Before Murray could quite take in all that that letter might mean to
him, Mrs. Summers knocked on his door.
“Mr. Murray, Doctor Harrison wants to speak with you on the phone. He
tried to get you twice last night before you came in. I forgot to tell
you about it, it was so late. Can you come right down? He seems to be
in a good deal of a hurry.”
“Sure! I’ll be there in half a second!” said Murray, springing out of
bed and drawing on some garments hastily.
He hurried down to the telephone.
The minister’s voice came anxiously to him:
“Murray, is that you? Well, I’ve been trying to get you. You know your
church letter came while you were away at the convention.”
“Letter?” said Murray, quite innocently, and thought sharply of the
letter upstairs. Things were closing in about him. The minister
probably had one too.
“Yes, your letter. It ought to have reached here sooner, but it
seems to have miscarried, and gone around by the dead letter office.
However, it got here in time for the session meeting, and I wanted to
tell you that we accepted it, of course, and that we are counting you
in with the others this morning. There’ll be quite an accession. We
would rather have had you present at the session meeting, of course,
but it will be all right. There’s really no need. Today is our
communion service. You know that, of course. All you need to do is to
come forward when your name is called. But I didn’t want to take you
unaware.”
Accession! Come forward when your name is called! What the dickens was
the man talking about? He could think of nothing but the astounding
situation in which he had placed himself, and that letter upstairs.
Then the minister hadn’t got one yet. But he would soon. He must
forestall anything more. At least he could confess before the whole
thing was brought down about his ears.
“Yes,” he was saying to Doctor Harrison, “yes. That’ll be quite all
right with me, Doctor,” and he had not the slightest idea what it was
all about. Some collection they were going to take up probably, that
they wanted an unusual number of ushers. Well, it would not do any harm
for him to do one more thing, but he simply must do something about
this right off at once.
“Doctor Harrison!” he shouted, just as the hurried minister was about
to hang up, “I want to have a little talk with you. When can I see you?”
“Yes?” said the minister anxiously, “why, not before service, I’m
afraid. Suppose we say after service, or perhaps after dinner would
be better. We’ll have more time then. Any time after dinner before
Sunday-school. I’ll be glad to see you. I have two or three schemes I
want you to help me carry through.”
He turned with a dazed look from the telephone and met Mrs. Summers’
pleasant smile.
“Mr. Murray, I’ve put your breakfast on a tray, so you can eat while
you finish dressing. There isn’t much time, you know. Suppose you just
carry it up with you and take a bite and a sup while you comb your
hair.”
He obediently took the tray to his room, but he did not eat anything.
His mind was filled with confusion, and wondering what he ought to
do. One thing became plain to him as he glanced at his watch, and saw
that it was almost time for church to begin. He had just promised the
minister he would officiate at some kind of an affair in the church,
and he certainly must be there on time to find out what kind of an
ordeal he was to be put through now. But this was the last one of those
he would ever endure. Truth for him from hence forth. After he had
talked with the minister and made a clean breast of things he would
clear out. Last week if he had been in these same circumstances, he
would have cleared out without waiting for the talk with the minister,
but today it was different. Something in him had changed, something
that affected his whole life, and he could not somehow even think of
running away. Some kind of confession and restitution must be made, so
far as he was able, before he could be done with the past.
He was all in confusion as to what or how it must be done, but he knew
that he must stay by the situation and clear it up. It was a part of
the self-surrender of the day before.
He hurried through his shaving and dressing; as he tossed wildly among
the collars and neckties that belonged to another man, in the trunk
that was not his, he began to wonder about Allan Murray, and what he
was going to say to him. For that he had also to account to him was
another settled fact in his mind. The letter that lay face down on his
bed was like the presence of a stranger in the room, something that had
to be faced. As a last act before he left the room he swept his letters
into the bureau drawer, took one swallow of coffee, and hurried down to
where Mrs. Summers stood waiting for him at the front door.
“We’re late!” he said anxiously, and there was a strained look about
his eyes.
“The bell is still tolling,” she replied. “We’ll get there before the
Doxology. You look tired. Did you have a pleasant Convention?”
“It was wonderful!” he said, and then realized that he was not thinking
of the Convention at all, but of his own experience. It gave him
comfort that in the midst of the perplexities that seemed pressing him
on every side he could still thrill to the thought of that experience.
It was not just imagination. It was real. It had stayed with him over
night! It was his! Whatever came he would have this always, this sense
of forgiveness and redemption from the blackness of darkness!
He escorted Mrs. Summers to her seat, as he had been doing ever since
his advent in Marlborough, and after he had settled himself, he
realized that perhaps he ought to have inquired what was wanted of him,
and where he ought to be when needed. Then he remembered that the
minister had said he need do nothing but come forward when his name was
called, so he settled back once more and gave attention to the thought
of that letter at home in his bureau drawer, and what he ought to do
about it. All through the opening hymn and prayer he was thinking and
praying, “Lord, _My_ Lord, _My new Lord_, show me what to do next!”
Through the anthem and the scripture reading, and collection, he kept
on with the same prayer. He roused to the consciousness that the
collection was being taken without his aid, and without any apparent
need of him, and decided that the minister had not had need of him
after all. Or perhaps there was to be a circular or something passed
around at the close. That was maybe what he had meant by “letter,”
probably a letter from the pastor to the people, a sort of circular.
Then all at once an innovation took place, quite out of the routine
of service with which he had come to be familiar since he had been in
Marlborough. A white-haired man named McCracken, whose name he had
heard spoken with the title of “elder,” though he had never understood
what it meant, came forward and began to read names. He had been too
much absorbed in his own thoughts to have heard what the minister
said beforehand about it. But as the names were read he sat up and
gave attention. This likely was where he was supposed to come in. He
noticed that the people got up and came forward as their names were
called, and he wondered what they were supposed to be going to do. He
would just watch the others. Perhaps they were to pass those “letters”
around, whatever they were, and probably somebody would tell him which
aisle they wanted him to take. He would just have to feel his way this
once more, as he had been doing all these weeks, and get away with the
situation, but he resolved that not another day should pass before this
sort of thing should be ended.
But as the names went on and the people responded there began to be a
strange assortment down there in front of the pulpit. There were young
men and maidens, old men, and actually children. Some twenty-five or
thirty quite young people came forward, one little boy only ten years
old came down the aisle on crutches, with a smiling face and a light in
his eyes. Murray wondered why they selected a lame boy to pass things,
and such a little fellow! And if they were going to have children do
it, why didn’t they have them all children? It would be much more
uniform. And there were some women, too. Queer! But they did a great
many strange things in this church. Probably there would be some
logical explanation of this also when he came to understand it.
“And from the First Presbyterian Church of Westervelt, Ohio, Mr. Allan
Murray--”
Murray arose with a strange look around the church, a kind of sweeping
glance, as if he were in search of somebody. Somehow it seemed to him
that perhaps while he sat there the real Allan Murray had entered and
might be coming down the aisle, but as his glance came back to the
pulpit, Doctor Harrison nodded to his questioning look, and seemed to
beckon him, and he found himself walking down the aisle and standing
with the rest. He did not know what he was about to do, but he had a
strange serenity concerning it. He was not going of his own volition.
It was as if he were being led. He thought of Saul with scales on his
eyes, being led into the street called Straight by his soldiers and
companions, and his spirit waited for what was about to happen to him.
The minister came to the front of the platform and looked down upon
them with his pleasant smile. It came to Murray that he stood there to
represent God. That was a strange feeling. He had never thought about
a preacher in that way before. He had had very little ever to do with
ministers. And then the minister spoke, in his strong, kind, grave
voice:
“Friends, you are here to make a profession of your religious faith,
and enter into an everlasting covenant. We trust you have well
considered what you are about to do, and so are prepared to give
yourselves away, a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God through
Jesus Christ.”
Murray stared at the minister in wonder. How did the man know that
that was what was in his heart? Was it in the hearts of these others?
These men and women--and also these little children? He looked about
upon them wonderingly. Had the same Spirit drawn them that had touched
his heart? He felt a sudden accession of interest in them, as if they
were new-found brothers and sisters. What a queer thing! That little
boy with the turned-up nose and freckles, the red hair that needed
cutting, and the collar that was not exactly clean, was his brother. He
had been born into a new family. He looked at the boy again, and saw
a something in his face, a wistful, earnest look on the rough little,
tough little countenance, and all at once he knew that humanity was the
next greatest thing to God. Why had he not known that before? Why had
he always thought the only thing worth while was having a good time and
doing the latest thing that had been heard of? Oh, how he had wasted
his time!
The minister’s voice came into his thoughts just here again.
“Having examined and assented to our Articles of Faith, you will now
profess them before these witnesses.”
Murray had not examined any Articles of Faith, had not the least idea
what they were. He listened intently.
“We believe in the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, the true God.
“We believe that God has revealed the scriptures as our only infallible
rule of faith and practice.
“We believe that all mankind are by nature lost sinners.
“We believe that Jesus, the Son, died to atone for sin.
“We believe that whosoever repents and believes in Jesus will be saved.”
“Ah!” thought Murray, “that means me!”
“We believe that repentance and faith are the work of the Holy Ghost,
showing themselves in forsaking sin and in loving God and man.”
“Oh!” thought Murray, “that means me again. Was that Who did it all for
me? The Holy Ghost! And I have never known what that was before! There
is a great deal I need to know!”
“We believe,” went on the minister in clear tones, “that the Sabbath is
to be kept holy.”
“We believe that Baptism and the Lord’s Supper are both duties and
privileges.”
At that moment Murray noticed for the first time that there was a white
spread table down before the pulpit, covered over with a fine white
cloth of damask. The Lord’s Supper! A solemn awe seemed to come over
the room. It was something like the Holy Grail that he had had to write
an essay on in school once.
“We believe,” went on the minister again, “that there will be a
resurrection and judgment, when the wicked shall go away into
everlasting punishment, and the righteous into life eternal.”
Ah! That Judgment Day! Did this change that had come to him mean a
difference at the judgment? The born again ones were those whose names
were written in that “other book,” he remembered. Then he was one of
those!
“These things you believe?” The minister seemed to be looking straight
at him, and he found himself asserting. In his heart he knew that he
accepted these things. They were new to him, but he meant to believe
them. They were a part of the new world into which he had been born,
and of course he believed them.
“You will now enter into covenant with God and this church.”
Still the minister was looking at him. He thrilled with the thought of
what had been said to him. Enter into a covenant with God!
“In the presence of God and this assembly, you solemnly embrace the
Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, as your God forever. You humbly and
cheerfully consecrate your entire selves to His glory; to walk in all
His commandments, assisted by His Spirit; to maintain secret and family
prayer; to keep holy the Sabbath; to honor your profession by a life of
piety toward God and benevolence toward your fellow man--”
The solemn vows unfolded before his intelligence with a newness that
was startling, and yet they all seemed natural to him, these vows that
he was asked to take.
He saw the rest of the congregation arise, taking vows to watch over
these who had just joined themselves to their number. He wondered
how long things like this had been going on, and why he had been so
ignorant of them. And then the words of the solemn charge struck deep
into his soul:
“You have now entered into perpetual obligations.” What tremendous
words!
“These vows will abide upon you always. You must now be servants of
God. Henceforth the world will take note of your life, to honor or
dishonor Christ accordingly.”
Murray caught his breath, and looked about on the people from a new
point of view. Then he was responsible for what they thought of him!
He was dishonoring Christ his Saviour if he did not walk aright! Why,
it was just a new family whose honor he must regard. His father had
berated him often for dishonoring the old name of Van Rensselaer, and
bitterly now he knew how he had dishonored it. Strange he had not seen
it before, nor cared, nor tried to do differently. He almost trembled
at the thought that his life was nothing but dishonor from beginning to
end.
The minister was giving the new members the right hand of fellowship,
and as he moved from one to another, taking each one’s hand in a quick
warm clasp, he went repeating the Bible, giving each one a text. Murray
listened to them, recognizing them as words of scripture, because for
the last few weeks he had heard Mrs. Summers read the Bible every
evening. But now he was hearing them as if they were just new, and
handed down from the Lord that day, for the minister had a way of
making a text of scripture speak to the soul as he repeated it. And
when he came to Murray he grasped his hand and held it, and looked
straight into his eyes as he said:
“To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and
will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which
no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it.”
Murray stood as one transfixed while he heard these remarkable words.
That they were sent direct from heaven for him he never could doubt. A
new name! That was what he had been searching for. He had sinned and
dishonored the old name with which he was born. There had been no hope
for him. Then he had found a Saviour, and he had been born again with
a new name! It was all too wonderful to believe! He wanted to shout in
his joy.
Every one of those new members had verses given them, as wonderful and
perhaps fully as fitted to the needs of the special soul, but Murray
heard none of them. He was exulting in his own. To him that overcometh!
Ah! Could he overcome, now that he was born again?
Then began that wonderful benediction:
“Now unto Him who is able to keep you from falling,--”
Ah! Then He was able. Then he might overcome!
“And to present you faultless--”
Faultless! What miracle was this? Every word was burned brightly into
his soul. He didn’t have to do anything at all. It was all to be done
for him by One who was able!
--“before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy!”
Murray stood with bowed head, and a great sense of thanksgiving. He
did not notice the little stir about him at first as the new members
went back to their seats. Some one found Murray a seat next to the
front, and he sat down and looked about him as if his eyes had just
been opened to the world. Then he saw that white covered table again.
Four of the elders were lifting off the cloth that covered it. He saw
the shining silver of the communion service. Then the minister’s voice
again:
“The Lord Jesus, the same night in which He was betrayed, took bread:
and when He had given thanks He brake it and said, Take, eat, this is
my body, broken for you; this do in remembrance of me. After the same
manner also, He took the cup when He had supped, saying, This cup is
the new testament in my blood; this do ye, as oft as ye drink it in
remembrance of me. For as often as ye eat this bread and drink this
cup, ye do show the Lord’s death till He come.
“But let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of that bread and
drink of that cup. For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth
and drinketh damnation to himself.
“If we confess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins,
and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. The blood of Jesus Christ,
His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.”
It was just at this point that Murray rose to his feet. It was as
though the scales had fallen from his eyes and he understood. He saw
for the first time what he had been and what Christ was. And now he
knew what it was he had to do. He had come to the Lord’s table, and he
was unworthy!
He took one step forward, and the minister looked up, astonished, yet
feeling that there must be something important. He had great respect
for this young man who had come to their midst so highly recommended.
The minister stepped to meet him, and bent his tall head to listen.
“There is something I must say!” said Murray earnestly, in a low
tone. “Now!” he added insistently. The minister laid his hand upon the
young man’s shoulder, and was about to suggest that he wait until the
close of the service, but he saw that in Murray’s face that made him
desist. Perhaps the Spirit gave him a vision of this soul’s need. He
straightened up, and said in his usual voice, quite clearly, so that
everybody could hear:
“Our brother has a word to tell us. We will hear it just now.”
Murray turned and faced the people who had taken him in so
open-heartedly, and let him know that they honored him. There, almost
in the centre of the church facing him with admiring interest and not a
little pride sat Mr. Elliot Harper, his chief in the bank, with three
or four lesser dignitaries connected with the bank not far behind him.
There, a little to the right was a group of young people who had the
day before hung upon his every word, and given him all the honor and
respect that one human being can give to another. There, a few seats to
the left sat Mrs. Summers, with her kindly eyes upon him, thinking no
doubt he was about to tell some touching incident of the convention,
in which he had borne so great a part. And there, beside him, with
confidence and interest in his eyes, waited the pastor, sure that they
were to hear something which would lift their souls nearer to Christ.
And he, what had he got to tell? For one brief instant he wavered,
and then the memory of those quoted words came back, “He that eateth
and drinketh unworthily--” He must not begin this new life wrong, no
not if it shattered every beautiful thing that could ever come to him
again. Not if it robbed him of friends and livelihood and freedom. No,
this was the great moment of his life, the turning point.
But then came those other words, just heard--“If we confess--He is
faithful to _forgive_ our sins, and to _cleanse_ us.” Oh to be cleansed!
So, out of his heart he spoke!