Part 2

“Yes; you have not only lost the money, but broken father’s command, and broken your own promise. Hide nothing. Take my hand, Charley, and come with me at once; every moment that we delay doing what is right, we add to the difficulty of doing it.”

So hand in hand the two brothers appeared before their father, who was resting himself after a hard day’s work. George encouraged poor Charley to confess his fault; he entreated forgiveness for the offender; he placed in the hand of his father his own hard-earned savings. The parent opened his arms, and pressed both his sons to his heart! Then making Charley sit down beside him, the good man thus addressed his repentant child:—

“I forgive you, my boy, for the sake of your brother; but there is another Friend whom you have offended, whose commandment you have broken, whose forgiveness you must seek.”

“I know that I have sinned against God,” said Charley sadly.

“And for whose sake do you hope to be forgiven?”

Charley looked up in the face of his father, and replied, “I hope for forgiveness for the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

“And if you are grateful to an earthly brother for pitying you, and pleading for you, and paying your debt, how can you be thankful enough to that heavenly Saviour who shed his own _blood_ to win for you a free pardon, and who now is pleading for you at the right hand of God?”

Charley was silent, but his eyes filled with tears.

“And now, George, my boy, bring me the Bible,” said his father; “it is time for our evening reading.”

“What part shall I read?” inquired George, reverently opening the sacred book.

“Oh, let him read of some one who had sinned and was forgiven!” said poor Charley.

At his father’s look of assent, George turned to the touching story of the woman who, weeping and penitent, sought for mercy from the Saviour, and found it.

“Behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster-box of ointment, and stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee which had bidden him saw it, he spake within himself, saying, This man, if he were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him: for she is a sinner. And Jesus answering, said unto him, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee. And he saith, Master, say on. There was a certain creditor which had two debtors; the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me, therefore, which of them will love him most? Simon answered and said, I suppose that he to whom he forgave most. And he said unto him, Thou hast rightly judged. And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman, since the time I came in, hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little. And he said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven” (Luke vii. 37-48).

IV.

THE REPROOF.

A lady and her young daughter were travelling by train. Two gentlemen occupied seats in the same carriage, and presently entered into conversation with each other. Their language was such as pained their fellow-traveller to hear. The sacred name of the Deity lightly uttered, the profane oath on their lips, showed how little they regarded that solemn warning, “_For every idle word men shall speak, they shall give an account the day of judgment._” Fearful of uttering her thoughts to the strangers, the lady turned to her daughter, who, after having shown the fidgety restlessness common to children upon a journey, now sat still with open eyes and ears, a wondering listener to the conversation.

Anxious to divert the attention of Adine, the lady pointed out to her various objects on the road, and then proceeded to repeat anecdote after anecdote from the funds of a well-stocked memory. Adine was soon all attention; and at last even the gentlemen, having worn out their own subject of conversation, paused to listen to the mother entertaining her child.

“Did I ever tell you the story of a great king,” said the lady, “who once overheard two of his courtiers speaking in a way greatly to displease him? He gently drew back the curtains of his tent, and uttered this quiet reproof: ‘_Remove a little further, gentlemen, for your king hears you!_’

“Adine,” continued the mother, with a flushed cheek and beating heart, for she wished, yet feared, to make her lesson plain to the older listeners, “may not some people yet need such a reproof?”

“It would be of no use, mamma,” replied the child simply; “for, let us remove as far as we can, _our heavenly King always hears us_!”

There was not another oath uttered during the remainder of that journey; the lesson had not been given in vain.

V.

THE VASE AND THE DART.

“Not at school again, Harry?” said the teacher, Willy Thorn, as he seated himself in the little parlour of Widow Brown, and regarded with a kind but almost sad countenance the flushed face of her grandson. “You have not been with us for a month, Harry, and I fear that you never go to church. I had hoped better things of you, my boy.”

“It’s all from the bad company that he gets into,” said the widow, taking off her spectacles and wiping the glasses. “He is a good lad at heart, sir; but you see as how he has no firmness—he can’t say _No_. Harry intends to do well one hour, and forgets all about it the next; but I’ll be bound you’ll see him at school and at church too, some day or other.”

“He knows not how long he may have the _opportunity_ of doing either. Remember, Harry, the fate of your young companion, Sam Porter, hurried in one instant into eternity—not one moment given him to repent, to call on his Saviour!—all his _opportunities_ past for ever!”

Harry sighed and looked down.

“Well, my boy,” said Thorn, more cheerfully, “if you have made good resolutions and broken them a hundred times, _try again_; try with _faith_ and _prayer_, and God may give you the victory yet! I heard a little allegory to-day. I thought that it might interest, and perhaps benefit you; so, as it is too dark at present for reading, I will repeat it to you, if Mrs. Brown would like to hear it.”

“I am quite agreeable,” said the old woman, leaning back in her arm-chair.

“What is an allegory?” inquired Harry.

“Real truths shown in fiction. You will understand better what an allegory is when you have listened to this. It is called the story of

“THE VASE AND THE DART.

“A young boy entered a beautiful garden, which extended as far as the eye could reach. Through the whole length of it stretched a narrow avenue, bordered with overhanging trees. Slowly the boy pursued his way along it, listening to the songs of the birds, and admiring the green foliage above him, through which, here and there, streamed the rays of the glorious sun. He quickly perceived that he was not alone; on either side, all down the long avenue, stood a line of maidens, beautiful to behold. They were all robed in white, with wreaths of fresh flowers on their heads, and greeted the boy with a bright smile of welcome. Each held in her right hand a vase of gold, in her left a sharp iron dart.”

“I do not understand this allegory at all,” said Harry. “Did any one ever see such maidens as these?”

“These maidens,” replied Thorn, “are well known to _all_—they are called _Opportunities_. Who has not met with opportunities of doing good, opportunities of receiving good?”

“I see, sir. Pray go on.”

“As the boy approached the first maiden, she held out her vase to him, and invited him to take the contents. On the golden vase appeared the word PRAYER, and the sweetest, fairest fruits were heaped up within it; but the boy scarcely glanced at the proffered gift. ‘It is wearisome!’ he cried; so pushed it aside and passed on.”

“Opportunity for prayer!” cried old Mrs. Brown. “Ah, sir, who can count how many times we have pushed that away from us! God forgive us!”

“The boy sauntered on,” resumed Willy Thorn, “and soon another fair maiden stood before him: she also held forth a vase of bright gold, full of pieces of glittering silver. On it was inscribed the word KNOWLEDGE.”

“Here is the opportunity of gaining learning at school,” said Mrs. Brown, who was an intelligent old woman, and had read a good deal in her youth.

“But the boy scarcely glanced at the proffered gift. ‘It is troublesome!’ he cried; so pushed it aside and passed on.

“A short space further on another maiden stopped him, with a bright and joyous countenance. Her gold vase contained the loveliest flowers, and on it appeared written, ACTS OF KINDNESS TO OTHERS. The boy looked at it wistfully for a moment, tempted by the sweet perfume of the beautiful blossoms. Opportunity smiled, but _selfishness_ stayed the hand of the boy, half stretched out to empty the vase: he pushed it aside and passed on.

“The next maiden who greeted him was calm and fair, with a grave and earnest look. Her vase was full of refined gold, and this was the motto which it bore: ATTENDANCE AT THE HOUSE OF GOD. A sound of church-bells came on the breeze, and the sweet music of a distant hymn; but in vain they fell on the boy’s listening ear. ‘It is dull!’ he cried; pushed the rich vase aside, and passed on.”

“But you said, sir,” observed Harry, “that the maidens held darts in their left hands, as well as vases in their right. What do you mean by them?”

“You shall hear before I end my story. So the boy reached another maiden, who looked like an angel from heaven. Her eyes shone like stars in the calm blue sky, and the tones of her voice thrilled deep into the heart. Her vase was overflowing with sparkling jewels, brighter than those which monarchs wear. On it shone in glittering letters, THE WORD OF GOD.”

“Oh, I hope that he put out his hand and took _that_!” cried the aged woman, resting hers on her Bible.

“Opportunity cried, ‘Oh, pass me not by! _Search the Scriptures_, that can make you _wise unto salvation_.’ She held forth her vase with imploring look, but the boy was intent on pursuing his way. ‘I care not for it!’ he cried; so pushed it aside and passed on.”

“Well, he might have the same opportunity of reading the Bible again and again,” said Harry.

“Not the _same_,” replied Willy Thorn; “the boy could not retrace one step of his way. No moment of time can ever be recalled. Every opportunity of doing good once past, whatever others may arise, _that_ opportunity is past for ever!

“‘I shall meet with more maidens,’ said the boy. ‘I see an endless number before me; doubtless they carry vases as precious as those which I have rejected.’ But even as he spoke the words, he came suddenly on a black iron gate, and he could pass on no further. Shuddering, he read on the gate the solemn word, DEATH!

“Then would he gladly have turned round: then would he have earnestly asked for one more _opportunity_ for prayer—one more _opportunity_ of doing what is right; but _the last had been passed_—he had slighted the treasure of the _last_! Nor can we despise opportunities, and not suffer for doing so; if they offer the vase, they also carry the punishment meet for those who neglect its contents. As the boy stood trembling at the gate of Death, a dart came hissing through the air, and inflicted on him a burning wound: then came another and another; every opportunity despised sent its messenger of vengeance, and the wretched boy, writhing with the arrows of conscience in his soul, sank down at the gate, _and perished_!”

“Alas!” cried Harry, “where can I then find safety, for _I_ have neglected more opportunities than I can number of _doing good_ and _receiving good_?”

“Ask the Lord for pardon through the blood of the Saviour!” exclaimed Thorn. “‘_Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation_;’ neglect not _this_ opportunity—_it may be your last_! O my young friend! no day leaves you as it found you; every day brings its _opportunities_ of _prayer_, _praise_, _reading the Bible_, and _obeying God’s laws_; every day you have chosen either the vase or the dart.”

Dear reader, to you would I address a few words. If this little story has raised the thought in your heart, “How have _I_ improved my opportunities?” oh, push it not aside and pass on! Let not the day close without prayer; seize the golden prize while yet it is offered to you, or hope not to escape the dart!

VI.

THE JEWEL.

As a lady was walking across Hyde Park, rather early in the day, she happened to take her handkerchief out of her pocket, and drew out with it, by accident, a little red case. It fell on the path, and rolled almost to the feet of a poor girl who was standing near. The child was clad in rags, her hair was rough, her face and hands dirty; she was one who had no one to care for her, no one to teach her what was right. Half eager, half afraid, she stretched out her hand to seize the prize, but first turned round to see that she was not observed, and met the eye of the lady.

“Stop!” said Mrs. Claremont, who had heard the case drop on the ground; “stop, little girl, _you are in danger of losing something_!” and while the astonished Ann knew not what could possibly be meant by such strange words, the lady quietly stooped down and picked up the case herself.

She then again addressed the child; her manner was not angry, but calm and kind, and Ann, notwithstanding her fear and shame, felt a pleasure in listening to so gentle a voice.

“Come beside me while I rest on this bench,” said Mrs. Claremont, “and tell me what I meant, when I said that you were in danger of losing something.”

Ann only stared at her, and made no answer.

“Do you know that you have a soul?”

“I know nothing about it,” muttered the girl.

“Then,” said Mrs. Claremont, “I will show you what you were going to take, and explain to you what you were in danger of losing.”

“I’ve got nothing to lose,” thought Ann, but she watched the lady with some curiosity.

“You see,” continued Mrs. Claremont, “this little red case. It has nothing fine about it,—it looks old and worn. Did you think it worth stealing?”

“I thought there was something in it.”

“You thought right; the most precious part is _within_. So it is with you, and all people, my child. Your body, which can be seen and felt, is like the _case_ of the jewel; your soul is the jewel itself.”

“What is a soul?” said Ann.

“When I speak to you, you _think_ of what I say—the part of you that _thinks_ is the soul; if any were kind to you, you would _love_ them—the part that _loves_ is the soul. You can see that tree; it lives, but it has no soul in it, it cannot _love_ or _think_. Do you understand me now?”

“Yes,” answered the girl.

“You cannot see this jewel, because the case is shut; I am going to open the case, and show it to you.”

Mrs. Claremont unclosed the little case, and Ann beheld a very beautiful jewel, which sparkled like a star in the rays of the sun.

“This jewel was given to my great-grandmother on her marriage,” said Mrs. Claremont.

“Oh, how bright and fine it is!” cried Ann; “it does not look at all old!”

“It will never look old. When I and my children’s children are in their graves, it will look beautiful and fresh as ever! And so it is with the soul. Our bodies must be laid in the tomb, but our souls—those jewels within—will never, never die!”

“Where will they be when our bodies are dead?” asked Ann.

“Either in happiness or in misery, according as we have been God’s faithful people here or not,” replied Mrs. Claremont. “Now tell me, my poor child, for which should we care most,—the _case_ or the _jewel_, the _body_ or the _soul_?”

“The soul,” answered Ann.

“And it was your soul which you were putting in danger even now; for _sin_ is the ruin of the soul. It is written in God’s Word, ‘What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul, or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?’ To procure a few more comforts for your weak perishing body, would you throw away the precious jewel within?”

Ann looked at the lady very sadly, and then replied, “No one ever spoke to me in this way before; no one cares for _my_ soul!”

“O my child, there is One who cares for it, One to whom it is very precious! The Lord Jesus Christ left the glory of heaven to come and save poor souls. He bought yours with his life’s blood. He died on the cross, that it might shine for ever in glory!”

“Does the Lord really care for me?” inquired Ann anxiously. “Why, then, am I so wretched and so poor?”

“He does care for you; he does love you; you are precious to him. And as for being poor and wretched—look again at this beautiful jewel, and tell me where you think that it came from first.”

“I cannot tell.”

“It came from the dust,—it was dug from the dark earth. It had no great beauty then; those who did not know its real value would have despised and thrown it away; but there were those who knew that it was precious. So we too belong to the dust, fallen sinful creatures; and we would have lain there for ever, had not the Lord had pity upon us and raised us, and brought us into the sunlight of his gospel.”

“If the jewel was not bright at first, what makes it so bright now?” inquired Ann.

“It has been _cut_ and _polished_, and so it is with our souls. God sends them poverty or trials here, to prepare them to shine in his palace above! If the jewel had been a living thing it would not have liked to have been cut, but it would never have been bright without it.”

“I should like to know more about the Lord who cares for my soul, and bought it with his blood,” sighed Ann.

“Have you a Bible or Testament, my child?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Can you read?”

“No,” said Ann sadly.

“There is a Ragged School near, to which you might go and be taught, and hear about the Lord Jesus, and what he has done for your soul.”

“I know where the school is,” said Ann.

“Go, then, and you will be made welcome, my poor little friend. I do not remain in London myself, but I will leave with the teacher some clothes, and a beautiful Bible, which shall be yours as soon as you can read it.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said the girl.

“And one little word before we part, perhaps never to meet again in this world,” continued Mrs. Claremont. “If you cannot read you can _pray_—have you ever prayed to God?”

“Never,” replied Ann.

“Your soul can never be safe until you do. Kneel down, morning and evening, and at least repeat these few words: ‘_O Lord, forgive my sins, and make my heart clean by thy Spirit, for Jesus Christ’s sake._’ So short a prayer you can remember, can you not, if I repeat it over to you two or three times?”

“I think so,” said Ann.

“Pray with your whole heart, my child, and God, for the sake of the Saviour, will hear and bless you. Love him who first loved you, believe in his mercy, and obey his holy commandments. Then what matter if for a few years, or months, or days, you be called upon to wait or suffer here? Death will soon unclose the worn-out case, and remove the precious jewel to that glorious place where tears shall be wiped from every eye, and sorrow and sighing shall flee for ever away!”

VII.

THE STORM.

A little vessel was floating over the Sea of Tiberias; the Lord Jesus and his disciples were within it. “And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that it was now full. And Jesus was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow; and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish? And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still! And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm” (Mark iv. 37-39). The tossing waves sank down at his word, and the obedient waters lay like a sheet of glass, reflecting the blue sky above! “And he said unto his disciples, Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith? And they feared exceedingly, and said one to another, What manner of Man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (Mark iv.)

Dear little reader, are _you_ in trouble or temptation? Then are you like the disciples on the stormy Sea of Tiberias. Perhaps your relations are harsh and unkind, or perhaps you are a poor orphan without a friend in the world, and are ready to say, “No man careth for my soul!” But you have one Friend, a powerful Friend, a loving Friend, who has led you on your voyage through life until now, and will lead you to the end! The Lord Jesus is beside you, though you see him not. Hear what he says to those who love him: _Can a woman forget her sucking child! yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee_ (Isa. xlix. 15).

Or are you in great poverty, hungry and weary? You can scarcely earn your daily bread, you have no comfort, no rest, no home! In the bitterness of your heart, you cry, “Lord, carest thou not that we perish?” O my child, the Saviour is _not_ asleep! He knows your trials, he has felt them all—the Lord of heaven and earth once “_had not where to lay his head!” Behold, the eye of the Lord is upon them that fear him, upon them that hope in his mercy; to deliver their soul from death, and to keep them alive in famine_ (Ps. xxxiii. 18, 19). _Many are the afflictions of the righteous; but the Lord delivereth him out of them all_ (Ps. xxxiv. 19). Ask the Lord to help you, to feed you, to comfort you, above all, to give you his Holy Spirit; for if we love and trust in him, then _our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory_. Then the rough wind of trouble will but bring you on more quickly towards heaven, and even here below Jesus may bid the waves of affliction _be still_, and there shall be a _great calm_!

Or are you in the storm of temptation? You wish to please God, you wish to go to heaven, but you feel as though the way were too hard for you. You think, “I cannot resist that temptation; I can give up all but that one sin. If I do not join my companions in what is wrong, I shall be despised; if I do not tell such a falsehood, I shall be beaten; if I do not work or sell on Sundays, I shall be starved!” In such a storm of temptation turn to the Saviour still; _for in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he is able to succour them that are tempted_ (Heb. ii. 18). Cry, “Lord, save me or I perish! Give me thy Holy Spirit, that I may be ready to follow thee through trouble and temptation. Whatever I may suffer here, oh, keep me faithful to thee!”

Think on this one great truth, dear reader. The _comfort of the voyage_ matters _little_ in comparison to the _place_ where we are going. The voyage of life cannot last very long; the fiercest storm must soon pass away! Look at these two different passengers, and think which of them you would pity.