Stepping Heavenward [28]
to such self-denying work as visiting the poor, nursing the sick, giving of your time and money to the needy, and the like.
"If the thought of such self-denial is repugnant to you, remember that it is enough for the disciple to be as his Lord. And let me assure you that as you penetrate the labyrinth of life in pursuit of Christian duty, you will often be surprised and charmed by meeting your Master Himself amid its windings and turnings, and receive His soul-inspiring smile. Or, I should rather say, you will always meet Him wherever you go."
I have read this letter again and again. It has taken such hold of me that I can think of nothing else. The idea of seeking holiness had never so much as crossed my mind. And even now it seems like presumption for such a one as I to utter so sacred a word. And I shrink from committing myself to such a pursuit, lest after a time I should fall back into the old routine. And I have an undefined, wicked dread of being singular, as well as a certain terror of self-denial and loss of all liberty. But no choice seems left to me. Now that my duty has been clearly pointed out to me, I do not stand where I did before. And I feel, mingled with my indolence and love of ease and pleasure, some drawings towards a higher and better life. There is one thing I can do, and that is to pray that Jesus would do for me what He did for the blind man-put His hands yet again upon my eyes and make me to see clearly. And I will.
MARCH, 30.-Yes, I have prayed, and He has heard me. I see that I have no right to live for myself, and that I must live for. Him. I have given myself to Him as I never did before, and have entered, as it were, a new world. I was very happy when I began to believe in His love for me, and that He had redeemed me. But this new happiness is deeper; it involves something higher than getting to heaven at last, which has, hitherto, been my great aim.
March 31.-The more I pray, and the more I read the Bible, the more I feel my ignorance. And the more earnestly I desire holiness, the more utterly unholy I see myself to be. But I have pledged myself to the Lord, and I must pay my vows, cost what in may.
I have begun to read Taylor's "Holy Living and Dying." A month ago I should have found it a tedious, dry book. But I am reading it with a sort of avidity, like one seeking after hid treasure. Mother, observing what I was doing, advised me to read it straight through, but to mingle a passage now and then with chapters from other books. She suggested my beginning on Baxter's "Saints' Rest," and of that I have read every word. I shall read it over, as Dr. Cabot advised, till I have fully caught its spirit. Even this one reading has taken away my lingering fear of death, and made heaven awfully attractive. I never mean to read worldly books again, and my music and drawing I have given up forever.
Chapter 7
VII.
Mother asked me last evening to sing and play to her. I was embarrassed to know how to excuse myself without telling her my real reason for declining. But somehow she got it out of me.
"One need not be fanatical in order to be religious," she said.
"Is it fanatical to give up all for God?" I asked.
"What is it to give up all?" she asked, in reply.
"Why, to deny one's self every gratification and indulgence in order to mortify one's natural inclinations, and to live entirely for Him."
"God is then a hard Master, who allows his children no liberty," she replied. "Now let us see where this theory will lead you. In. the first place you must shut your eyes to all the beautiful things He has made. You must shut your eyes to all the harmonies He has ordained. You must shut your heart against all sweet human affections. You have a body, it is true, and it may revolt at such bondage--"
We are told to keep under the body," I interrupted.
"Oh, mother, don't hinder me! You know my love for music is. a passion and that it is my snare and temptation. And how can I spend my whole time in reading the Bible and praying, if I go on with my drawing? It may do for
"If the thought of such self-denial is repugnant to you, remember that it is enough for the disciple to be as his Lord. And let me assure you that as you penetrate the labyrinth of life in pursuit of Christian duty, you will often be surprised and charmed by meeting your Master Himself amid its windings and turnings, and receive His soul-inspiring smile. Or, I should rather say, you will always meet Him wherever you go."
I have read this letter again and again. It has taken such hold of me that I can think of nothing else. The idea of seeking holiness had never so much as crossed my mind. And even now it seems like presumption for such a one as I to utter so sacred a word. And I shrink from committing myself to such a pursuit, lest after a time I should fall back into the old routine. And I have an undefined, wicked dread of being singular, as well as a certain terror of self-denial and loss of all liberty. But no choice seems left to me. Now that my duty has been clearly pointed out to me, I do not stand where I did before. And I feel, mingled with my indolence and love of ease and pleasure, some drawings towards a higher and better life. There is one thing I can do, and that is to pray that Jesus would do for me what He did for the blind man-put His hands yet again upon my eyes and make me to see clearly. And I will.
MARCH, 30.-Yes, I have prayed, and He has heard me. I see that I have no right to live for myself, and that I must live for. Him. I have given myself to Him as I never did before, and have entered, as it were, a new world. I was very happy when I began to believe in His love for me, and that He had redeemed me. But this new happiness is deeper; it involves something higher than getting to heaven at last, which has, hitherto, been my great aim.
March 31.-The more I pray, and the more I read the Bible, the more I feel my ignorance. And the more earnestly I desire holiness, the more utterly unholy I see myself to be. But I have pledged myself to the Lord, and I must pay my vows, cost what in may.
I have begun to read Taylor's "Holy Living and Dying." A month ago I should have found it a tedious, dry book. But I am reading it with a sort of avidity, like one seeking after hid treasure. Mother, observing what I was doing, advised me to read it straight through, but to mingle a passage now and then with chapters from other books. She suggested my beginning on Baxter's "Saints' Rest," and of that I have read every word. I shall read it over, as Dr. Cabot advised, till I have fully caught its spirit. Even this one reading has taken away my lingering fear of death, and made heaven awfully attractive. I never mean to read worldly books again, and my music and drawing I have given up forever.
Chapter 7
VII.
Mother asked me last evening to sing and play to her. I was embarrassed to know how to excuse myself without telling her my real reason for declining. But somehow she got it out of me.
"One need not be fanatical in order to be religious," she said.
"Is it fanatical to give up all for God?" I asked.
"What is it to give up all?" she asked, in reply.
"Why, to deny one's self every gratification and indulgence in order to mortify one's natural inclinations, and to live entirely for Him."
"God is then a hard Master, who allows his children no liberty," she replied. "Now let us see where this theory will lead you. In. the first place you must shut your eyes to all the beautiful things He has made. You must shut your eyes to all the harmonies He has ordained. You must shut your heart against all sweet human affections. You have a body, it is true, and it may revolt at such bondage--"
We are told to keep under the body," I interrupted.
"Oh, mother, don't hinder me! You know my love for music is. a passion and that it is my snare and temptation. And how can I spend my whole time in reading the Bible and praying, if I go on with my drawing? It may do for