Chapter 18
A SCENE IN PALESTINE.
"I had rather choose to be a pilgrim on earth with Thee than without Thee to possess heaven. Where Thou art, there is heaven: and where thou art not, there is death and hell."--_Thomas รก Kempis._
It was a scene perfect in its calm beauty. A small, low, white house, flat-roofed, and dazzlingly clean, nestled at the foot of one of the fairest hills in Palestine; and before the door swept the river Jordan, plashing with that low, soft ripple which is music everywhere, but nowhere more so than in the hot countries of the East.
A grove of banana and orange-trees sheltered the house, and the delicate fragrance of the ripening fruit mingled with the perfume of late roses. On the green hills near, sheep rambled at will, and an occasional low bleat arose above the busy hum of bees, giving an air of life to the quiet scene.
In the shade of the trees sat Nathan, his wife and Mary. They had been talking of Manasseh,--poor Manasseh, left behind in barren Arabia! Nathan too had wanted to stay with his distressed countrymen, but failing health had forced him to seek the more genial atmosphere of the North; and, after a long, tedious journey, he at last found himself safe once more in his beloved Palestine, poor in worldly goods, yet serene and hopeful as ever.
And fortune was at last smiling on the Jewish family. Nathan's health had come back to him in the clearer, more bracing air of the Northern land, his flocks were increasing, and the only gloom upon their perfect happiness was the absence of Manasseh, from whom they were not likely to hear soon. And yet they gloried in knowing that Manasseh had chosen to meet tribulation for the sake of his faith, and that, wherever he was, he was helping others and fighting on the side of right.
"Father," said Mary, "how grand it is to be able to do something great and noble in the cause! Were I a man, I would go with Manasseh to fight for the Cross."
Nathan stroked her hair softly. "The life of everyone who is consecrated to God is directed by him," he said. "To Manasseh is given the privilege of defending the faith and helping the weak by his strong, young arm; to Mary is given the humble, loving life in which she may serve God just as truly and do just as great a work in faithfully performing her own little part. Think you not so, mother?"
"Ah, yes," returned the mother, with her gentle smile. "Life is like the cloth woven little by little, until the whole pattern shows in the finished work; and it matters not whether the pattern be large or small. So the little things of life, done well for Christ's sake, will at last make a noble whole of which none need be ashamed."
"But mother, watching the sheep, grinding the meal, washing the garments, seem such very little things."
"Yet all these are very necessary things," returned the mother quietly, "and if done cheerfully and willingly, call for an unselfish heart. A gentle, loving life lived amid little cares and trials is no small thing, my child."
Mary kissed her mother. "Mother, you always say what comforts one; you always make me wish to live more patiently and lovingly."
"And yet, Mary," said her father, "mother's life has been one round of small duties."
Mary sat thinking for a moment. "Yes, father," she answered slowly, "I see now that mother's life has been the very best sermon on duty. I shall try to be patient and happy in simply doing well whatever my hands find to do. But I wish Manasseh were home;" and she looked wistfully to the west, where bands of color were spreading up the sky, saffron at the horizon, blending into gold and tender green above, while all melted into a sapphire dome streaked and flecked with rosy pink rays and bars.
"How he would enjoy this glorious sunset! Oh, father, how dreadful if he were to be killed!--if he were nevermore to sit with us looking at the sunsets!" Her voice trembled a little as she spoke.
"We are committing him to the care of Almighty God," returned Nathan, solemnly. "God is love, and whatever he does will be best."
"You find great comfort, father, in believing that 'all things work together for good to them that love God,'" said Mary.
"For the children of God, everything that happens must be best."
"Even persecution and death?"
"Even persecution and death, if God so will."
Mary looked at his placid face for a long time, then she said: "How very peaceful you and mother are!"
"How could we be otherwise," the father replied, smiling, "with Jesus with us each hour, each moment? And we know that he 'will never leave nor forsake us.' I think, too, that he is very close to my daughter. Mary, is there anything in this world that could take the place of Jesus to you? Would wealth or honor or any earthly joy make you perfectly happy if you could never pray to Jesus more, never feel him near you as an ever-present Friend, nevermore have the hope of seeing his face?"
Mary clasped her hands, and her face glowed. "Never, oh, never!" she cried. "I would rather be like poor blind Bartimeus begging by the wayside, yet able to call, 'Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!'"
The sun had now set, and the sky had faded with that suddenness common in Eastern lands.
Nathan arose. "Let us now offer up prayer for the safety of Manasseh, and for the steadfastness of the brethren; for we know that where two or three are gathered together in Jesus' name, there is he in the midst of them. Let us pray!"
The three knelt in the dim chamber, with silence about and the evening stars above, and prayed for the lad who, amid very different scenes, was in the heart of the strange revolution. And then they sang the words of that sublime psalm, than which no grander poem was ever written:
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.
My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.
He will not suffer thy foot to be moved; he that keepeth thee will not slumber.
Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord is thy keeper; the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand.
The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.
The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; he shall preserve thy soul.
The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.