Stepping Heavenward [121]
health when so many others of her age are full of animal life and vigor but stands in her lot and place doing what she can, suffering what she must, with a meekness that makes her lovely in my eyes, and that I am sure unites her closely to Christ.
JUNE 27 .-It was Raymond's turn to stay with me today. He opened his heart to me more freely than he had ever done before.
"Mamma," he began, "if papa is willing, I have made up my mind-that is to say if I get decently good-to go on a mission."
I said playfully:
"And mamma's consent is not to be asked ?"
"No," he said, "getting hold of what there is left of my hand. "I know you wouldn't say a word. Don't you remember telling me once when I was a little boy that I might go and welcome?"
"And don't you remember," I returned, "that you cried for joy, and then relieved your mind still farther by walking on your hands with your feet in the air?"
We both laughed heartily at this remembrance, and then I said:
"My dear boy, you know your fathers plan for you?"
"Yes, I know he expects me to study with him, and take his place in the world."
"And it is a very important place."
His countenance fell as he fancied I was not entering heartily into his wishes.
"Dear Raymond," I went on, "I gave you to God long before you gave yourself to Him. If He can make you useful in your own, or in other lands, I bless His name. Whether I live to see you a man, or not, I hope you will work in the Lord's vineyard, wherever He calls. I never asked anything but usefulness, in all my prayers for you; never once. His eyes filled with tears; he kissed me and walked away to the window to compose himself. My poor, dear, lovable, loving boy! He has all his mother's trials and struggles to contend with ;but what matter it if they bring him the same peace?
JUNE 30.--Everybody wonders to see me once more interested in my long-closed Journal, and becoming able to see the dear friends from whom I have been, in a measure cut off. We cannot ask the meaning of this remarkable increase of strength.
I have no wish to choose. But I have come to the last page of my Journal, and living or dying, shall write in this volume no more. It closes upon a life of much childishness and great sinfulness, whose record makes me blush with shame but I no longer need to relieve my heart with seeking sympathy in its unconscious pages nor do I believe it well to go on analyzing it as I have done. I have had large experience of both joy and sorrow; I have the nakedness and the emptiness and I have seen the beauty and sweetness of life. What I say now, let me say to Jesus What time and strength I used to spend in writing here, let me spend in praying for all men, for all sufferers who are out of the way, for all whom I love. And their name is Legion for I love everybody.
Yes I love everybody! That crowning joy has come to me at last. Christ is in my soul; He is mine; I am as conscious of it as that my husband and children are mine; and His Spirit flows from mine in the calm peace of a river whose banks are green with grass and glad with flowers. If I die it will be to leave a wearied and worn body, and a sinful soul to go joyfully to be with Christ, to weary and to sin no more. If I live, I shall find much blessed work to do for Him. So living or dying I shall be the Lord's.
But I wish, oh how earnestly, that whether I go or stay, I could inspire some lives with the joy that is now mine. For many years I have been rich in faith; rich in an unfaltering confidence that I was beloved of my God and Saviour. But something was wanting I was ever groping for a mysterious grace the want of which made me often sorrowful in the very midst of my most sacred joy, imperfect when I most longed for perfection. It was that personal love to Christ of which my precious mother so often spoke to me which she often urged me to seek upon my knees. If I had known then, as I know now what this priceless treasure could be to a sinful human soul, I would have sold all that I had to buy the field wherein it lay hidden. But
JUNE 27 .-It was Raymond's turn to stay with me today. He opened his heart to me more freely than he had ever done before.
"Mamma," he began, "if papa is willing, I have made up my mind-that is to say if I get decently good-to go on a mission."
I said playfully:
"And mamma's consent is not to be asked ?"
"No," he said, "getting hold of what there is left of my hand. "I know you wouldn't say a word. Don't you remember telling me once when I was a little boy that I might go and welcome?"
"And don't you remember," I returned, "that you cried for joy, and then relieved your mind still farther by walking on your hands with your feet in the air?"
We both laughed heartily at this remembrance, and then I said:
"My dear boy, you know your fathers plan for you?"
"Yes, I know he expects me to study with him, and take his place in the world."
"And it is a very important place."
His countenance fell as he fancied I was not entering heartily into his wishes.
"Dear Raymond," I went on, "I gave you to God long before you gave yourself to Him. If He can make you useful in your own, or in other lands, I bless His name. Whether I live to see you a man, or not, I hope you will work in the Lord's vineyard, wherever He calls. I never asked anything but usefulness, in all my prayers for you; never once. His eyes filled with tears; he kissed me and walked away to the window to compose himself. My poor, dear, lovable, loving boy! He has all his mother's trials and struggles to contend with ;but what matter it if they bring him the same peace?
JUNE 30.--Everybody wonders to see me once more interested in my long-closed Journal, and becoming able to see the dear friends from whom I have been, in a measure cut off. We cannot ask the meaning of this remarkable increase of strength.
I have no wish to choose. But I have come to the last page of my Journal, and living or dying, shall write in this volume no more. It closes upon a life of much childishness and great sinfulness, whose record makes me blush with shame but I no longer need to relieve my heart with seeking sympathy in its unconscious pages nor do I believe it well to go on analyzing it as I have done. I have had large experience of both joy and sorrow; I have the nakedness and the emptiness and I have seen the beauty and sweetness of life. What I say now, let me say to Jesus What time and strength I used to spend in writing here, let me spend in praying for all men, for all sufferers who are out of the way, for all whom I love. And their name is Legion for I love everybody.
Yes I love everybody! That crowning joy has come to me at last. Christ is in my soul; He is mine; I am as conscious of it as that my husband and children are mine; and His Spirit flows from mine in the calm peace of a river whose banks are green with grass and glad with flowers. If I die it will be to leave a wearied and worn body, and a sinful soul to go joyfully to be with Christ, to weary and to sin no more. If I live, I shall find much blessed work to do for Him. So living or dying I shall be the Lord's.
But I wish, oh how earnestly, that whether I go or stay, I could inspire some lives with the joy that is now mine. For many years I have been rich in faith; rich in an unfaltering confidence that I was beloved of my God and Saviour. But something was wanting I was ever groping for a mysterious grace the want of which made me often sorrowful in the very midst of my most sacred joy, imperfect when I most longed for perfection. It was that personal love to Christ of which my precious mother so often spoke to me which she often urged me to seek upon my knees. If I had known then, as I know now what this priceless treasure could be to a sinful human soul, I would have sold all that I had to buy the field wherein it lay hidden. But