Part 50

The conversation was here interrupted by the sweet voices of children singing a Christmas carol in front of the house. We listened for some minutes, when Mrs. Stevens proposed that the choir should be invited into the hall, where they would be sheltered from the snow which was drifting against them. I immediately opened the door, which threw them into some confusion, and they were on the eve of scampering away. I requested them to come in; and taking hold of the hand of the youngest girl, I brought her into the hall, when, after some backwardness and hesitation, the rest cheerfully followed her. Mrs. Stevens welcomed them, and was pleased to recognize in the young singers some of her own Sunday scholars, who, in spite of snow and drift, had carried out this plan of showing their attachment to her. Their bonnets and cloaks were taken off; and after they had had some refreshment and warmed themselves by the fire, Mr. Llewellin consented to play on the piano, and we all joined the youthful choristers in singing the praises of the Redeemer. Thus pleasantly passed away the hours of the evening, without entailing guilt or self-reproach; and having rewarded those who came to afford us gratification, we allowed them to depart, happy and contented.

On the following morning we rose at the usual hour, and after the devotions of the family were concluded we took breakfast. The ground was carpeted with the snow which had fallen last night, but the weather was clear and dry above, and we contrived to reach church without much inconvenience. On entering the sacred building, in which I had on past occasions listened with delight to the glad tidings of salvation, and where many who were then assembled had received the first impressions of truth on their hearts, my eye caught sight of the venerable Rector, who had just raised his face from its concealment under the folds of his surplice, having invoked in silent prayer the Divine blessing on himself and his congregation. The time that had elapsed since I had previously met with him had not passed lightly over his head, for he now bore evident marks of increasing age and infirmity. When the audience stood up, as he began the service, I thought of the venerable patriarch who, when addressing the tribes of Israel just before his departure, said--"I am an hundred and twenty years old this day; I can no more go out and come in." Though his hand shook, and his general appearance indicated great bodily weakness, yet his voice was strong, and he read the whole service with great impressiveness and solemnity. Having finished it he threw off the surplice, and ascended the pulpit; and looking around with a benignant smile on his crowded auditory, he once more knelt to pray to Him who rewards with the open manifestations of his grace the prayers of his faithful servants. He chose the following text:--"For Christ is not entered into the holy places made with hands, which are the figures of the true; but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God for us: nor yet that he should offer himself often, as the high-priest entereth into the holy place every year with blood of others; for then must he often have suffered since the foundation of the world: but now once, in the end of the world, hath he appeared, to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself" (Heb. ix. 24-26). After a few introductory observations, he said, "Allow me to call your attention to--

"I. The Saviour's appearance on earth. Mark,

"_First._ The time of his coming. It was in the end of the world; that is, at the conclusion of the Levitical dispensation.

"_Second._ The design of his appearance--to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself.

"_Third._ The perfection of the sacrifice which he offered--verses 25, 26.

"The Jewish sacrifices," said the venerable Rector, "removed ceremonial defilement, and the guilt of the sins which were committed against the political and ecclesiastical laws of the theocracy; but they could not expiate the guilt of the sins committed against God, nor restore peace to the conscience of the transgressor: and their perpetual repetition, during the succeeding periods of that dispensation, was an unequivocal proof of their inefficacy. But such was the efficacy of the sacrifice which Jesus Christ presented, when he offered up himself to God, that he made a full expiation for the sins of his people, and procured for them pardon, acceptance, and eternal life. When his enemies stood gazing on him, as the blood was flowing from his veins, they were unconscious of the great moral effects which that precious blood was actually producing. It was throwing back an influence on the ages which were past--cancelling the arrears which were due to the justice of God from the redeemed who had been pressing into the kingdom of heaven from the death of Abel to that hour; and it was extending forward to the end of time a source of merit, which would take away the guilt of all who should believe in him. And yet, my brethren, though the Scriptures declare, in the most decisive terms, that we have redemption through the blood of Christ, even the forgiveness of our sins, many impeach the efficacy of the atonement, and some would expunge it from the Christian system. But if they are disposed to mistrust its efficacy in relation to themselves, why not suffer it to remain for the benefit of others? Take away the atonement of Christ from the scheme of redemption, and you commit an act more cruel towards man than that of which a Levite would have been guilty had he, under cloud of night, carried off the brazen serpent, which was the only means of saving the people from the agonies of a lingering but certain death. Take away the atonement of Christ from the scheme of redemption, and you commit a deed more cruel than that of which the high-priest would have been guilty, had he drained off the waters of Bethesda the night before the descent of the angel, by whose mysterious power they became the means of healing the withered, the halt, and the blind. O, take not from the sanctuary of the Lord the blood of sprinkling that speaketh better things than the blood of Abel: it is the only voice that speaks the words of peace to man, when stung by remorse, or agitated by fear.

"II. The Saviour's appearance in heaven.

"_First._ Where does he appear? In heaven itself.

"_Second._ For whom does he appear? For us.

"_Third._ For what purpose does he appear?

"It hath pleased God," said the preacher, when illustrating this part of his subject, "in the conveyance of blessings to man, to appoint a regular system of agency and means as the medium through which they are given. To object to such an appointment is no less an insult to his authority, than an impeachment of his wisdom. It is but rarely, indeed, that such an act of folly and impiety is committed in relation to the minor gifts which he bestows. Life is preserved, not by a direct and arbitrary exertion of his power, but by the reception of food prepared by the labour and skill of man, and received according to the ordinance of his appointment. Evils which threaten our honour and happiness are averted, not by a visible interposition of his providence, but by the influence and exertions of our friends, who are employed under his direction. If, then, on this general principle the ordinary affairs of his wise and benevolent administration are conducted; and if this principle be admitted by us, and we feel its practical utility, why should we object to the adoption of it in reference to a more important and a more momentous course of procedure? Why refuse to admit that Jesus Christ is the medium through whom all the designs of mercy and grace, in relation to man, are accomplished? If it hath pleased the Father that in him all fulness should dwell, ought we to object to such an arrangement? Is it wise? Is it becoming? Is it safe? But, brethren, I hope better things of you, though I thus speak. You feel too deeply your obligations to the Redeemer, for laying down his life a ransom for you, to wish to rob him of the glory of your salvation--and are too deeply interested in the result of his appearance in the presence of God for you, to exclude him from your affections and confidence. He now appears in the presence of God to intercede for you; and on his intercession your present safety and happiness, and your future glory depend."

The looks, the tones, and the manner of the speaker showed that he was thoroughly impressed with the importance of his subject; and being earnest himself, an evident impression was produced on his audience.

On leaving church, I was walking a little behind Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, and Mr. Llewellin, and was much pleased to find my old friend, Farmer Pickford, and his wife, waiting on the roadside to speak to me.

"I am main glad, Sir, to see you back amongst us once more; and I hope you will come some day and take pot-luck with us."

"Yes, do, Sir," said Mrs. Pickford, "we shall be so glad to see you. Our eldest son often talks about you. We hope what you said, when reading the Bible, and your prayer, have been made a great blessing to his soul."

"He'll be a better man than his father, and no mistake. Why, Sir, he knows more of the Bible already than Parson Cole; he can say more varses than the Parson can; and he can tell the meaning of them too. I and my mistress often sit up a bit at night, after the rest are gone to bed, to hear his talk about the good things of the Bible."

"Have you established family prayer in your family?"

"Yes, Sir," said Mrs. Pickford. "Our son prays with the family every night."

"Aye, Sir, it would do your heart good to hear our Harry pray. He often makes me weep when I am hearkening to him. Why, at his age, and a longful while after, I was a wild, wicked man. I have sinned a main lot of sins in my time, the more's the pity; but now I know the blood of Christ cleanses from all sin. What a mercy! Things are changed amongst us for the better."

"Yes, Sir," rejoined his wife; "the wilderness is now a fruitful field. We have no swearing, or drunkenness, or Sabbath-breaking, amongst us now. We are so happy, and thankful to the Lord and to you."

"I suppose, farmer, you would not like to have things changed back again to their former state?"

"I would rather die first, and no mistake. What! swear again--and get drunk again--and break the Sabbath again--and be the same man I was when you gave us the first talk about the worth of the soul. The Lord, I hope, will never let that come to pass."

"My heart would burst to see it," exclaimed Mrs. Pickford. "Our Henry tells his father, that when the Lord begins the work of grace in the soul, he always goes on with it."

"The Lord has done a little for me, I do believe; because I should never have done it myself without him; but I can't get on in knowledge and in grace, like my mistress and our Harry. I am dullish like, except in the matter of farming. But I hate sin, love my Bible, trust in Christ for salvation; and I think at times it will be well with me at last. I am happy to tell you, Sir, we now all go to chapel at night."

"So then, farmer, you have got over your scruples, and go and hear my friend, Mr. Stevens, on a Sabbath evening."

"He's a wonderful man. I sometimes think he can preach better than our Rector; though he is a main good preacher. He is more simple and plain-like. Somehow or another, but I don't know how it is, what he says gets farther into my heart, and stays longer there than our Rector's sermons. I wish he would preach in the morning too. The youngsters like him best. Our Harry leads the singing at the chapel, and teaches in the school. He is a kind of a right-hand man amongst 'um."

"Keep steadily on, farmer, in the good way; avoid temptation; let no sin have dominion over you; read your Bible, be constantly coming by faith to Jesus Christ, to pardon, to purify, and save you, and I shall see you in heaven at last."

"The Lord grant it may be so. Will you speak to me then if you should happen to see me there?"

"Speak to you! yes; and hail you as a son of God, made perfect in knowledge and in purity."

"Well, I'll live in hope. You will come and take pot-luck with us before you leave Fairmount?"

"Yes, do, Sir," added Mrs. Pickford; "we shall all be so glad to see you, and so will dear Henry."

"I forgot to say one thing," observed the farmer, "which mainly you would like to know, Sir."

"And what is that, Mr. Pickford?"

"Why, my mistress and our Harry have set up a bit of a prayer meeting like, in our kitchen, on a Wednesday night. Our youngsters and sarvants, and some of the neighbours come to it, and fill it; and we have some good singing, and all the rest of it, as they have at Mr. Stevens' chapel."

"I am happy to hear this, farmer; but have you a sermon?"

"No, Sir, not always; but we have a sarmunt now and tan, when we can get hold of a preacher; and when we 'ant got one, our Harry says a few things from the Bible, and you would be main pleased to hear him. He puts out what he says in a plainish sort of a way, but we all see that what he says comes from his heart, and it gets into our hearts, and does us good. Will you come, Sir, some Wednesday night while you are here, and give us a prayer and a sarmunt? You shall have a full kitchen."

"Yes, do, Sir," said Mrs. P.; "we shall be so glad to see you and hear you. I'll invite all our neighbours."

"And if the kitchen be not big enough to hold them, I'll have the barn cleared out, and we'll go there."

"Very well. I'll be with you next Wednesday."

We then shook hands and parted, and I hastened to rejoin my friends, who I found, in the interval, had met with the Roscoes, including Miss Roscoe, who had now happily completely recovered from her cold, and consented, evidently to the satisfaction of Mr. Llewellin, to accompany her parents in the evening to Fairmount. I informed them of my conversation with Farmer Pickford, and how I had arranged to conduct a prayer meeting at his house on the ensuing Wednesday. We then proceeded homeward, discussing the topics of the sermon we had just heard, with, I trust, much mutual profit. Early in the evening, Mr. and Mrs. Roscoe, and Miss Roscoe, appeared, agreeably to their promise, and we spent a very pleasant Christmas evening together. The tranquil joy visible in the countenances of Mr. Llewellin and Miss Roscoe was especially manifest--our courting days, as Goldsmith remarks, being generally about the happiest in our lives. After tea we had a little sacred music, both Mr. Llewellin and Miss Roscoe being admirable performers on the pianoforte. We then all joined in singing together the Evening Hymn. Thus terminated our Christmas at Fairmount, during which we had all experienced how much better is the employment of the day in the purposes of devotion than in those of conviviality and mirth.

On Christmas Day, when the scattered members of a family are gathered together to enjoy, around the social hearth, the pleasures of social intercourse, those who are the avowed disciples of the Redeemer should be on their guard, lest they conform to the custom of the world, which too often celebrates his birth by indulging in the pleasures of eating and drinking, and thoughtless merriment, rather than by improving conversation and the interchange of devotional sentiments. We are required to set an example; and while I am no advocate for the exclusion of innocent recreations and indulgences from the domestic circle, I must enforce the imperative necessity of a dignified consistency of conduct on the part of those who profess to be wiser in their generation than the men of the world, and who contemplate, with wonder and with gratitude, the scheme of redemption, consummated by the appearance of the Saviour, on which many pour contempt, or look with unmoved indifference. You may have your family parties, and you may invite your friends to partake of your bounty, and you may assume and wear an air of cheerfulness and pleasantry; but no excess of eating, or of drinking, or of levity should be tolerated, as your profession has raised you to the summit of observation, and the irreligious, no less than your fellow-Christians, expect that you will let your moderation appear unto all men. Your children, if they are not decidedly pious, may wish, on this day of festivity, to trespass a little farther on the gravity of your domestic habits than they presume to do on ordinary occasions; and though I would not advise you to transfer the sanctity of the Sabbath to this day, as you have no authority for so doing, yet there is a propriety in observing it with decorum, as commemorating the birth of him who came to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. The slightest reference to the _design_ of his mission will suggest to your mind the importance of celebrating this day in a suitable manner, by offering "thanks unto God for his unspeakable gift," and by giving a practical proof that he came to save his people from their sins.

WINTER SCENES.

The weather had been intensely cold since our arrival at Fairmount, and for two days the snow had descended without intermission; but on the second evening a severe frost set in, and when I stepped out in the morning, I found that the fallen flakes had become so hardened that I could walk on them without leaving the impression of my foot on the surface. I love the country at all seasons, and, though certainly preferring it in the genial seasons of summer and autumn, when the woods are decked in their mantle of green, and the fields brighten in the sunshine with their waving crops of golden grain, I have nevertheless frequently experienced a large amount of pleasure in rambling during winter along the frozen roads and lanes, or contemplating the bleak landscape spreading out before me, with its white carpet of snow.

After walking briskly onward for a little distance, I determined, after some hesitation, to revisit the spot where, on a former occasion,[29] I had sat to feast myself on the enchanting scenery of the country, which was then clothed in its gayest summer dress; but now the scene was completely changed. The skeleton trees extended their leafless branches sprinkled with snow-flakes; many of the evergreens in the shrubbery presented a withered and scorched aspect, from the influence of the frost; while the little birds, who in the summer had delighted us with their music, were now roaming about the country in search of food, and some of them not unfrequently found dead on the roadside from hunger and cold.

[29] See vol. i. p. 92.

As I stood viewing the change which the winter season had made in the appearance of nature, my mind reverted to the changes which as suddenly take place in the dispensations of Providence; and I recalled to my remembrance many who, during my short pilgrimage, had sunk from the heights of prosperity to the depths of adversity, and whose opening spring of plenty and of hope had been succeeded by the sterile and stormy winter--closing up the visions of their anticipated bliss in the gloom of disappointment and of woe. While thus musing on the mutations of nature and of Providence, I saw two lads approaching from a distant meadow, and when they drew near enough for me to trace their features, I recognized the children of the woodman whom I visited on the evening when his little daughter died.[30] They looked very sorrowful and dejected, and exclaimed, as soon as they recognized me, "O, Sir, we are again in trouble--we have lost father! Have you seen him, or heard of him? We have been walking about ever since daybreak, but we can't find him." They then gave me an account of the calamity which had befallen them.

[30] See vol. i. p. 104.

After the interment of his daughter, he regained his usual flow of spirits, and felt resigned to the will of God; but within the last few weeks he had sunk into a low, desponding state, and often spoke of his decease as one who believed the hour of his departure was at hand; and yet health nerved his arm, and he was strong to labour. "Mother often told him," said the eldest son, "that he ought not to mistrust Providence, who had always provided food and raiment for us; nor yet to think that he was going to leave us. But she could not comfort him; for, after coming home at night, he would sit and weep, and talk to us till we all wept with him; and we knew not why, for we saw no danger coming. We were all well and happy except father."

He had gone to his work on the preceding day, at his usual hour, taking with him, in his bag and bottle, his refreshment, and was seen by his master about noon, walking away from the field in which he had been at work, with his dog by his side, but neither of them had been heard of since. "We fear, Sir," said the lad, who sobbed aloud as he spoke, wiping away at the same time the falling tears with the sleeve of his frock, "he has tumbled into some pit, and has perished in the snow; but, Sir, we cannot trace any marks of his footsteps, nor yet hear Trail bark nor howl. Farmer Pickford and his son have just been away searching for him in one direction, and we in another; and the whole village is up looking for him, but we can see nothing like him anywhere, and I feel assured that poor father is gone. O, Sir, if you could but come and speak a word of comfort to mother! She is so unhappy, she does nothing but wring her hands and cry, for she does not know what to do."

Having heard this tale of woe, I resolved to accompany the two lads to the cottage, and endeavour to soothe their mother's distress. The distracted wife was standing at the door, and, on seeing me, she clasped her hands in an agony of grief, and began to repeat to me the affecting tale. "I have thought, Sir, at times, he would not live long, for within the last two months his spirit and his prayer all seemed to prove that he was getting ripe for glory; but I did not expect to lose him so soon, nor in this way."

"You do not," I remarked, "suppose that he is murdered?"

"O no, Sir! He has tumbled into some pit and perished in the snow, which fell yesterday in larger and thicker flakes than I ever saw before; but I feared no danger, because he knows the parts so well. I expected him home sooner than usual, on account of the badness of the weather; and as I thought something warm would comfort him, I had got a stew ready, but"--she could add no more.

I was very much affected by the aspect of the interior of the cottage, which still showed the preparations made on the preceding evening for the poor woodman's return. The neat round table stood near the fire, covered with a clean cloth; a deep wooden trencher, with a spoon and salt-cellar made of the same material, were placed beside it; the oak chair was in readiness to receive its owner, and the small kettle was still hanging over the fire, which had been suffered to dwindle from the bright blaze into dying embers. I endeavoured to comfort her in this hour of her sorrow; but she was so overpowered with anguish, that words of consolation appeared to be of no avail; and after praying with her I left, with a promise that I would call again. The lines of the poet Thomson, with which I had been long familiar, now recurred to my recollection, and I could not repress the tear which their remembrance on the present occasion involuntarily caused:--