"Labor in the path of duty,
Gleam'd up like a thing of beauty."
Cranch.
"My dear child, you have improved wonderfully," Mrs. Keith said, as
Mildred concluded a much longer and more difficult piece of music than
the one with which she had begun.
"She has indeed! I'm quite proud of her performance," echoed Mr. Keith.
"She does make terrible fine music," put in Celestia Ann; "but I wisht
she'd stop a bit, or them dishes o' mine 'll never git washed."
"And I must go to the office," said Mr. Keith, looking at his watch,
and glancing about in search of his hat.
"And I to my sewing," added Mildred, rising.
The children entreated somewhat clamorously for more, but yielded their
wish at once on mother's decision that they must wait till after tea.
"Oh, the books!" cried Mildred, springing toward them with an eager
gesture. "But no," turning away with a half sigh, "I must not take
time to even look at them now."
"Yes, you may," her mother said smilingly; "glance at the titles, and
dip in here and there, just to whet your appetite; read this note
from your uncle, too, and then we can talk over your plans for mental
culture, while busy with our needles."
"Always the same kind, indulgent mother," Mildred said, with a look
of grateful love. "I will do so, then, and try to work fast enough
afterwards to make up for lost time."
Half an hour later she joined her mother and sisters, who were all
sewing industriously.
"Such a nice note, mother. Shall I read it to you?"
"Yes, if you like. I always enjoy uncle's letters."
"It sounds just like his talk," Mildred said when she had done reading,
"saying the kindest things half jestingly, half earnestly. But the idea
of his thinking I must have wondered that he gave me no special parting
gift!--when he was all the time heaping favors upon me."
"But it was Cousin Horace who gave the piano," said Ada.
"Yes; uncle the books. And now I must strive to show my appreciation of
their kindness by making the best possible use of both presents."
"For your own improvement and that of others," added her mother. "I
want you to lend them, one at a time, to Effie Prescott and poor
Gotobed Lightcap."
"What about him, mother?" Mildred asked, taking up her sewing. "The
children told me he had been elected sheriff."
"Yes; I was very glad. He deserves every encouragement, for he is
trying hard to educate himself, and I really hope some day may be able
to enter one of the learned professions."
"Poor fellow!" Mildred exclaimed feelingly, tears starting to her eyes
as memory brought vividly before her the sad scenes connected with the
loss of his right hand, "he is welcome to the use of any or all of my
books. I will gladly do anything in my power to help him."
"Now, suppose we talk about ourselves and our own affairs," Zillah
suggested in her sprightly way. "I'm extremely anxious to learn to play
on that lovely piano, but don't see how either you, mother, or Milly is
to find time to give me lessons, for you are both busy as bees now from
morning to night."
"And I want to learn too," put in Ada imploringly.
"So you shall, dears, both of you, if you continue to be the good,
industrious, helpful girls you have been for the past year," the mother
said, with her cheery smile. "Milly and I will manage it between us.
Almost all our winter clothes are made now, so that we will not need to
give so much time to sewing as we have for the past month or more."
Mildred seemed to be thinking. "I believe we can manage it," she said
presently. "I hear the recitations from nine to eleven now, you know;
we must begin at eight after this, and then from ten to twelve can be
spared for the two music lessons."
"And the afternoons and evenings you must reserve for yourself--your
exercise, study, reading and recreation," added Mrs. Keith, "while I
oversee the practicing and the preparation of lessons for the next day.
Two music lessons a week to each will be all sufficient. Yes, I am sure
that with system and rigid economy of time--making good use of each
golden minute as it flies--we can accomplish all that is necessary, if
not all that is desirable."
Again a few moments of thoughtful silence on Mildred's part, then,
"Mother," she said, "do you think I ought to take that Sunday-school
class? I don't feel fit, and--and besides, it will take a good deal of
my time to attend right to it--prepare the lessons, and occasionally
visit the children through the week."
"I would have you consider the question carefully and prayerfully, and
in the light of God's holy word, which is our only rule of faith and
practice, daughter. 'As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good
unto all men.' 'He that winneth souls is wise.'"
"But, mother, I am not wise."
Mildred's tone was low and humble.
"'If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men
liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.' Ask for it
and search the Scriptures for it, for we are told, 'The entrance of thy
word giveth light; it giveth understanding to the simple.' And while
you study it for the benefit of others, you will be cultivating your
own soul--a matter of even greater importance than the culture of your
intellect."
"And I could not do the first without at the same time doing the last."
"No; that is very true. Also I trust, daughter, that your great motive
for improving your mental powers is that you may thus be prepared to
do better service to the Master?"
"I hope so, mother; it is, if I know my own heart," Mildred said,
looking up with shining eyes. "I know it is said that duties never
conflict, yet it does seem sometimes as though they did."
"As, for example?" and her mother's eyes smiled encouragingly and
sympathizingly into hers.
"Why, there is the weekly church prayer-meeting to take one whole
evening out of the six."
"Only from an hour to an hour and a half," corrected Mrs. Keith.
"But it breaks into the evening so that one can hardly do much with the
leavings," Mildred said with a slight laugh. "And then the young girls'
prayer-meeting breaks up one afternoon of every week, and besides--O
mother! it is a real trial to me to lead in prayer, and I am sure to be
called on."
"I hope you will never refuse," Mrs. Keith said gently, and with a
tender, loving look. "We should never fear to attempt any duty, looking
to God for help, for it shall be given, and a blessing with it."
"It is a great cross to me."
"Greater than that the Master bore for you?"
"Oh no, no! nothing to compare to it, or even to what many a martyr and
many a missionary has done and borne for him."
"And is it not a blessed privilege to be permitted to do and bear
something for his dear sake?" Mrs. Keith asked with glistening eyes,
and in tones trembling with emotion.
"O mother, yes!" And Mildred's head bowed low, a tear fell on her work.
"O my darling, be a whole-hearted Christian!" the mother went
on, speaking with intense earnestness, "consecrate yourself and
all you have to the Master's service--time, talents, influence,
money--everything you possess. He gave himself for us; shall we hold
back anything from him?"
"Oh no! But mother--"
"Well, dear?"
"Shall I not do better service by and by, perhaps, by now giving my
whole time, energy, and thought to preparation for it?"
"Do you find that you can always do a given amount of mental work in a
given space of time?"
"No, mother; sometimes my brain is so active that I can do more in an
hour than at some other times I can accomplish in a day."
"And cannot He who made you, and gave you all your mental powers, cause
them at any time to be thus active? My child, he never lets us lose
by working for him; in some way he will more than make it good to us.
'He that watereth shall be watered also himself.' 'Seek ye first the
kingdom of God, and His righteousness; and all these things shall be
added unto you.'"
Mildred looked up brightly. "I think--I am sure you are right, mother;
and I will take up all those duties, trusting to the dear Master to
help me with them and with my studies. My time is his as well as all
else that I have."
"'Yes, ye are not your own, for ye are bought with a price; therefore
glorify God in your body and in your spirit, which are God's.'"
"Who, mother?" asked little Fan, playing with her doll near by.
"All God's children, my child."
"I want to be one, mother. But who bought them? and what with? what
price?"
"Christ bought them, dear, with his own precious blood."
"Mother," said Ada softly, "how good he was! I wish I could do
something for him; but I'm not old enough to teach in Sunday-school, or
pray in the prayer-meeting."
"No, darling; but you can pray at home, kneeling alone in your own
room, and join with your heart in the prayers at family worship and at
church; you can pray in your heart at any time and in any place; for
yourself and for others. In his great kindness and condescension God
listens to our prayers at all times, if they come from the heart, and
just as readily to those of a little child as to those of the wisest
and mightiest of men."
"O mother, I'm glad of that! but if I could do some work for him I'd
love to do it."
"Do you remember, dear, that once when Jesus was on earth the people
asked him 'What shall we do that we might work the works of God?' and
Jesus answered and said unto them, 'This is the work of God, that ye
believe on him whom he hath sent.'"
"That was Jesus himself," the child said thoughtfully, staying her
needle in mid air, while her eyes sought the floor. "Mother, could you
tell me _just_ what is meant by believing on him so as to be saved?
It can't mean only believing all the Bible says about him is true,
because it tells us 'the devils also believe, and tremble.' I heard
father read it from the Bible at worship this morning."
"Yes, my dear child, it does mean much more than that," the
mother said, and silently asked help of God to make it clear to
the apprehension of all present, even to little Annis, who leant
confidingly against her knee, the blue eyes gazing earnestly into her
face.
"The devils know the truth, but they don't love it," she said; "God's
children do: they are glad that he reigns and rules in all the
universe; but the devils gnash their teeth with rage that it is so, and
would tear him from his throne if they could."
The two little boys were in the room, Cyril whittling, Don poring over
a new book that Mildred had brought him from Philadelphia. The one shut
his jack-knife, the other his book, and both drew near to listen.
"Jesus didn't die for them, did he, mother?" asked Cyril.
"No, my son, there is no salvation offered them, and God might justly
have left us in the same awful condition; but of his great love and
mercy he has provided a wonderful way by which we can be saved. 'For
God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that
whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting
life.'
"Faith is another word that means the same as believing. The Bible
tells us that without faith it is impossible to please God; also,
that the faith which availeth anything worketh by love. 'Unto you,
therefore, which believe, he (that is, Jesus) is precious.' The faith
that pleases God and will save from sin and eternal death, loves the
Lord Jesus Christ, and trusts for salvation only in what he has done
and suffered for us."
"We can't do anything to save ourselves, mother?"
"We can not do anything to earn our salvation; we can have it only as
God's free, undeserved gift. We have all broken God's holy law, but
Jesus kept it perfectly in our stead. Our sins deserve God's wrath and
curse, both in this life and that which is to come, for it is written,
'Cursed is every one who continueth not in all things which are written
in the book of the law to do them;' but Jesus has borne that curse for
all his people. 'Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law,
being made a curse for us.'"
"I should like to have that right kind of faith if I knew just how to
get it, mother," said Ada.
"'By grace are ye saved, through faith; and that not of yourselves: it
is the gift of God,'" quoted Mrs. Keith. "Ask for it, my child. Jesus
said, 'Every one that asketh, receiveth;' and again, 'If ye shall ask
anything in my name I will do it.'"
"You know, my child, that though we cannot see him, he is always
near. Go to him in prayer, confess your sins, tell him that you are
altogether sinful by nature and by practice, and can do nothing at
all to deserve his favor; but that you come in his name, and pleading
what he has done and suffered for you, because he has invited you so
to come. Ask him to take away your wicked heart and give you a new
one full of love to him; accept his offered salvation from sin and
hell; give yourself to him and he will take you for his own; for he
says, 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.' He will
give you true faith and true repentance--sorrow for sin because it is
displeasing to God; a sorrow that will lead you to hate and forsake it,
and to be a follower of God as a dear child, doing him service from the
heart, striving to please, honor, and glorify him in all things; not
that you may be saved, but because you are saved."
"But what can a little girl like me _do_ for him, mother?"
"Or a boy like me or Cyril?" added Don.
"Christ is our example, and one thing the Bible tells us of him is that
when he was a child on earth he was subject to his parents; that is, he
obeyed and honored them. You must do the same by yours, if you would be
his disciples. There are few, comparatively, whom God calls to do what
men consider great things for him, but if we do faithfully each little
every-day duty--it may be only to learn a lesson, to sweep or dust a
room, to make a bed, go on an errand, or something else quite as simple
and easy--because we want to please and honor him; he will accept it as
work done for him. Men can judge only from appearances--God sees the
heart, the motives; and according as they are good or bad is he pleased
or displeased with our acts."
"Mother," cried Ada, looking up with a glad smile, "how nice that is!
Any work must be sweet when we think of God watching and being pleased
with us for doing it just as well as we can because we love him."
"Yes, daughter, love is a great sweetener of labor of whatever kind it
may be."