The Annals of the Poor Part 22

The truth and excellence of the religion of Jesus Christ appear to be remarkably established by the union of similarity with variety, in the effect which it produces on the hearts and lives of true believers. In the grand and essential features of Christian experience, the whole household of G.o.d possess an universal sameness of character, a family likeness, which distinguishes them from all the world besides: yet, in numerous particulars, there also exists a beautiful variety.

On the one hand, in the aged and the young, in the wise and the unlearned, in the rich and the poor; in those of stronger and weaker degrees of mental capacity, in more sanguine or more sedate dispositions; and in a mult.i.tude of otherwise varying circ.u.mstances, there is a striking conformity of principles and feeling to Christ, and to each other. Like the flowers of the field and the garden, they are "all rooted and grounded" in the soil of the same earth; they are warmed by the same sun, refreshed by the same air, and watered by the same dews.

They each derive nourishment, growth, and increase from the same life- giving Source. As the flower puts forth its leaves and petals, adorns the place which it inhabits with its beauty, and possesses an internal system of qualities, whereby it is enabled to bring forth its seed or fruit in the appointed season; so does the Christian.

But, on the other hand, like the flowers also, some Christians may be said to grow on the mountain tops, some in valleys, some in the waters, and others in dry ground. Different colours, forms, and sizes, distinguish them from each other, and produce a diversity of character and appearance which affords a delightful variety, both for the purposes of use and beauty. Yet is that variety perfectly consistent with their essential unity of nature in the vegetable kingdom, to which they all equally belong.

In another particular they likewise resemble. They both die a natural death. The Lord ever preserves "a seed to serve him," from generation to generation; for as one disappears, another springs up to supply his place. But "it is appointed unto all men once to die."--Man "cometh forth like a flower and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not."--"All flesh is as gra.s.s, and all the glory of man as the flower of the gra.s.s. The gra.s.s withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away."

In the midst of such diversity of Christian characters there is much to love and admire. I have selected the case of little Jane, as one not undeserving of notice.

It is true, she was only a child--a very poor child--but a child saved by divine grace, enlightened with the purest knowledge, and adorned with unaffected holiness; she was a child, humble, meek, and lowly. She "found grace in the eyes of the Lord" while she was on earth; and, I doubt not, will be seen on his right hand at the last day. As such, there is preciousness in the character, which will account for my attempting once more to write concerning her, and describe her last moments before she went to her final rest.

At a very early hour on the morning of the following day, I was awoke by the arrival of a messenger, bringing an earnest request that I would immediately go to the child, as her end appeared to be just approaching.

It was not yet day when I left my house to obey the summons. The morning star shone conspicuously clear. The moon cast a mild light over the prospect, but gradually diminished in brightness as the eastern sky became enlightened. The birds were beginning their songs, and seemed ready to welcome the sun's approach. The dew plentifully covered the fields, and hung suspended in drops from the trees and hedges. A few early labourers appeared in the lanes, travelling towards the scene of their daily occupations.

All besides was still and calm. My mind, as I proceeded, was deeply exercised by thoughts concerning the affecting event which I expected soon to witness.

The rays of the morning star were not so beautiful in my sight, as the spiritual l.u.s.tre of this young Christian's character. "Her night was far spent;" the morning of a "better day was at hand." The sun of eternal blessedness was ready to break upon her soul with rising glory. Like the moon, which I saw above me, this child's exemplary deportment had gently cast a useful light over the neighbourhood where she dwelt. Like this moon she had for a season been permitted to s.h.i.+ne amidst the surrounding darkness; and her rays were also reflected from a luminary, in whose native splendour her own would quickly be blended and lost.

The air was cool, but the breezes of the morning were refres.h.i.+ng, and seemed to foretell the approach of a beautiful day. Being accustomed, in my walks, to look for subjects of improving thought and a.s.sociation, I found them in every direction around me as I hastened onwards to the house where Jane lay, waiting for a dismissal from her earthly dwelling.

I felt that the twilight gravity of nature was, at that hour, peculiarly appropriate to the circ.u.mstances of the case; and the more so, because that twilight was significantly adorned with the brilliant sparklings of the star on one hand, and the clear, pale l.u.s.tre of the waning moon on the other.

When I arrived at the house, I found no one below; I paused for a few minutes, and heard the girl's voice very faintly saying, "Do you think he will come? I should be so glad--so very glad to see him before I die."

I ascended the stairs--her father, mother, and brother, together with the elderly woman before spoken of, were in the chamber. Jane's countenance bore the marks of speedy dissolution. Yet, although death was manifest in the languid features, there was something more than ever interesting in the whole of her external aspect. The moment she saw me, a renewed vigour beamed in her eye; grateful affection sparkled in the dying face.

Although she had spoken just before I entered, yet for some time afterwards she was silent, but never took her eyes off me. There was animation in her look--there was more--something like a foretaste of heaven seemed to be felt, and gave an inexpressible character of spiritual beauty, even in death.

At length she said, "This is very kind, sir--I am going fast--I was afraid I should never see you again in this world."

I said, "My child, are you resigned to die?"

"Quite."

"Where is your hope?"

She lifted up her finger, pointed to heaven, and then directed the same downward to her own heart, saying successively as she did so, "Christ _there_, and Christ _here_."

These words, accompanied by the action, spoke her meaning more solemnly than can easily be conceived.

A momentary spasm took place. Looking towards her weeping mother, she said, "I am very cold--but it is no matter--it will soon be over--"

She closed her eyes for about a minute, and, on opening them again, said, "I wish, sir, when I am gone, you would tell the other children of the parish how good the Lord has been to me, a poor sinner--tell them, that they who seek him early will find him--tell them, that the ways of sin and ignorance are the ways to ruin and h.e.l.l--and pray tell them, sir, from me, that Christ is indeed the Way, the Truth, and the Life--he will in no wise cast out any that come. Tell them that I, a poor girl--"

She was quite exhausted, and sunk for a while into a torpid state, from which, however, she recovered gradually, uttering these expressions: "Where am I?--I thought I was going--Lord, save me!"

"My dear child, you will soon be for ever in _His_ arms who is now guiding you by his rod and staff through the valley of the shadow of death."

"I believe so, indeed I do," said she; "I long to be with him!--Oh, how good, how great, how merciful!--Jesus, save me, help me through this last trial!"

She then gave one hand to her father, the other to her mother, and said, "G.o.d bless you, G.o.d bless you--seek the Lord--think of me when I am gone--it may be for your good--remember your souls--oh, for Christ's sake remember your souls--then all may be well--you cannot know what I have felt for both of you--Lord, pardon and save my dear father and mother!"

She then took hold of her brother's hand, saying, "Thomas, I beg you to leave off your bad ways--read the Bible--I give you mine--I have found it a precious book. Do you not remember our little brother, who died some years since?--he was praying to the last moment of his life. Learn to pray while you are in health, and you will find the comfort and power of it when you come to die; but, first of all, pray for a new heart--without it you will never see G.o.d in heaven--your present ways lead to misery and ruin--may the Lord turn your heart to love and follow him!"

To the other woman she said, "I thank you, Dame K---, for all your kindness since I have been ill--you have been a Christian friend to me, and I hope that the Lord will remember you for it, according to his rich mercy:--you and I have many a time talked together about death; and though I am the youngest, he calls me first to pa.s.s through it: but, blessed be his name, I am not terrified. I once thought I could never die without fear; but indeed I feel quite happy, now it is come; and so will you, if you trust him--he is the G.o.d both of the old and the young."

"Ah, my child!" said the woman, "I wish I was as fit to die as you are; but I fear that will never be--my sins have been many, very many."

"Christ's blood cleanseth from all sin," said the child.

At this moment, instead of growing weaker, through the fatigue of so much speaking, she seemed to gather fresh strength. She turned to me with a look of surprising earnestness and animation, saying,--

"You, sir, have been my best friend on earth--you have taught me the way to heaven, and I love and thank you for it--you have borne with my weakness and my ignorance--you have spoken to me of the love of Christ, and he has made me to feel it in my heart--I shall see him face to face--he will never leave me nor forsake me--he is the same, and changes not. Dear sir, G.o.d bless you!"

The child suddenly rose up, with an unexpected exertion, threw her livid, wasted arms around me, as I sat on the bedside, laid her head on my shoulder, and said distinctly, "G.o.d bless and reward you--give thanks for me to him--my soul is saved--Christ is everything to me! Sir, we shall meet in heaven, shall we not?--Oh yes, yes--then all will be peace--peace--peace--"

She sank back on the bed, and spoke no more--fetched a deep sigh--smiled--and died.

At this affecting moment, the rays of the morning sun darted into the room, and filled my imagination with the significant emblem of "the tender mercy of our G.o.d; whereby the dayspring from on high hath visited us, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace."

It was a beam of light that seemed at once to describe the glorious change which her soul had now already experienced; and, at the same time, to shed the promised consolations of hope over the minds of those who witnessed her departure.

This was an incident obviously arising from a natural cause; but one which irresistibly connected itself with the spiritual circ.u.mstances of the case.

For some time I remained silently gazing on the breathless corpse, and could hardly persuade myself that Jane was indeed no longer there.

As I returned homeward, I found it difficult to repress the strong feelings of affection which such a scene had excited. Neither did I wish it. Religion, reason, and experience, rather bid us indulge, in due place and season, those tender emotions, which keep the heart alive to its most valuable sensibilities. To check them serves but to harden the mind, and close the avenues which lead to the sources of our best principles of action.

Jesus himself _wept_ over the foreseen sorrows of Jerusalem. He _wept_ also at the grave of his friend Lazarus. Such an example consecrates the tear of affection, while it teaches us, concerning them which are asleep, not to sorrow, as those which have no hope.

I soon fell into meditation on the mysterious subject of the flight of a soul from this world to that of departed spirits.

"Swifter than an arrow from the bow, or than the rays of light from the sun, has this child's spirit hastened, in obedience to its summons from G.o.d, to appear in his immediate presence. How solemn a truth is this for universal consideration! But, 'washed in the blood of the Lamb that was slain,' and happily made partaker of its purifying efficacy, she meets her welcome at the throne of G.o.d. She has nothing to fear from the frowns of divine justice. Sin, death, and h.e.l.l, are all vanquished through the power of Him who hath made her more than conqueror. He will himself present her to his Father, as one of the purchased lambs of his flock--as one whom the Spirit of G.o.d 'has sealed unto the day of redemption.'

"What a change for her!--from that poor tattered chamber to the regions of paradise!--from a bed of straw to the bosom of Abraham!--from poverty, sickness, and pain, to eternal riches, health, and joy!--from the condition of a decayed, weary pilgrim in this valley of tears, to that of a happy traveller safely arrived at home, in the rest that remaineth to the people of G.o.d!

"I have lost a young disciple, endeared to me by a truly parental tie.

Yet how can I complain of that as lost which G.o.d has found? Her willing and welcome voice no longer seeks or imparts instruction here. But it is far better employed. The angels, who rejoiced over her when her soul first turned to G.o.d, who watched the progress of her short pilgrimage, and who have now carried her triumphantly to the heavenly hills, have already taught her to join

'In holy song, their own immortal strains.'

Why then should I mourn? The whole prospect, as it concerns her, is filled with joy and immortality: 'Death is swallowed up in victory.'"

As I looked upon the dewdrops which rested on the gra.s.s and hung from the branches of the trees, I observed that the sun's rays first filled them with beautiful and varied colours; then dried them up, and they were seen no longer.

Thus it was with myself. The tears which I neither would nor could restrain, when I first began thus to reflect on the image of the dying chamber of little Jane, were speedily brightened by the vivid suns.h.i.+ne of hope and confidence. They then gradually yielded to the influence of that divine principle which shall finally wipe the tear from every eye, and banish all sorrow and sighing for evermore.