy bridge are broken; yea, the very first is in ruins.”

“Not the First Commandment—_Thou shalt have none other god but Me._ I have never broken that!” exclaimed Hossein indignantly. “I have never worshipped any god but one—the Almighty, the Invisible, the All-merciful. _That_ arch in my bridge, at least, is whole and entire.”

“The being whom we love above all others, and whose honour we most desire, the being whom we obey in all things,—is not he the one whom we worship in the temple of the heart?” inquired the old man.

“Surely; for that Being is our God!” exclaimed Hossein.

He of the silvery beard slowly rose from his seat. “Come with me, O youth,” said he, “and I will show thee whom thou dost worship in the temple of thine heart.”

“No man can show me Him whom I worship!” cried Hossein in indignant surprise; “for the one true God is invisible, and I worship none but Him.”

“Come with me,” repeated Abbas; and he led the way to a tank of water clear and pure, in which the surrounding buildings and trees were reflected as in a mirror.

Hossein followed his grandfather wondering, and saying to himself, “Age hath made the old man as one who hath lost his reason.”

When the two reached the tank, Abbas said to his grandson, “Look down into the clear water, and behold him whom thou dost love above all others, whose honour thou dost most desire, whose will thou dost ever obey. O Hossein, my son! is he not to thee in the place of the one true God?”

Hossein looked down, and behold! there was his own image reflected in the clear water.

“He who loves Self more than God hath broken the first law,” continued Abbas; “for is it not written: _Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the First Commandment?_ Hossein, this arch of thy bridge is broken; thou canst not pass to heaven upon it.”

“And can you?” exclaimed Hossein with impatience.

“No, my son,” said the old man meekly; “I have long ago seen that this, as well as other Commandments, has been broken by me, a sinner. There never was but one Man, and He the Holy One of God, with whom the bridge of obedience was perfect and entire.”[47]

“If your bridge be broken, how do you hope to reach heaven at all?” inquired Hossein. “How can you, or any one else, escape being swallowed up in the flood of God’s wrath?”

“By clinging to Him who cast Himself into the raging torrent that He might bear all those who believe in Him safe to the shore of heaven!” exclaimed Abbas with fervour. “Thou hast looked down on thyself, thy sinful self, O Hossein; now look upwards to Christ, the spotless One, who can save thee from self and sin. My hope of heaven is firm and sure, for it is founded on this sacred word: _God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoso believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life._”

II.—THE BURNING HUT.

Sheosahai, the Brahmin, stood in his straw-thatched cottage, gazing on the image of Krishna, the dark god, which for centuries he and his fathers had worshipped.

His young son, Sheo Deo, who from his birth had been paralyzed in his limbs, lay on his mat near, and thus addressed his father:—

“O father, the time for pujah (worship) has come! Why do you not prostrate yourself before Krishna?”

Sheosahai made reply: “My son, I was at the _mela_ (fair) yesterday, and there was a man preaching;[48] and I stood to listen, and his words have troubled my soul. He said that thousands of years ago the mighty God came down upon a mountain in fire and smoke, and that from the midst of the fire and smoke a terrible voice gave this command,—_Thou shalt not make unto thyself any graven image, or the likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: thou shalt not bow down thyself to them._ I would fain have cast dust at the speaker; and yet his words clung to my soul, for he spake as one who knows that he speaks the truth.”

“Was the great God of whom he told the God of the Christians?” asked Sheo Deo, who had heard something of their religion before.

“The same,” replied his father. “And the preacher went on to say that in England, thousands of years ago, men bowed down to idols, and worshipped the work of their own hands; and then the people were feeble and few. But the nation has long since cast away idols, and now men read their holy Book, and pray to the Lord Jesus Christ; and therefore England is mighty, and a blessing rests on the land.”

“O father! do you not fear the wrath of Krishna when he hears you repeat such words?” cried Sheo Deo, looking up in alarm at the painted image.

Sheosahai made no reply; he turned and slowly left the hut. Perhaps the thought arose in his heart: “Has Krishna power to hear them?”

After his father’s departure Sheo Deo lay still on his mat, from which he could not move, and often he gazed up at the idol, and turned over in his mind the strange words which his father had heard.

Presently there came on a terrible storm. The thunder roared above like the noise of a thousand cannon, and fierce lightnings flashed from the darkened sky; the whole earth seemed to tremble with the fury of the great tempest.

“Was it in a storm like this,” thought Sheo Deo, “that the awful voice was heard from the mountain, _Thou shalt make no graven image_?”

Then came a more terrible crash than Sheo Deo had ever before heard; and the moment after there was the smell of burning, and then the glare of fire above. Lo! the lightning had struck the hut, and the thatch was blazing over the head of the wretched boy, who, paralyzed as he was, could not even crawl out of the burning dwelling.

The red light glared on the image of Krishna; to the terrified Sheo Deo it seemed almost as if the idol had life!

“Help me—save me! Oh! save thy worshipper, great Krishna!” he cried; while the heat around him grew more and more fearful, even as that of a furnace.

But the image stirred not, heard not. The sparks were kindling upon it.

Then, in the agony of his terror, the poor Hindu bethought him of the Christian’s powerful God. Even in the presence of his idol he clasped his hands and uttered the cry, “O Lord Jesus Christ, if Thou canst save me, oh! save me!”

At that moment Sheosahai burst into the blazing hut.

The Brahmin looked at his helpless boy lying on the mat, and then on the idol which he had so long worshipped. He had no time to save _both_; which should he leave to the devouring flames? Only one day previously the Hindu might have hesitated in making his choice, but he did not hesitate now. He caught up his son in his arms; he bore him forth from the fiery furnace. “If Krishna be a god he will save himself,” muttered the Brahmin.

The hut was soon burned to ashes, and the idol lay a heap of cinders within it.

Sheo Deo lived; and in the following year, after much instruction from the missionary, he and his father received the water of baptism, believing that which is written in the holy Scriptures: _This is life eternal, that they might know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent._

III.—THE MARKS ON THE SAND.

A Mohammedan youth, Hakim Alí by name, on his return from a journey through Arabia, visited his friend Yuhanna, the Christian. Though the two held not the same faith, there was much friendship between them.[49] They sat together under a pépul tree, and Hakim Alí, with great animation, gave to Yuhanna an account of all that he had seen in his travels. For a long time Yuhanna had all the listening, and his friend had all the talking. In almost every sentence uttered by Hakim Alí, he brought in the name of Allah (God); if he were but describing how a mule stumbled, or what evil fare he had had at an inn, he called God to bear witness to what he said—even if he were laughing when the holy name was on his lips. Yuhanna had a stick in his hand, and every time that Hakim Alí uttered the sacred name, Yuhanna with the stick made a mark on the sand. Hakim Alí at last noticed with surprise this act of Yuhanna.

“What are you marking?” he cried.

“Debts,” was the brief reply.

“You have many,” laughed Hakim Alí, again using the name of the Highest; and again Yuhanna drew a line on the sand.

Then Yuhanna, turning, asked a question: “You have visited many holy shrines and sacred tombs in your life, O Hakim Alí!” said he; “did you ever take off your slippers before entering?”[50]

Hakim Alí was so much astonished at the question, that more loudly than ever he uttered the name of Allah. “Do you count me as an unclean swine?” he exclaimed; “do you doubt that I always take off my slippers on such occasions? Never without due reverence do I approach that which is holy.”

Yuhanna pointed to the marks on the sand. “O my friend!” said he, “fifteen times within the last hour have you shown no reverence for that which is most holy.”

“What is your meaning?” exclaimed the astonished Hakim Alí, again lightly using the sacred name of God.

Once more Yuhanna made a mark on the sand.

“Is a building made by the hands of men more to be reverenced than that sacred name before which the angels bow?” said Yuhanna gravely. “Is not every time that that name is taken in vain marked down,—not on sand, where it can be lightly effaced, but in that book of remembrance which is kept by the Highest? O my friend! it was the voice of the Almighty Himself that gave the command: _Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh His name in vain._ This command was written first by the finger of God on the table of stone committed to Moses.”[51]

“Are you Christians then so careful how you take the name of God on your lips?” asked Hakim Alí, rising somewhat angrily from his seat.

“We, of all men, should be most careful,” replied his friend, “for in the prayer taught by the Lord Jesus Christ to His servants, the very first petition to God is, _Hallowed be Thy name_. If we use that name without reverence, our very prayer becomes a mockery, and we are convicted of sin before God. Solemn was the warning given by our Lord: _Every idle word that a man shall speak, he shall give account thereof in the day of judgment._”

“Who then can stand in the day of judgment?” asked Hakim Alí with a troubled countenance, as with his foot he hastily erased the marks on the sand.

“None can stand but those who can plead not their own righteousness, but the righteousness of another,” replied Yuhanna, looking upwards. “Like the prophet Isaiah I have often cried: _Woe is me! for I am undone, for I am a man of unclean lips_; but when I think of the blood that was shed by Christ on the cross for sinners, to my heart the answer comes: _Lo! this hath touched thy lips, and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged. There is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus._”

IV.—THE BEAUTIFUL GARDEN.

There was a certain man who had a young son, Azfur Alí by name, whom he greatly loved, and whom he daily loaded with favours. One day this father said unto Azfur Alí,—“Come with me into the garden which I have purchased and prepared that it may be a goodly possession for you, O my son!”

The father then led the way to a beautiful garden, in which were all kinds of flowers,—some lovely in colour, some sweet in scent. The garden was divided into seven portions; and the flowers in the seventh portion were white as snow on the tops of the mountains.

“Now, my son, take your pleasure in six portions of this garden,” said the father; “but the seventh I have kept for myself. Let not your foot wander over the border; enjoy the scent of the flowers from a little distance, but lay not a hand upon them. Behold! they are mine, and in abstaining from touching them your obedience to me shall be shown. It is my love for you, Azfur Alí, that makes me thus reserve the seventh portion. To the white flowers which blossom there on the plants will succeed a delicious fruit, to look upon which will be pleasure, and to eat which will be health. The seventh portion is to be to you even a greater blessing than the other six; but now I call it mine, so trespass not on the ground reserved.”

After a while the father departed for a time to a distant place, leaving his young son behind him.

From morning till night Azfur Alí amused himself in the garden; he gathered the flowers at his pleasure, and formed wreaths of the fairest blossoms, red, yellow, and blue; but his eyes often wandered to the forbidden ground on which his feet were never to tread.

“Why should I be tied and bound down to these six portions of the garden?” cried Azfur Alí. “I do not like the scent of those white flowers; if I pulled them up, I could put in their place golden flowers that I like much better. As for the fruit of which my father spoke, I do not believe that it ever will come; at least, I cannot wait for it. A hard and unreasonable thing it is, to shut me out from a seventh part of my garden.”

So Azfur Alí ran into the forbidden ground, trampling down the plants, and crushing the fair white blossoms, and some he tore up by the roots. Then he tried to put in their place plants that had golden flowers; but they flourished not, but withered, and the seventh portion of the garden was soon covered with weeds, and became a desolation!

When the father returned his wrath was great. “Azfur Alí!” he cried, “thou hast broken my command, thou hast trespassed on the seventh portion of the garden which I reserved for myself, and hast destroyed the flowers which would have borne precious fruit. Thou hast forfeited all right from henceforth to possess any part of my garden.”

* * * * *

This story is a parable. The garden is the garden of Time, and the seventh portion is the Sabbath which the Heavenly Father hath reserved for Himself, as we read in His holy Word: _Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work: but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant, thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates: for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed the seventh day, and hallowed it._

The white blossoms that grow in this garden are the blossoms of Prayer, and Praise, and Perusal of the Holy Scriptures. The fragrance of them is as the fragrance of the Garden of Eden. But the full sweetness of the fruit which follows will be enjoyed in heaven, where the hymn of praise on earth will be changed for the song of the Lord’s redeemed: _The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of the Lord and of His Christ, and He shall reign for ever and ever!_

V.—THE BLIND MOTHER.