of its necessity, or of its truthfulness. I feel, however, such a
burden of guilt on my conscience, for having uttered so many hard
things against the Redeemer and his great salvation, and feel so
oppressed by a sense of unparalleled unworthiness, that I seem more
inclined to endure the chastening of the Lord, than venture to
implore the exercise of his pardoning love and mercy."
"You are, it is true, unworthy, but not unwelcome; unworthy, but not
unfit: for
'All the fitness he requireth,
Is to _feel_ your need of him.
How simple! Believe, and be saved; come to me, and I will give you
rest."
"Yes, Sir, the plan of salvation is both simple and suited; but
these attributes of its character stagger and perplex me."
"How so, Madam?"
"It appears more consonant to the awful majesty of Divine justice
to demand from me some costly sacrifice--to call upon me to endure
some severe privations and sufferings, as the condition of pardon
and acceptance, rather than to offer them freely and gratuitously.
I ought, I think, to suffer some extreme and prolonged infliction,
before I ought to cherish a hope of salvation."
"That is true; but, as the apostle says, 'By grace are ye saved
through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God;
not of works, lest any man should boast' (Eph. ii. 8, 9)."
"I feel thankful that I am not now what I was yesterday--a proud and
haughty sceptic; looking with scornful contempt on the Bible--on the
Sabbath, and its public services--and on all who make a profession
of love to Jesus Christ; but I dare not lay claim to the spiritual
blessings which God graciously bestows on his redeemed and renovated
people. I hope in his mercy, and pray for its manifestations to my
guilty conscience, but I cannot do more; indeed, at times, I tremble
while cherishing a hope in his mercy, lest I should add the sin of
presumption, to the many other sins I have committed against him."
We now closed the interview by reading the Scriptures and prayer;
and then returned, devoutly thankful to the God of salvation for
what we had seen and heard.
In this state of agitating uncertainty, as to the final issue of
her hopes and her fears, Mrs. Farrington continued, as Mr. Annesley
afterwards informed me, for several months, suffering at times
intense remorse, and often strongly tempted to abandon herself to
despair. But by a patient continuance in the study of the Bible and
listening to the ministry of the Word, in meditation and in prayer,
she felt in process of time the sacred power of the promise of mercy
and grace; tasted that the Lord is gracious, and eventually had hope
and peace in believing; living through life in the fear of God, and
giving a practical exemplification of the truth of the apostolic
declaration, that "the grace of God that bringeth salvation,
teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should
live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world; looking
for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God
and our Saviour Jesus Christ; who gave himself for us, that he might
redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar
people, zealous of good works" (Titus ii. 11-14).
The conversion of this lady to the Christian faith, after having
signalized herself for many years by her unceasing hostility to it,
is a very strong evidence in confirmation of its Divine origin. What
human power could have effected such a moral renovation as that
which was produced while she was listening to this sermon by Mr.
Annesley? She anticipated no such a change, nor did she desire it.
In the sermon, which curiosity prompted her to hear, there was no
concentration of argument to carry conviction to her judgment--no
outbursts of eloquence--nor any decorations of style, to impress her
feelings or attract her taste, but merely an interrogation, and that
one of the most simple. From whence, then, came the all-powerful
energy by which her haughty spirit was made to quail before the
truth, which she had so long stigmatized as a cunningly devised
fable? Whence, unless from Him who can easily subdue all things
to himself; and whose spiritual triumphs are often graced by the
spontaneous submission of his most malignant enemies; thus turning a
prophetic announcement into an historic fact--"Thy people shall be
willing in the day of thy power."
A PARTY AT THE ELMS.
I must now request the courteous reader to return with me to
Mr. Holmes and his family, at the Elms, where, as it will be
recollected, we left Louisa, the eldest daughter, in a state of
great mental perplexity, though somewhat soothed by the judicious
letter of her worthy friend Mrs. Loader. It will also be remembered
that Louisa had addressed a second letter to the latter, detailing
further her career of Christian experience, and asking additional
advice and assistance as to her future course.[22]
[22] Vol. ii. p. 177.
According to annual custom, a large party dined at the Elms,
consisting principally of Mr. Holmes' old city friends, who came
to enjoy a day in the country, and have a talk over the events
of former times. They had all sprung from an obscure origin--had
commenced to push their fortunes in London about the same time--and
were now in the possession of considerable wealth. The party
dined early. When the cloth was removed, the worthy host said he
would give a toast, which he hoped the ladies would respond to as
well as the gentlemen, though he admitted he ought to apologize
for attempting to revive a practice which was now becoming
obsolete--"Prosperity to the citizens of London; and may they ever
express their gratitude to God, by supporting the institutions of
benevolence." This toast having been duly honoured, the ladies
withdrew, leaving the gentlemen to their debates and discussions.
Miss Holmes proposed a walk--a proposal which the ladies and young
people gladly fell in with. It was a fine tranquil evening, at the
close of one of those beautiful days which frequently occur in
this country in the month of October. The sun was sinking in a sea
of crimson and gold, behind a finely wooded hill to the west, and
throwing his rich amber light through the foliage of the pleasure
ground in which the party was now sauntering. Everything tended to
soothe and tranquillize the mind, while not a sound could be heard,
but the rustling of the autumn leaves beneath the feet, or their
fall as the branches vibrated in the almost imperceptible evening
breeze.
Among the young people composing the party that day at the Elms,
was Miss Martin, an intimate friend of Miss Holmes, and decidedly
religious, but between whom and Louisa there had hitherto been
but little sympathy on this subject. Without possessing the years
and experience of Mrs. Loader, she nevertheless possessed an
affectionate disposition, with a fund of sterling good sense, and
was thus well qualified to impart consolation to the agitated and
distressed mind of her friend. Louisa felt her heart gradually
lightened as she conversed with Miss Martin; and the two ladies,
walking on together a little in advance, got engaged in so
interesting a discussion, that they soon lost sight of the younger
members of the party, who had set off to amuse themselves in another
direction. Louisa now recollected that she had promised a Bible
the day before to an old woman in the neighbourhood, and invited
Miss Martin to accompany her with it there--a proposal to which her
friend gladly acceded. They accordingly proceeded down a narrow
path which led from the shrubbery to a retired country road. They
then walked along a short distance till they came to a neat cottage,
at the door of which they gently tapped. It was opened by the old
woman, Mrs. Kent, who invited them to walk in and sit down. They
readily consented, and spent there a most interesting hour.
"I feel deeply obliged, ladies," said Mrs. Kent, "by your kindness
in fetching me this Bible. It is indeed a treasure. A large printed
Bible like this is just what I have long been wishing to procure,
as my eyes are become so dim I cannot see to read this small print"
(exhibiting a Bible which bore the marks of age).
"I am very glad, indeed, that you are pleased with it," replied
Louisa, "and I trust you may long be spared in health to enjoy its
stores."
"I have great reason to be thankful to God for the health he has
given me. I am in his hand--he doeth all things well."
"You have really a pretty cottage here," said Miss Martin, "and it
is very tastefully adorned. Have you lived here many years?"
"About twenty years. I was turned out of the cottage I lived in
before, by Lord Harwood's steward, because I would not give up my
religion; but the Lord opened the heart of a good man who lives in
the village, and he built this little cottage for me, and I have
lived here rent free ever since."
"How long may it be since you first knew the Lord?"
"More than forty years. I was, when young, a very thoughtless girl,
and took great delight in vain pleasures; but the Lord was pleased,
blessed be his name, to call me to a knowledge of the truth, and to
love and serve him, when I was about your age."
"And you are not weary of his service?"
"Weary of his service!" said the venerable matron, her eyes
sparkling as with youthful ardour--"no, Miss, though I often wonder
that the Lord is not weary of me, as I am such an unprofitable
servant."
"Then after forty years' experience, you can bear testimony to
the truth of what Solomon says of religion: 'Her ways are ways of
pleasantness, and all her paths are peace?'"
[Illustration: JAMES GODWIN.
W. L. THOMAS.
MISS HOLMES AND MISS MARTIN TAKING LEAVE OF MRS. KENT.
Vol. ii. p. 299.]
"That I can. I have been a widow five and twenty years. I have
outlived all my children but one, and I have not seen him for more
than sixteen years. I have had many troubles, but the Lord has
brought me through them all. He has given me a spirit of resignation
and contentment, and I can say, Let him do with me as seemeth good
in his sight. He is too wise to err."
"Then you don't envy the rich and the noble?"
"No, Miss, I envy no one. If the rich have comforts that I have not,
they have cares and temptations, from which I am protected. May the
Lord incline you, my young friends, to seek him in your youth, and
then you will find a treasure which is of more value than thousands
of gold and silver."
"I hope he has inclined us to seek him," said Miss Holmes; "and as
you have known him so many years, I shall be happy to come and visit
you, that you may teach me the way of the Lord more perfectly."
"I shall be glad to see you at any time, if you will condescend to
come and see me; but it is not in my power to teach you. The prophet
says, 'All thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall
be the peace of thy children.'"
"I will soon come back again and have a long chat. Good night."
"Good night, ladies. May the Lord bless you."
"She is a dear old woman," said Miss Martin. "I have quite fallen in
love with her."
"Yes, my dear Mary, she is one of the Lord's hidden jewels, set
apart for himself. I am very glad to have made her acquaintance, but
I confess that I neglected to do this till the other day, though I
had often seen her knitting on the seat in front of her cottage as I
passed by."
The two friends now re-entered the avenue, and, taking a by-path,
ascended a little rising ground, which commanded a fine view of
the surrounding country. "How delightful it is, Louisa," said Miss
Martin, "to get a day's excursion away from the bustle and smoke of
London. What a beautiful landscape you have here--that venerable
church tower rising in the distance among the trees, and that fine
old mansion at the foot of the hill, with the deer feeding in the
park in front; and see what a pretty object Mrs. Kent's cottage
makes, when seen through this vista in the trees."
"It is certainly a beautiful prospect, Mary. I often come here
to contemplate it. I made a sketch the other day of Mrs. Kent's
cottage, which I shall show you when we get into the house. It is
both a picturesque object when viewed from a distance, and loses
none of its attractions on a near approach. She has displayed great
taste in the way she has disposed the evergreens and flowers around
it. But its chief glory is within."
"Very true, my dear Louisa. It is a sacred spot--often visited by
unseen messengers, when they come to earth on errands of mercy.
Strangers would pass by, and admire only the neatness of its
external appearance, but we have seen its concealed beauties."
"I was quite delighted," said Miss Holmes, "with the first visit
I paid her. She certainly possesses a very cultivated mind for a
person in her station. She has been a great reader in her time, but
now her favourite study is divinity, and the Bible is her text-book.
She gave me some particulars of her history. Her life has been a
chequered one. I was quite taken with the artless simplicity of her
conversation, and with the ease, I may almost say elegance, of her
manners. I shall certainly often stroll to her cottage for a chat;
and you must come here again soon, and pay her another visit along
with me."
"I am glad, my dear, that you are partial to her," replied Miss
Martin. I shall be delighted to accompany you again to Mrs. Kent's.
I hope you will often visit her. You will derive, I have no doubt,
much spiritual benefit from her conversation. There is nothing
which so polishes and refines the character as the influence of
religion. It improves the taste, without making it fastidious;
enlarges the intellect, without engendering vanity; softens and
sweetens the temper; and inspires a consciousness of individual
worth and importance, while at the same time it pays a respectful
regard to the laws and customs which prevail in society. Hence a
Christian appears as dignified in a cottage as in a mansion; and
living comparatively disengaged from the temptations of the world,
he is more at liberty to commune with the Redeemer, by which he
imperceptibly receives a more perfect impression of his image."
"But do you think, Mary, that every Christian exemplifies the
correctness of your remarks?"
"No, my dear. Some do not feel the influence of religion till late
in life, when their taste has been vitiated, their habits formed,
and their tempers set; and though it will correct some of the evils
which they may have contracted, yet it rarely happens that their
character receives such an amount of refinement as it would have
done, had they felt its transforming power at an earlier period."
Just at this moment they were startled by a deep groan, that came
from the wood near which they were standing, and on running to
afford some assistance to the supposed sufferer, Miss Holmes beheld
her facetious sister Emma, with a group of young friends, attempting
to conceal themselves, but who burst out into loud laughter when
they were discovered.
"What's the matter, girls?"
"Nothing, ladies; O nothing!" said Lucy Cooper, with a suppressed
smile.
"We were afraid, from the groan we heard, that some one had been
hurt, or was suddenly taken ill."
"It was only Emma, feigning illness, to disturb you in your grave
musings."
"O! Emma, I wonder how you could be so foolish! I am glad, however,
that there is nothing the matter; and I do not regret having been
disturbed, as it appears to have contributed to your mirth."
"We have just been seeing Mrs. Kent," said Emma, "and she told us
that you, and I suppose Miss Martin, had been there."
"O what a lovely place!" exclaimed several voices.
"How I should like to live in that beautiful cottage!" said a little
girl; "I wish grandpapa would buy such a one for me."
"The old lady," said another, "was looking over the Bible you gave
her when we tapped at the door, and she rose and received us with as
much grace and ease as though she had been a duchess. She appears to
be a very contented, nice old woman, and seems to be very religious
in her way. Is she not, Emma?"
"Yes, she is."
"Aye, she is at a good age to become religious, and she has nothing
else to engage her attention. I should like to have another talk
with her."
"We shall be happy to see you, Lucy, at any time," said Miss Holmes;
"and I think both you and Emma would be all the better for a few
lessons of staidness and sobriety from Mrs. Kent."
"O yes, I know I should; but as my propensity is to be religious, I
must check it, or I shall get quite unhappy. It won't do for me to
associate much with such devout people. I shall be sure to catch the
infection, from my natural habit of imitation."
Miss Holmes would have made some reply, but the appearance of her
brothers, and some of the gentlemen from the house, put a stop to
further conversation.
"Come, ladies," one of them exclaimed, "where have you been rambling
to all this time? We thought we had lost you. You have forgotten how
late it is, and we must be off for town in an hour or two."
The youthful party, thus summoned, hastened to the house, where,
after partaking of tea, the guests prepared to depart, just as the
moon began to rise. The family then being left alone, drew their
seats round the fire for a few minutes before they retired to rest,
and began to talk over the incidents of the day.
"This has been a very happy day," said Mr. Holmes; "for though our
friends are not all religious people, yet they are very worthy,
excellent persons."
"It must be a high gratification to you, father," said his eldest
son, "to see the companions of your youth sitting around your table,
with your children, and, by mutual intercourse, recalling the early
scenes and incidents of your career."
"Indeed it is, William; and I hope God has reserved the same
enjoyment for you all; and that, when I am resting in the grave with
my fathers, you will think and talk of these gone-by times."
* * * * *
A few days after this, Miss Holmes received the following letter
from her esteemed friend, Mrs. Loader, which she had been anxiously
expecting for some time:--
"_29th Oct., 18--._
"MY DEAR LOUISA,--I received your letter of ----, and was
glad to find that you were so far restored as to be able to
occupy yourself in the service of Christian benevolence. The
duties which now devolve upon you are no less novel than they
are important; and while you may provoke others to scorn by
the activity of your zeal, you may sometimes likewise involve
yourself in perplexity and mortification. You already begin
to feel the loss of the spiritual enjoyments which you so
largely participated in when "first you knew the Lord," and you
suppose that this is a conclusive evidence of the declining
influence of religious principle over your mind; but you ought
not to draw such a conclusion. If, dear Louisa, you expect
that the realities of the unseen world will always retain that
ascendency over your affections which they acquired when you
first felt their power, you proceed in your calculations on
mistaken data. When you were first impressed by the truth, you
were a prisoner--confined in the solitary chamber; you held but
little intercourse with the world around you, and your feelings
were rendered more susceptible of strong excitement, from the
influence which a protracted affliction had imperceptibly
acquired over them; but now you are out and abroad--your spirits
are braced up by the pressure of calls and engagements, which
demand your attention; and you are compelled to engage in the
duties and pursuits of social life. Can such a change in your
habits take place without having some powerful effect on the
state of your affections? Impossible! An active life is less
favourable to devotional feeling than a contemplative one; and
though I would not throw out a remark which should operate as
a discouragement to exertion in the cause of Him who became
obedient unto death for us, yet I assure you, that in proportion
as the number of your employments increase, you will be deprived
of the pleasures of retired devotion, even though the truths of
religion retain their ascendency over your judgment, and its
holy principles reign in your heart.
"I have thought it right to make these observations, to guard
you against the common error into which young Christians often
fall, in supposing that their faith is not genuine, because it
does not uniformly act with the same degree of activity and
power.
"That you should, at times, admit the possibility of the entire
passing away of your religious convictions and impressions, and
should look forward with shuddering dread to the consequences
and final issue of such a calamitous event, does not surprise
me, neither does it give me any alarm. This is usually one of
the earliest mental trials a young disciple has to endure. You
say that, notwithstanding the ceaseless terror which agitates
your heart, you are moving forward, though slowly, between
hope and fear: and if so, you are safe in the right way to the
city of habitation, as fear will keep you from presumption,
and hope from despair. Yes, my dear Louisa, the harmonious
blending of these affections of the soul, will ever prove,
in their restraining and sustaining influence, a shield of
defence against the subtle temptations of the great adversary,
and a well-spring of consolation in the season of gloom and
depression. We read, 'The Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear
him, in those that hope in his mercy' (Psal. cxlvii. 11). But
you are unconsciously guilty of a capital error--you think, and
feel, and write, as if there were no being in existence who is
able to keep you from falling, and who, at the same time, has
no personal interest in doing it. Has a father no personal
interest in the preservation of the life and happiness of his
child? Hear what your heavenly Father says, when speaking to you
from the celestial glory--'Can a woman forget her sucking child,
that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea,
they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have
graven thee upon the palms of my hands' (Isa. xlix. 15, 16). Can
you suppose that Jesus Christ, after dying to redeem you, will
abandon you and leave you to perish, when you are praying--'Lord
save me!' He loves his own; and all who come to him to be saved
are his own, and none else will come; and when they come, he
will in no wise neglect them or cast them out. Meditate often
on the following words, which he spoke when on earth to his
disciples, and which he has had recorded in the sacred volume,
for the consolation of his disciples of all future times--'I
pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but
that thou shouldest keep them from the evil' (John xvii. 15).
You may have great and sore trials in your Christian course--you
may be exposed to severe temptations and great moral dangers,
but you are safe; HE will not overlook you, or leave you, who
gave his life as a ransom for your redemption. Your final
salvation depends on no doubtful contingency. It is fixed and
certain. And HE who gave his life for you, is now preparing a
place for you in heaven--is doing something in your behalf which
implies the exercise of power--getting in readiness, as I heard
an eloquent preacher remark the other Sabbath, a quiet chamber
for the accommodation of his beloved disciple in the house of
his Father. And after preparing this mansion, he will not suffer
its intended occupant to perish by the way. No; 'My sheep hear
my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: and I give unto
them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall
any man pluck them out of my hand.' (John x. 27, 28).
"I am happy that you are intimate with the Corries, who used to
be our next-door neighbours when we lived in London. They are
a very excellent family, decidedly pious, and very benevolent.
They are Christians of the old school--still retain their
attachment to the singular phraseology which at one time was
much in vogue amongst our evangelical preachers--and have
imbibed a few opinions which, I think, need revision.
"You appear to have had your peace disturbed, and your cheering
prospects darkened, by your intercourse with them; but be not
alarmed, as the more your faith is tried, the stronger it will
grow; and instead of sustaining any injury from the conflicting
elements of doubt and suspicion, which threaten to tear it up by
the roots, it will strike them still deeper and deeper in that
holy soil, in which it is ordained to flourish.