Part 1

Transcriber's note:

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).

Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.

* * * * *

THE

SHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON.

THE

SHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON:

OR,

WITHIN AND WITHOUT.

VOL. I.

"My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me."--JOHN x. 27.

"Them that are without God judgeth."--1 COR. v. 13.

BLACKIE AND SON:

GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, LONDON, AND NEW YORK.

MDCCCLXI.

GLASGOW:

W. G. BLACKIE AND CO., PRINTERS,

VILLAFIELD.

PREFACE.

This Work was originally published, above thirty years ago, under the title of the _Evangelical Rambler_. It has long been out of print; and its republication at the present time has been recommended, as calculated to assist in arresting the progress of some popular errors and dangerous institutions, and in aiding the advancement of truth and social happiness. This opinion was strengthened by a knowledge of the fact, that, according to the most accurate calculations, from sixty thousand to a hundred thousand copies of the Work, under its original title, were issued from the English press, whilst in America it obtained an equally extended circulation; and from the still more important fact of the Author having received, from a large number of persons, assurances, both by letter and personal interviews, of their having derived their first religious impressions and convictions from perusing its pages. A new and thoroughly-revised Edition is, therefore, now issued, under the title of "THE SHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON," as being more descriptive of the aim and intention of the Work than its former name.

The object of the Work is to afford instruction and amusement, conveyed by a simple narration of the events of every-day life. In constructing his story, the Author has availed himself occasionally of the conceptions of his fancy, and at other times he has crowded into a narrow compass facts and incidents culled from an extended period of his history; but reality forms the basis of every narrative and of every scene he has described. He has departed from the common-place habit of presenting the grand truths of the Christian faith in didactic and dogmatic statements, preferring the dramatic form, as more likely to arrest the attention and interest the feelings, especially of the youthful and imaginative portion of the community. In adopting this style of composition, he has thus endeavoured to follow the footsteps of the great Prophet of Israel, who often spake in parables, veiling truth in a beauteous external vehicle, to captivate and teach his hearers, while their prejudices were lying dormant. In no book of human authorship can we find specimens of imaginative composition that will compare with the following examples from the New Testament, which the Author quotes, in illustration and defence of the principle on which his Work is based.

On no occasion during the ministry of Jesus Christ are we so thoroughly convinced of the fatal danger of trusting in our own attainments and doings for our salvation, and of the absolute safety of reposing exclusive confidence in Him for this inestimable blessing, as when he places us in imagination on the shore, after the desolating storm has completed its work of destruction, leaving us to gaze on the ruins of the one house erected on the sand; while we see the other remaining secure on the unmoved and unshaken rock, in stern and tranquil defiance of all tempests and hurricanes. _See_ Matt. vii. 24-28.

We have more definite and more vivid impressions of the invisible world--of the calm repose and fraternal fellowship of the saved, and of the privations and anguish of the lost, when reading our Lord's description of the condition of Lazarus and the rich man, than is produced on our minds by his announcement of the issue of the day of judgment, when the wicked go away into everlasting punishment, and the righteous into life eternal. Luke xvi. 19-26.

The Work, under its new title, "THE SHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON," has undergone a very careful revision; many portions of the original have been re-written, and others omitted to make room for new matter of more interest and importance at the present time. While carrying out the main object of the Work, as already adverted to--namely, to present the grand doctrines of the Christian faith in a pleasing and attractive manner--the Author has also endeavoured to elucidate various topics important to the church at large and to the well-being of society in general; and though he has not plunged into the mazes of controversy, with the obscure and often unintelligible advocates of the theological heresies of the age, yet many of the more prominent of these have been subjected to a severe and, he trusts, an impartial examination.

If the re-issue of this Work should prove as successful in conveying spiritual life to the spiritually dead--in relieving the anxious inquirer from his misgivings and perplexities--and in administering the consolations of faith and hope to the devout believer, while passing through the varied seasons of his eventful history, as it proved in its less perfect and less attractive form--then, whether living or dying, the Author will indulge the hope of meeting many, at the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ, who will be to him a crown of rejoicing for ever.

CONTENTS.

VOL I.

_Page_

The Lonely Widow, 1

The Widow's Son, 11

The Widow's Son Reclaimed, 21

Fairmount, 32

A Morning's Ramble, 43

The Horningsham Sailor, 53

The Rector of Broadhurst, 65

A Visit to the Rectory, 76

Saturday Evening at Fairmount, 92

A Sabbath Morning at Fairmount, 107

Sabbath Evening at Fairmount, 121

The Bible Disdained, 132

The Bible Precious, 149

The Family of the Roscoes, 154

The Social Party, 164

Miss Roscoe, 174

A Village Funeral, 186

Miss Roscoe withdraws from Gay Life, 197

Fresh Perplexities, 209

The Religious Party, 217

Miss Roscoe, 226

The Family of the Lawsons, 235

Calm Discussion, 246

Self-Delusion, 257

A Night Calamity, 266

A Surprise, 276

The Consultation, 287

The Dark Vale Illumined, 297

Intemperate Zeal, 307

Baptismal Regeneration a Fiction, 317

The Retired Christian, 328

Spiritual Regeneration a Reality, 336

The Evidences of Spiritual Regeneration, 346

On Conversion, 357

The Tendency of Evangelical Preaching, 370

On Attending an Evangelical Ministry, 383

The Unhappy One, 397

The Scene Changes, 410

The Tractarian at Fault, 421

The Popular Delusion, 443

The Churchman's Lament, 455

Right at Last, 478

The Quakeress, 495

An Escape from a False Refuge, 518

Christmas, 544

Winter Scenes, 560

On Apostolical Succession, 574

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

VOL. I.

_Page_

THE OLD SHEPHERD, _Frontispiece_.

WITHIN AND WITHOUT, _Engraved Title_.

Return of the Widow's Son, 22

A Prospect of Fairmount, 32

First Interview with Farmer Pickford, 47

The Church of the Neglected Parish, 66

Mr. Guion's First Interview with the Misses Brownjohn, 82

A Lamb of the Flock Borne to her Rest, 87

The Woodman's Family in Affliction, 105

"We Work on Sunday till Dinner-time," 110

Mr. Tennent and the Tract-seller, 151

The House of Mourning, 187

Evening Walk--Moonrise, 261

The Lost Child Restored, 270

The Dark Vale Illumined, 300

The Discussion in the Stage Coach, 423

Christmas Eve, 551

The Death of the Woodman, 570

THE

SHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON.

THE LONELY WIDOW.

In the summer of the year 18--, I took an excursion through part of the west of England; and after travelling on horseback several days, I resolved to tarry at the beautiful village of Stanmoor. Passing along, I stopped in front of a small but respectable looking inn, whose honeysuckled porch and tidy exterior promised to afford a tranquil and comfortable place of sojourn, and I made up my mind to rest for a season beneath its humble roof. Having taken my horse to the stable, and given the hostler instructions to take good care of him, I was shown into a neat small back room, which commanded a very beautiful view. As I stood gazing and musing while the homely-looking landlady was preparing my coffee, the lines of Milton's Morning Hymn recurred to my recollection; but never, till that moment, had they produced such an exciting effect:--

"These are thy glorious works, Parent of good: Almighty! Thine this universal frame: Thus wondrous fair! Thyself how wondrous then! Unspeakable: who sitt'st above these heav'ns, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine."

My cogitations were interrupted by the landlady, who, as a mark of respect, herself brought in my coffee, &c., put a small bell on the table, and assured me, with a great deal of good-natured ease, that she would endeavour to make me comfortable as long as I chose to honour her house with my company. Having partaken of the provision of the table, I resolved on taking a walk, and was told, that if I turned short round to the right when past the clump of fir-trees, I should soon come to a pleasant valley. This direction I followed; and in about a quarter of an hour I entered one of the most romantic vales I have ever visited. The sun was still gilding the tops of the distant hills; the blue sky was enlivened by the song of the thrush, and the responding notes of the yellow-hammer. As I walked on, my attention was attracted by the bleating of a flock of sheep, which I saw at a distance ascending a steep path, leading to a neighbouring fold. I quickened my pace, that I might have some conversation with the shepherd, who, with his dog, was bringing up the rear. He was an old man of a swarthy complexion, and strongly marked features; his gray hairs hung in locks over his shoulders, and his manners seemed to indicate the presence of a superior mind. He made a courteous bow; I saluted him, and remarked--"You are taking your flock home to rest, which I hope sometimes reminds you of the approach of that hour when you must rest from all your labours."

"Yes, it does; and, blessed be God, there is a rest provided for his people."

This pious expression sprang a mine of exquisite feeling in my breast; and I instantaneously felt a profound veneration and respect for the old man, whom I now looked upon as a son of God in the disguise of lowly and lonely humanity.

"I presume you know something about Jesus Christ, who is the way to that place of rest."

"Yes, he is now my Saviour, though for many years I lived without knowing anything about him. I often feel sorry when I think of the many precious hours I have wasted by reading ballads and foolish books, which I ought to have spent in reading my Bible."

"Do you ever attend a place of worship?"

"No, I never leave my flock."

"How, then, did you come to know anything about Jesus Christ?"

He put his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a tract, and said, as the big tear dropped upon his cheek, "This is the blessed book that made known to me a blessed Saviour; and I would not part with it for all the world."

Feeling anxious to hold in my hand the instrument which had been employed by the "Eternal Spirit" in turning this aged man from darkness to light, I asked him to let me see the tract. It bore the following title, which had become nearly obliterated by frequent use:--"The Good Old Way; or the Religion of our Forefathers, as explained in the Articles, Liturgy, and Homilies of the Church of England." I said to him, "How did you get this tract?"

"A lady gave it me one day, about three years ago; I don't know her; but I hope she will be recompensed at the resurrection of the just."

"How do you spend your leisure time now?"

"In reading my Bible, which tells me so much about that dear Saviour, in whom, through grace, I have believed, and who is able to keep that which I have committed to him against the great day."

"I suppose you are much more happy now than you were before you knew him?"

This question brought over his countenance one of the finest expressions of delight I ever beheld; and, after a short pause, he said, "More happy, Sir! I never was happy till I obtained mercy; but now I am happy, and expect before long to join that blessed company we read of in the Revelation, who serve God day and night in his temple."

Having made a few unimportant inquiries about his family, the state of agriculture, and the population of the district, I wished him a good night, and left him. As I passed along, I said to myself, I should like to watch the countenance, and listen to the remarks of this converted shepherd, while some philosophic sceptic, in flippant style, or in graver tone and sarcastic sneer, says to him, "Why, shepherd, you have been long living amidst visible and splendid realities; but now, in your old age, you are living under the spell of legendary delusions. The Deity whom you now adore is nothing but the idol of your own creation. The reported facts and doctrines of the Bible, which have had such an effect on your imagination, are either fabulous tales or superstitious dogmas; and, notwithstanding your airy flights into another world, you, like your sheep, will cease to be, when death comes to release you from your labours, for there is no other world."

With what indignant astonishment, blended with pity, would the old shepherd look on such a man; doubting, for a few moments, whether he was not some infernal spirit in the human form. I can easily imagine he would reply: "It is odd, Sir, that such a poor ignorant old man as I be, that has lived for more than sixty years without thinking about God at all, should all at once, and without intending to do it, create by the force of my fancy such a pure, benevolent, and glorious Being, as I now believe God to be; who stoops from his high and lofty throne to listen to my poor prayers, and to answer them too. And it is mainly odd, Sir, methinks, that these tales of the Bible, if they be fabulous, and these doctrines of the Bible, if they be nothing but superstitious dogmas, as you call them, should all at once, and without my thinking of such a thing being done, work such a great and blessed change in my hard and wicked heart, and should make me so happy as I now be. It is, methinks, a main pity that they have not worked on your heart as they have on mine, and then you would be about as unable and as unwilling to doubt their truth as I be. You say, Sir, there is no other world; I should like to know how you happen to know this? have you been to the sun, and the moon, and all the stars, and every where else to see? If you have not, according to my plain way of thinking, I think it is a main act of presumption for you to say so. You tell me that I shall cease to be at death, just as these sheep will cease to be. I should like to know how you happen to know this. Has our Maker spoken to you out of heaven, and told you so: or is it mere guess-work with you? No, no, Sir; I am not going to take your random guess-work sayings as true gospel; I like Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John too well for that; and now, to let you know my mind, I tell you plainly, you come too late to make a poor man disbelieve his Bible, if you don't come before he has felt the enlightening and renewing and refreshing power of its blessed truths on his soul; he has then the Witness within, and that's a witness that can't lie. I won't give up the truthful testimony of this living Witness for your random guess-work sayings, which you yourself can't know to be true. I don't want, Sir, to offend you; but I look upon you as a false prophet, who may deceive the wicked, but can't deceive a man who fears God and loves Jesus Christ as I do, and shall do for ever."

Perfect stillness prevailed around; no sounds were heard but my own footsteps, and the occasional notes of the nightingale, until I came to a brake, when I heard the following verses of a favourite hymn, though the singer was concealed:--

"The calm retreat, the silent shade With prayer and praise agree; And seem by thy sweet bounty made For those who follow thee.

"There, if thy Spirit touch the soul, And grace her mean abode, Oh! with what peace, and joy, and love, She communes with her God!

"There, like the nightingale, she pours Her solitary lays; Nor asks a witness of her song, Nor thirsts for human praise.

"Author and guardian of my life, Sweet source of light divine, And--all harmonious names in one-- My Saviour! thou art mine.

"What thanks I owe thee, and what love! A boundless, endless store, Shall echo through the realms above When time shall be no more."

I lingered here some time after the music had died away, luxuriating in my own hallowed reflections; and then advancing a few steps, I perceived, seated in a hollow, a decent middle-aged woman, and, apparently, her daughter, who were thus pouring forth their evening hymn of praise. I then returned to the inn, had my supper, and after engaging in prayer with the family, retired to rest. In the morning I rose early and revisited the vale, humming over, as I sauntered along, the following suggestive and consolatory lines of a modern poet:--

"God is here; how sweet the sound! All I feel and all I see, Nature teems, above, around, With universal Deity.

"Is there danger? Void of fear, Though the death-wing'd arrow fly, I can answer, God is here, And I move beneath his eye.

"When I pray, he hears my pray'r; When I weep, he sees my grief: Do I wander? He is here, Ready to afford relief."

I reached the end of the walk before aware of it; when I saw a cottage, towards which I bent my steps. It was small, yet tastefully adorned with jessamine, honey-suckles, and rose-trees, with a neat flower-garden in front, inclosed by a hawthorn hedge; and while admiring its varied beauties, an elderly female made her appearance, whose physiognomy and whose manners were very prepossessing. After a little desultory conversation, as I stood resting my arm on the top of her little wicket-gate, she invited me to come in and rest myself. I accepted her invitation, and soon found that I was in the society of one of the Lord's "hidden ones." My hostess was a widow, whose husband had been dead about seven years. She informed me that her father, a man of piety and of wealth, had given her an education becoming his station; that at the age of seventeen she yielded herself to God, as one alive from the dead, and before she reached her twentieth year, she was married to one of the most amiable and one of the most attentive men that ever became a husband. A kind Providence smiled upon them during the first twelve years of their wedded life, when a series of disasters befell them, which turned their paradise of bliss into a valley of weeping. Her father having made some large speculations in the wool-trade, lost the whole of his property, and not having been inured to affliction in his earlier days, his vigorous constitution gave way, and he died, exclaiming, "Though I have lost all my worldly substance, yet the pearl of great price is still mine." The insolvency of her father shook public confidence in the commercial respectability of her husband, who was soon obliged to call together his creditors; and though there was more than sufficient property to meet their demands, yet, by making him a bankrupt, they did not receive quite half their amount. When his affairs were wound up, and he had obtained his certificate, his friends raised a subscription for him, and he recommenced business; but the hand of the Lord was against him, and he could not succeed.

An interesting daughter, who, from the age of seven years, had been seeking the Lord, was so overwhelmed by the afflictions of her parents, that she fell into a rapid decline; and though there were occasionally some bright prospects of her recovery, yet at last the night of death came and sealed up the vision of life. The father, who was a man of a very delicate frame, gradually sank beneath his accumulated trials, and left his widow with a son, without any resources for their future maintenance.

Her son was sent to a boarding-school, where he was educated at the expense of his uncle; and as the place of her nativity had lost all its attractions, she chose to retire to the lonely cottage in which I found her, where He who multiplied the widow's oil has never suffered her to want any good thing.

An occasional tear fell from her eye while she was relating this tale of woe, yet there was a dignified composure in her countenance, and that led me to remark--"I presume, Madam, that though you have met with such severe losses, you have not lost your confidence in God, nor the peace of mind it yields."

"No, Sir; I have enjoyed in this cottage more of the Divine presence than I ever felt in the days of prosperity, and would not willingly return to the world, and hazard the loss of my spiritual consolations, could I obtain its highest prizes. I know that my afflictions have been sent by my heavenly Father, who is too wise to err, and too good to act unkindly. He has designs to accomplish, by his dispensations, which may appear to us mysterious, because to us they are unknown; but though clouds and darkness are round about him, yet righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne. I now find the wells of salvation yield sweeter waters than when resorted to in former times, and my prospect of future glory is brighter and more animating than in the days of my greatest prosperity."

On expressing my surprise that she could willingly reside where the means of grace could not be fully enjoyed, she informed me that she was not deprived of these privileges. "If you look in that direction, you will see a spire rising among the trees on yonder hill. In that church the gospel is preached in its purity and in its power, and the Rector, who is an amiable man, usually preaches on Sabbath morning, when I attend. In the afternoon I stay at home and meditate on what I have heard; and in the evening I go to hear an excellent minister of Christ, who preaches in a small Dissenting chapel at the other end of our hamlet."

"Then you are no bigot?"