Canadian Wild Flowers Part 1

Canadian Wild Flowers.

by Helen M. Johnson.

PREFACE.

An observance of the hand of G.o.d in his providences, as well as of his Spirit in the written Word and in the human heart, has led to the publication of this book. Though more than twenty years hare pa.s.sed since Miss JOHNSON died, her name is like "an ointment poured forth."

Many who never knew her personally seem to know her well from her poetic writings: for "as fragrance to the sense of smell, music to the ear, or beauty to the eye, so is poetry to the sensibilities of the heart,--it ministers to a want of our intellectual nature; this is the secret of its power and the pledge of its perpetuity." A 16mo volume of her "Poems" was published in Boston, in 1855, but has long been out of print. In 1864 the Rev. E. H. Dewart published in Montreal a work ent.i.tled "Selections from Canadian Poets," in which ten of her poems were inserted and a very appreciative notice of her given. She also wrote for several papers, so that in various ways her thoughts have been widely disseminated. A desire has often been expressed to have them collected into one volume; but to have all thus republished would not be best. I have therefore attempted only what the t.i.tle indicates --to make _selections from her writings_; and conclude to send them forth under a name which she herself chose at a time when she had thoughts of getting out a book. Let critics remember that they claim to be only "_Canadian wild flowers_"; yet we feel sure that some of them, for beauty of form and fragrance of truth, will not unfavorably compare with some of the cultivated productions of our cla.s.sic poets. Miss JOHNSON was better known by her poetry than by her prose writings, yet in the latter are found so many grand thoughts that I have copied from them freely. The biographical sketch, it is hoped, will add interest to the book, especially as so many of her diary notes have been interwoven. Some of her pieces are here printed for the first time. The prize poem on "The Surrender of Quebec" is given in full. In the Preface to her "Poems" she said: "I have been cheered and encouraged by the thought that perhaps through my instrumentality the heart of some humble believer might be comforted, and some wretched wanderer, weary of the vanities of earth, be directed to the only source of life and happiness. Should such be the case, the brightest hopes of the auth.o.r.ess will be fulfilled, and she herself be amply compensated for her care and labor." With a sincere desire to aid in the direction thus indicated this little work is now sent forth.

J.M.O.

Brookline, Ma.s.s., June 22, 1884.

LIFE SKETCH.

The hill country of Judea, which furnished a home for the virgin mother of our Lord, is not the only rural region from whence have come women endowed with intelligence and integrity, philanthropy and religion, who by pen and tongue have brightened and blest the hearts and homes of thousands. Nurtured amidst the wilds of nature, instead of the bustle and bewildering attractions of city life, they have grown strong to do battle for the right and to bear testimony to the truth as it is in Jesus. Of this cla.s.s is the one whose life and labors we are now to consider.

Memphremagog is an enchanting lake, two-thirds of which lie in the Eastern Towns.h.i.+ps of Canada, in the Province of Quebec, and the upper third in Vermont. Its extreme length from north to south is about thirty miles, its breadth varying from one to three miles. It is semi-circular in form and bestudded with islands; while on its western sh.o.r.e rise mountains of no ordinary attractions, among them Owl's Head, which towers about 2,500 feet above the surface of the lake, affording from its summit a panoramic view of surpa.s.sing loveliness.

It was at "The Outlet" of this lake there was born, Oct. 27, 1834, Helen Mar, the youngest daughter of Abel B. and Polly JOHNSON; and there she spent--with the exception of the time devoted to attending or teaching school--almost her entire life. Of cities she knew nothing by experience; but as her reading was extensive she knew much of the world by mental surveys. The book of Nature was her delight. Its ill.u.s.trations of stones and streams, lakes and rivers, mountains and forests, birds and flowers, were ever attractive to her. At an early age she began to exhibit rare poetic talent. Of "a number of short pieces, written between the ages of twelve and fifteen years," the following, ent.i.tled "The Forest," has been preserved. It appeared in the _Stanstead Journal_--a paper to which she afterwards frequently contributed. It was probably the first article she ever had printed.

"Let others seek sweet friends.h.i.+p's voice When grief the spirit bends, Let them find solace in the tones Of their beloved friends; But oh! when sorrow o'er me broods, Give me the dark, the dark green woods."

"When pleasure lights the sparkling eye, And swells with rapture proud, Let others spend their joyous mirth Within the giddy crowd; But when o'er me no clouds are seen, Give me the forest, dark and green."

"When pure devotion fills the heart, And breathes a yearning prayer, Let others wander to the church And pay their tribute there; But if o'er me such feelings steal, In the dark forest let me kneel."

"When death comes o'er the pallid brow To number with the dead, Let others choose some lovely grave, Where tears will oft be shed; But let me, let me find a tomb Deep in the forest's darkening gloom."

Her life was not one of thrilling adventure, hairbreadth escapes, and deeds securing worldly applause, but quiet, un.o.btrusive and useful.

Her const.i.tution was naturally weak--her brain too active for her body, and as a consequence much mental and physical suffering was her portion. To her studies--French, Latin and drawing, besides the English branches--she was very devoted. Nothing pleased her better than to be alone with books, pen and pencil, or to wander forth in garden or field. Being of a very bashful and retiring disposition she felt alone even in company. Her diary leaves give evidence of this.

Under date of June 19,1852, for example, she writes:

"How lonely I feel to-day! and my rebellious heart will repeat the question, Why was I created thus? I stand alone, and why? I know it is my own self that makes me so; but how can I make myself otherwise? I have tried very, _very_ hard to overcome my--what shall I call it?

bashfulness? It seems as though it could not be wholly that. I have seen those the world called _bashful_, but they were not at all like myself. Oh, no; I am wretched at times on account of this ----. When I see myself all alone--different from those around me--I cannot stay the burning tear though I would gladly repress it. I cannot soothe the anguish that fills my heart, and yet I feel that this is wrong,--that it ought not to be thus. Why should I feel so keenly that I am _alone_? that I am strange? Earthly scenes will soon be over, and if I am only a Christian I shall never feel alone in heaven. Oh, glorious thought! there will be no strange being there. O G.o.d, prepare me for that blissful world and I will no longer complain of my loneliness on earth--no longer sigh that I am not like others."

At this time Miss JOHNSON was not a professed Christian. Her parents had endeavored to bring her up in the fear of the Lord and a belief of the gospel, and to attend the services of the sanctuary. Her life had been one of strict morality. She believed in G.o.d but had not taken Christ as _her own personal Saviour_ and confessed him before men as she felt she should. Her conviction of sin however was deep and pungent. On another day in the same month, she says:--

"O Earth, thou art a lovely place, and some of thy inhabitants are as lovely and happy as thyself. See that beautiful bird, with s.h.i.+ning plumage and brilliant crest, and hear the melodious notes that arise from its silvery throat! Its form proclaims beauty, and its song happiness. See those snow-white lambs skipping over the verdant gra.s.s,--now nestling sportively beside their bleating mothers, then springing forward, bounding from knoll to knoll, and filling the air with strains of joy and delight! See yonder b.u.t.terfly weighing itself upon that brilliant flower: his gorgeous wings are expanded and glittering in the sun like sparkling gems! See those bright-eyed children! their glowing cheeks, their beaming eyes, and above all their clear and merry laugh proclaiming happiness pure and unbounded.

Earth is truly lovely, but its inhabitants are not all happy. Oh no, not _all_, for one who loves the beauties of earth, rejoices in the loveliness of nature, and finds her chief pleasures in the spreading grove, by the babbling brook, among the brilliant flowers, is sad and unhappy. And why? Because she has learned too soon that there is no such thing as [real and abiding] happiness on earth, that the fairest plants wither, that pleasure is a deceitful phantom-false and fleeting. Truly she has learned all this, and will she _never_ learn to raise her eyes to that bright world where true happiness only resides, and to trust meekly in Him who is the only Dispenser of peace and joy?"

Later we have another entry in which, after again referring to the beauties of nature, she exclaims:

"O life, life! I fain would read thy mysteries: I fain would draw aside every vail and behold for what purpose I was created. Was it to be an heir of sorrow? was it to live for myself alone, and then pa.s.s away and let my memory perish with me? No, I was born for a better--a higher and more holy purpose. I was not born to pa.s.s a few moments on the stage of life and then disappear forever.... With a shudder I turn away and would gladly forget to think. O thought, thought! thou wilt distract me,--thou hast almost hurled reason from her throne. Thou bitter tormentor! depart, if but for a moment, and let me once more find peace. But no; the more I seek to elude still nearer the demon pursues. O thought, thought! it rushes forth from my soul like the wild outpourings of the volcanic mountains and overwhelms me with its burning tide till body, mind and soul--all, all are exhausted and lie like a straw upon the roaring bosom of the deep. Oh, that I could arise, mingle with the gay, and forget my own deep and overpowering thoughts. But no; such thoughts, like the soul which gave them birth, can never die. O thought, what art thou? A blessing to angels, a curse to me. Distracted soul, sink into repose: others are happy, and wast thou born to be more wretched than they? Truly thou wast, and why?

Because thou livest only in the regions of thought--_thought_ which is burning my brain and piercing my lacerated heart. And yet a thought freighted with light beams through the dark clouds which its darker sisters have thrown around me, and the only inscription which it bears is, _'Live for others.'_ And another thought follows in rapid succession,--like a far-off echo it repeats the words of its predecessor, 'Live for others,' and then adds (while a vivid flash of the lightning of truth lights up the darkness of error), 'Live for G.o.d and for heaven.' A loud crash follows. Peals of thunder shake the atmosphere of my soul! _Self_ has fallen: _I will live for others, for G.o.d and for heaven._"

This was a grand resolve; but not yet was the soul to be out of prison, the pilgrim to be freed from the Slough of Despond. Once more she has to write:--

"Everything is beautiful, and all nature is glad and rejoicing. Arise, my soul, and be thou glad likewise. Cast off thy gloomy fears. The G.o.d who made all the beautiful things by which thou art surrounded is not unmindful of thee. Oh, wondrous condescension! G.o.d is not forgetful of _me_. He gazes upon me with an eye of compa.s.sion; he pities my distress and my weakness. Amazing love! Oh, that I were more worthy of it; Oh, that I loved him as fervently as I ought! But my heart is callous, and I am nothing but a poor, cold, vile and helpless sinner: nothing but sin _dwells_ hi my heart. It is the seat of every vice, every evil thought, and every depraved pa.s.sion. [Jer. 17:9, 10; Mark 7:21-23]. Dark and gloomy clouds envelope my soul. A weight of sorrow presses upon my heart, and I vainly strive to free myself from its influence. Everything looks dark. 'My G.o.d, my G.o.d, why hast thou forsaken me? why art thou so far from helping me?' 'How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? forever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me?'

'Mine iniquities are gone over my head: as a heavy burden they are too heavy for me. Lord, all my desire is before thee; and my groaning is not hid from thee. Make haste to help me.' 'My soul fainteth for thy salvation, but I hope in thy word.' O my G.o.d, hear my cry, and answer my pet.i.tion."

"_Tuesday_, _June_ 29, 1852. The sultry fires of the day have yielded to the cool breezes of evening. A misty cloud hangs over the once azure sky, and the deep, heavy roar of thunder shakes the quiet air.

Nearer and nearer still it rolls its deep-toned voice, and all nature seems to reply. The vivid lightnings flash. The fountains on high are opened, and the rain pours down in torrents. Wilder grows the storm: the winds are released from their 'prison-cave,' and armed with fury they rush madly forth; brighter the lightnings glare, louder the thunders roar. The whole fabric of nature seems in commotion! Oh, who can gaze upon such a scene without emotions of awe, wonder and admiration? Surely such an one must possess a stony heart and a cold nature. There is beauty for me in the lightning's glare--there is music in the thunder's peal! G.o.d grant that there may be beauty and glory for me in the day when the thundering notes of the last trumpet shall shake the heavens and awaken the sleeping dead,--when 'the elements shall melt with fervent heat,' and every soul of every tribe, and tongue and nation shall stand before the judgment-seat to receive their final doom! O grant that the Judge may be my friend, and that I--the poorest, the lowest, the vilest of sinners--may find a seat at his right hand; and the vaults of heaven shall forever ring with the praises of a redeemed sinner, saved only through the grace and blood of the crucified Saviour."

But the hour was at hand when there was to come such relief to the troubled soul as it had never before experienced,--when the divine Comforter was to take of the things of Christ and reveal them to the longing heart,--and this maiden avow herself before the world a disciple of Christ. How was this to be effected?

Sunday, July 25, I had an appointment to preach in Magog, and after the forenoon service expected to baptize a young lady who had been a schoolmate of Miss JOHNSON. In view of that arrangement I urged that they should both go together in the ordinance, but could get no encouragement that it would be so. We went to the church, where I preached from Col. 3:1-4, and after sermon announced the hymn,--

"Gracious Lord, incline thine ear, My request vouchsafe to hear; Burdened with my sins, I cry, Give me Christ, or else I die.

Father, thou hast given thy Son, Bruised for sins--that I have done; To that refuge now I fly; Christ is mine--I shall not die."

The effect and what followed I will allow her to relate in her own words:--

"Oh, the _agony_ and the _perfect peace_ that I have this day enjoyed!

The agony in the morning was almost insupportable. It seemed then utterly impossible for me to take up so heavy a cross as to follow my Saviour in the ordinance of baptism. The very thought was dreadful, and yet I knew that it was my duty. I felt that the anger of G.o.d would be kindled against me,--that his Holy Spirit would not always strive with me. I threw myself upon my knees; but could find no peace there as long as I continued proudly obstinate. I started from my knees and seized 'the holy Book of G.o.d'; but there was nothing there to comfort me. I paced the room hurriedly, at every step exclaiming, 'What shall I do?' and yet I knew what to do, but would not do it. Thus the morning pa.s.sed away, and trembling with emotion I entered the house of G.o.d. The sermon seemed designed expressly for me. At its close I grew more agitated. The last hymn was read, and after singing we were to repair to the water, where one happy being was to follow her blessed Saviour into a watery grave. Oh, I shall never forget that hymn,-- never, no never. The closing line of each verse seemed as an echo from my own heart, 'Give me Christ or else I die'; but as the last line of the last verse fell upon my ear--_'Christ is mine. I shall not die_,"

--I think that then I did truly feel determined to come boldly forth and claim the precious promises of G.o.d _as my own_.

"We sought the water's side, when Josephine asked me in a trembling voice if I would be baptized. I thought she expected an answer in the negative--at least I knew that she might reasonably expect it, for I had told her plainly in the morning that I could not. My heart was too full to speak: I only bowed my head in token of a.s.sent. I shall never forget the look of joy that beamed in her countenance, nor the emotions that filled my own bosom. I saw Eliza enter the water. Oh, glorious sight! I never saw, never imagined so beautiful a scene.

Every fear vanished, every cloud withdrew from my soul, and I _longed_ to enter the waving flood. O my Saviour! I did not enter it alone. Surely it was nothing short of the almighty arm of G.o.d that supported me then. I never in all my life had so little fear of man: I had _no fear_ then. Truly it was a foretaste of heaven. Oh, happy, thrice happy moment! it was worth a whole lifetime of sorrow. If I could always feel as I did then my heart would never again be bowed down with grief: but that very afternoon Satan began to whisper: 'You will not live up to your profession; you have deceived yourself and others; you are still a wicked creature; you are not a Christian'; and yet by the grace of G.o.d I was able, in some degree at least, to resist him.

"When I partook of the Lord's supper I felt a repet.i.tion of the happiness I had while obeying the command of my Saviour and following him into a watery grave. How vividly the last supper which Christ partook of with his disciples presented itself to my mind! and then I looked forward with joyful hope to the day when all the saints of G.o.d shall eat bread in his glorious kingdom,--when all of every age and clime shall be gathered around the table, and Jesus Christ himself be in their midst. It was a soul-inspiring thought, and for all the wealth of a thousand worlds like this I would not have been absent from that communion--from which I had so often absented myself. Yes; I had never before partaken of the Lord's supper; and it was my own wicked heart which had kept me away, for G.o.d had called loudly upon me, and his Holy Spirit had again and again striven with me. Oh, what a sinner I have been, and what a longsuffering G.o.d! I wonder that he did not cast me off forever. Oh, what mercy I 'Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits.' And now, have I forsaken all for Christ? Have I thrown myself--body, soul, and spirit--upon the altar? I do want to sacrifice everything for Christ, and _by the grace of G.o.d_ I will perform the following:--

"1. When my duty appears plain I will do it, whatever may be the consequences.

"2. I will never be ashamed to confess Christ before the world.

"3. I will consecrate my talents entirely to the Lord.

"4. I will never employ my pen in writing anything which I might regret at the bar of G.o.d.

"5. I will never permit any one of my compositions to be printed unless I can in sincerity ask the blessing of G.o.d to attend it.

"6. As I shall be brought into judgment for every idle word I say, I will endeavor never to engage in trifling conversation, but on every proper occasion to speak of the wondrous grace of G.o.d.

"7. I will, whenever a good opportunity occurs, warn my young companions to flee from the wrath to come.

"8. I will strive to set my affections on things above, not on things on the earth.

"9. By the a.s.sistance of the Holy Spirit I will endeavor to keep evil thoughts out of my heart, and to meditate upon the law of G.o.d.

"10. I will never pa.s.s a day without seeking some secret place at least twice a day, and pouring out my soul in prayer to G.o.d.

"11. I will study the Holy Scriptures, and endeavor to understand what I read.