THE POOL OF BETHESDA.
ROBERT went directly to his father after he left Hans. The miller was
writing a letter in his counting-house; he looked up with a troubled
expression on his face when he saw his son enter, for Robert rarely
came there unless he wanted to borrow or beg money, or to tell him of
some mischief he had done.
"What is the matter now?" he said, impatiently.
"I am come to ask you to give me some work to do," stammered out
Robert. "Father, I know you will say that I only bring you into
trouble, and lose the business if I have anything to do with it, but I
really am in earnest this time. I will tell you why." And the boy gave
a detailed account of all that had occurred.
"Hans Richter is a noble fellow," exclaimed the miller. "I liked that
boy from the first: he has a fine face, and looks as if he could not do
a mean trick. And if he makes you a better lad, Robert, I shall indeed
owe him a debt of gratitude."
"I think I've got hold of the secret of his goodness. Father, I'm
beginning to believe there is something true in religion, and that it
is because Hans loves God he is such a noble fellow. I mean to try and
see if I can follow his example, and serve my God, too. Why should we
not all turn over a new leaf, and go and hear Pastor Hahn preach on
Sunday?"
"I can't quite do that, my boy, for I'm satisfied with the life I lead,
and I don't care to be made gloomy by too much religion. I often think
Pastor Hahn calls me to account without good reason, for I harm no one,
pay my debts, don't drink, and am a good husband and father."
"I fancy Hans would say that was not enough; he told me the other day
that I must give myself to Christ, and cling to Him as the men do to
the raft when it shoots the weir, for that Christ died on the cross to
save us from our sins. But I can't remember all he said, for I know so
little about these things. I will soon know more, though, for Hans will
teach me; and I mean to go with him to Pastor Hahn's Bible-class. I do
very much wish I had read my Bible before this."
The miller felt uncomfortable; he could not but remember that if he had
been a God-fearing man, the Bible would have been an honoured book. As
it was, neither he nor his wife nor his children cared for its sacred
pages.
"I'm not going to stop you from going to the Bible-class, or church,"
he answered, hurriedly; "you may do just as you like. And now tell me,
Robert," he added, more quietly, "are you really anxious to give up
your idle habits, and work?"
"Yes, father. I dare say it will be hard at first, but you must bear
with me. I don't think really I'm such a very bad fellow at heart.
But I've been under Paul; he has managed me, and I have not had pluck
enough to shake him off."
"This is good hearing for me, and will make your mother very happy. You
see, lad—to go back to what you said about our going to hear Pastor
Hahn—we've been very comfortable all these years, and enjoyed our
Sunday holidays right merrily, and I think it would make our neighbours
chatter if we took to church-going now. As to the Bible, I don't so
much mind hearing it read."
"Let me learn a little more from Hans first, father, and then by
degrees we'll begin to read together; now tell me how I can help you."
"There's no lack of work, my boy. Trade has never been better. I wish
you would keep my books for me; you write a good hand. But can I depend
upon your being correct?"
"Try me, father. It's no use for me to talk about what I want to do;
just see if I do it."
So Robert was installed as his father's bookkeeper. And he applied
himself so diligently to the task that the miller hoped he really was
going to reform and be a man of business at last. When the rest of the
men left off work, Robert made himself neat and clean and set out to
the toll-keeper's cottage, for he wanted to know if Hans had seen or
heard anything of Paul.
He received a kind welcome from Karl Schmidt, who told him he hoped
he would yet be a great comfort to his father. "But don't trust in
yourself, Robert," he said. "'Trust in the LORD with all thine heart;
and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge
Him, and He shall direct thy paths.'"
When Hans and Robert were left alone, the former made light of his
interview with Herr Ebhardt and his son, save when he spoke of the
promise Paul had given him.
"Mind, Robert," he said, "that you never come to an open quarrel with
your former friend. If Paul breaks his word, his father will treat him
so violently that I do not like to think of what the consequences might
be; avoid crossing his path, if possible, for the present."
"I will; indeed, I will, Hans. It shall not be my fault if we fall out,
but it will be rather difficult to avoid Paul."
"Not so difficult as you think. It is some little distance from the
mill to the master tailor's house at the far end of the village. If you
become a man of business, you will have no time to idle away, and be
less likely to meet Paul."
"Hans, I want to ask you a question," said Robert: "is it enough for
us to live good lives—I mean, is that what you call 'sticking to the
Raft'?"
"No, no, Robert, 'sticking to the Raft' is quite another sort of
life. Instead of depending on yourself, you depend on the finished
work of your Saviour, who shed His most precious blood on the cross
for sinners. You feel how utterly impossible it is to do, or to say,
or to think anything that is right, so you cast your care on Christ,
and believe in Him as the only Saviour, and you yield yourself to Him
broken-hearted for your sin, and say, 'Lord, I believe; help Thou mine
unbelief.'"
"Oh, Hans, how I wish I had not wasted my life; I am so ignorant,
compared with you."
"There is time for you to learn, and to repent; thank God for life and
health, and come to Him at once. Cry to Him for the guidance of the
Holy Spirit before you lie down to rest."
"When you pray, what do you say, Hans? I don't believe I ever said a
prayer in all these years!"
"Did you ever ask your father for anything that you wanted very much?"
"Yes, very often."
"Then just ask God in the same way to forgive your sins for Christ's
sake. Don't pray with your lips only, for that is no prayer, but let
your words come straight from your heart. Now, Robert, I must not stay
here any longer, for it is just the time the master and I go to read
with Frau Schmidt."
"Do you think I might come too?"
"I don't know, but I will ask." And Hans ran upstairs to prefer his
request.
"By all means let Robert join us," answered the frau.
Accordingly Hans went to fetch his companion.
"I like to have you here," said the invalid to Robert, when he entered
her room; "and I rejoice to know that you come here of your own free
will; and I rejoice still more in learning from Hans that you mean, God
helping you, to become a respectable member of society. I always felt,
my dear boy, that Paul Ebhardt was a very unfortunate friend for you to
have chosen. Poor Paul! I only wish we could lead him to pause in his
unhappy course, and come to Christ."
"I am afraid, mother, he has nothing in his home surroundings to
influence him for good," said Karl.
"Perhaps not, but I always hope on, for with God nothing is impossible.
I never forget that that mighty Spirit which comes like the wind can
soften the heart of stone and turn it into a heart of flesh. And now
let us proceed with our evening reading. We are going through St.
John's Gospel, Robert, and our subject to-night is the healing of the
infirm man at the Pool of Bethesda. Give Robert a Bible, Hans, that he
may follow my son."
Karl Schmidt read the first twenty verses of the fifth chapter of St.
John's Gospel in a clear voice. When he closed his Bible, his mother,
as was her wont, made her comments on the passage he had just finished.
"It is evident," she said, "that this Pool of Bethesda was endowed with
a miraculous virtue; and what a boon it must have been to the sick
ones! I can picture those five porches filled with the lame, the halt,
and the maimed; and I know better than any of you here how eagerly they
would wait for the troubling of the water. Health was within their
reach again, and we only understand what a precious gift it is when we
lose it. Thirty-eight years is a long time to be crippled. It may be
the poor man had come to the pool time after time, hoping he would be
fortunate enough to move the hearts of some strong ones to help him
into the water—for evidently he had no power of his own to crawl there.
How many times he had come to this pool and gone away disappointed we
are not told. No one was found to take pity on his infirmities, until
the Saviour passed by. The Man of Sorrows marked that wan, careworn
face, which He had seen lit up with anxious hope when the angel
troubled the pool, and then the hope was darkened with despair, for
again another had stepped in before him.
"'Wilt thou be made whole?' asked the Master.
"Would he be made whole? Ay, that he would; but how was this to be?
"'Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the
pool: but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me.'
"Jesus said unto him, 'Rise, take up thy bed, and walk.'
"There was no questioning, no doubting, no waiting. The infirm man
believed that this God-Physician had almighty power to grant what He
offered; so he forgot his infirmity of thirty-eight years' standing,
and arose, rolled up the mat on which he had been lying, and walked. He
had faith in the Lord's healing power, else he never had obeyed. Would
he have tried to do what he did if one of us had said, 'Rise up'? No;
he would have replied, 'You mock me, friend. I am helpless; I have been
diseased for more than half my life.'
"Now tell me, Robert, what was the first thing this poor man did after
he was healed. Read the fourteenth verse of the chapter."
Robert read: "'Afterward Jesus findeth him in the temple, and said unto
him, Behold, thou art made whole: sin no more, lest a worse thing come
unto thee.'"
"Yes; his first step seems to have been to go to the temple. Jesus
found him there; perhaps in the fulness of his heart he longed to thank
God for His great mercy to him, in His own house. Ah, Robert, the day
may come when you, too, will be stricken down with disease, as this
poor man was, and then you may long in vain to frequent God's temple,
and sigh that you neglected His service while your limbs were lissom,
and you could move about at will. I used to pine to hear the Gospel
preached once more, and the sound of the church bells made me sad
because I knew they did not ring to summon me to the house of prayer
and praise. But now I thank my God through Christ that the longing to
do aught but what He wills has passed away. I realise increasingly that
my disease brings my Saviour very near; and the nearer He is to me, the
more I am sustained by His almighty power.
"'Lord Jesus, as Thou wilt!
Oh, may Thy will be mine.
Into Thy hand of love
I would my all resign.
Through sorrow, or through joy,
Conduct me as Thine own,
And help me still to say,
"My Lord, Thy will be done."
"'Lord Jesus, as Thou wilt
All shall be well for me
Each changing future scene
I gladly trust with Thee.
Straight to my home above
I travel calmly on,
And sing in life or death,
"My Lord, Thy will be done."'
"Now, Karl, will you offer up prayer?"
Robert took leave of the little party as soon as the evening prayer
was ended. He returned to the mill deeply touched with the simple,
earnest words he had listened to. Religion felt very real to him when
he thought over Frau Schmidt's remarks, and the account of the sick man
being healed by the Master. He felt very sick, sin-sick, weary, and
troubled. Oh, if he could but hear the Master's voice speaking to him!
He would rise up and obey. When he found himself alone in his room,
he knelt in prayer; yes, and there were sobs mingling with his words.
It was the cry of a broken spirit going up to heaven and pleading for
mercy at the throne of grace.
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