Stepping Heavenward [112]
been returned to us after we had given her away to God.
And as the giving cost us ten-fold more now than it did when she was a feeble baby, so we receive her as a fresh gift from our loving Father's hand, with ten-fold delight. Ah, we have no excuse for not giving ourselves entirely to Him. He has revealed Himself to us in so many sorrows and in so many joys; revealed Himself as He doth not unto the world!
Chapter 26
XXVI.
MAY 13.-THIS has been a Sunday to be held in long remembrance. We were summoned early this morning to Mrs. Campbell, and have seen her joyful release from the fetters that have bound her long. Her loss to me is irreparable. But I truly thank God that one more tired traveler had a sweet "welcome home." I can minister no longer to her bodily wants, and listen to her counsels no more, but she has entered as an inspiration into my life, and through all eternity I shall bless God that He gave me that faithful, praying friend. How little they know who languish in what seems useless sick-rooms, or amid the restrictions of frail health, what work they do for Christ by the power of saintly living, and by even fragmentary prayers.
Before her words fade out of my memory I want to write down, from hasty notes made at the time, her answer to some of the last questions I asked her on earth. She had always enjoyed intervals of comparative ease, and it was in one of these that I asked her what she conceived to be the characteristics of an advanced state of grace. She replied, "I think that the mature Christian is always, at all times, and in all circumstances, what he was in his best moments in the progressive stages of his life. There were seasons, all along his course, when he loved God supremely; when he embraced the cross joyfully and penitently; when he held intimate communion with Christ, and loved his neighbor as himself But he was always in terror, lest under the force of temptation, all this should give place to deadness and dullness, when he should chafe and rebel in the hour of trial, and judge his fellow-man with a harsh and bitter judgment, and give way to angry, passionate emotions. But these fluctuations cease, after a time, to disturb his peace. Love to Christ becomes the abiding, inmost principle of his life; he loves Him rather for what He is, than for what He has done or will do for him individually, and God's honor becomes so dear to him that he feels personally wounded when that is called in question. And the will of God becomes so dear to him that he loves it best when it 'triumphs at his cost.'
"Once he only prayed at set times and seasons, and idolized good frames and fervent emotions. N9w he prays without ceasing, and whether on the mount or down in the depths depends wholly upon His Saviour.
"His old self-confidence has now given place to child-like humility that will not let him take a step alone, and the sweet peace that is now habitual to him combined with the sense of his own imperfections, fills him with love to. his fellow-man. He hears and believes and hopes and endures all things and thinketh no evil. The tones of his voice, the very expression of his countenance, become changed, love now controlling where human passions held sway. In short, he is not only a new creature in Jesus Christ, but the habitual and blessed consciousness that this is so.
These words were spoken deliberately and with reflection.
"You have described my mother, just as she was from the moment her only son, the last of six, was taken from her," I said, at last. "I never quite understood how that final sorrow weaned her, so to say, from herself, and made her life all love to God and all love to man. But I see it now. Dear Mrs. Campbell, pray for me that I may yet wear her mantle!"
She smiled with a significance that said she had already done so, and then we parted-parted that she might end her pilgrimage and go to her rest-parted that I might pursue mine, I know not how long, nor amid how many cares, and sorrows, nor with what weariness and heart-sickness-parted to meet again in the
And as the giving cost us ten-fold more now than it did when she was a feeble baby, so we receive her as a fresh gift from our loving Father's hand, with ten-fold delight. Ah, we have no excuse for not giving ourselves entirely to Him. He has revealed Himself to us in so many sorrows and in so many joys; revealed Himself as He doth not unto the world!
Chapter 26
XXVI.
MAY 13.-THIS has been a Sunday to be held in long remembrance. We were summoned early this morning to Mrs. Campbell, and have seen her joyful release from the fetters that have bound her long. Her loss to me is irreparable. But I truly thank God that one more tired traveler had a sweet "welcome home." I can minister no longer to her bodily wants, and listen to her counsels no more, but she has entered as an inspiration into my life, and through all eternity I shall bless God that He gave me that faithful, praying friend. How little they know who languish in what seems useless sick-rooms, or amid the restrictions of frail health, what work they do for Christ by the power of saintly living, and by even fragmentary prayers.
Before her words fade out of my memory I want to write down, from hasty notes made at the time, her answer to some of the last questions I asked her on earth. She had always enjoyed intervals of comparative ease, and it was in one of these that I asked her what she conceived to be the characteristics of an advanced state of grace. She replied, "I think that the mature Christian is always, at all times, and in all circumstances, what he was in his best moments in the progressive stages of his life. There were seasons, all along his course, when he loved God supremely; when he embraced the cross joyfully and penitently; when he held intimate communion with Christ, and loved his neighbor as himself But he was always in terror, lest under the force of temptation, all this should give place to deadness and dullness, when he should chafe and rebel in the hour of trial, and judge his fellow-man with a harsh and bitter judgment, and give way to angry, passionate emotions. But these fluctuations cease, after a time, to disturb his peace. Love to Christ becomes the abiding, inmost principle of his life; he loves Him rather for what He is, than for what He has done or will do for him individually, and God's honor becomes so dear to him that he feels personally wounded when that is called in question. And the will of God becomes so dear to him that he loves it best when it 'triumphs at his cost.'
"Once he only prayed at set times and seasons, and idolized good frames and fervent emotions. N9w he prays without ceasing, and whether on the mount or down in the depths depends wholly upon His Saviour.
"His old self-confidence has now given place to child-like humility that will not let him take a step alone, and the sweet peace that is now habitual to him combined with the sense of his own imperfections, fills him with love to. his fellow-man. He hears and believes and hopes and endures all things and thinketh no evil. The tones of his voice, the very expression of his countenance, become changed, love now controlling where human passions held sway. In short, he is not only a new creature in Jesus Christ, but the habitual and blessed consciousness that this is so.
These words were spoken deliberately and with reflection.
"You have described my mother, just as she was from the moment her only son, the last of six, was taken from her," I said, at last. "I never quite understood how that final sorrow weaned her, so to say, from herself, and made her life all love to God and all love to man. But I see it now. Dear Mrs. Campbell, pray for me that I may yet wear her mantle!"
She smiled with a significance that said she had already done so, and then we parted-parted that she might end her pilgrimage and go to her rest-parted that I might pursue mine, I know not how long, nor amid how many cares, and sorrows, nor with what weariness and heart-sickness-parted to meet again in the