Even such a man (inheriting the zeal
And from the sanctity of elder times
Not deviating,—a priest, the like of whom,
If multiplied, and in their stations set,
Would o’er the bosom of a joyful land
Spread true religion and its genuine fruits)
Before me stood that day.
THE EXCURSION.
“‘MY brethren,’ said the priest, resting his hand on the Bible, and
looking round upon the anxious audience with an expression which showed
some degree of agitation of mind, mixed with his habitual calmness and
self-possession,—‘My _dear_ brethren, I am about to do what is quite
unusual, and, I fear, wrong in me;—I am about to address you in language
which I have not first carefully considered, and, word for word,
committed to paper. Though I have preached the blessed Gospel of our
LORD to you and your fathers, from this place, for the long period of
fifty years, I have never ventured to do this before. I have had too
much fear both for myself and you—too much anxiety that not a word should
drop from me which was not agreeable to the language and spirit of the
Gospel, to trust myself to unarranged thoughts, and unconsidered words.
But fifty years have given confidence to my mind, that nothing which is
not of GOD can slip from me in this house, even in the warmth and heat of
a moment like this; and thoughts arise _now_ in my mind which seem fitted
for the occasion, and yet which had not occurred to me in the silent
meditation of my closet. And surely I have _experienced_ too long the
full enjoyment of that holy truth that “GOD is love,” to shrink from
speaking of it, (and especially before you, my children,) without shame,
and without fear! I call you my children; for many as are the grey heads
that I now see before me, there is hardly one who has been born again
into the blessed kingdom of our LORD without the ministration of these
hands, unworthy as indeed they are to be made the instruments of so
divine a thing! There is one, indeed, now present,’—here his eye
naturally turned to the seat almost close beside him, in which sat the
venerable partner of his joys and cares, (_sorrows_, I believe, in the
worldly sense, he was too good a man to have any,) in her little black
silk quaker-like bonnet, and neat white cap; retaining on her cheeks much
of the bloom and some of the beauty which had made her, between sixty and
seventy years ago, the admiration of the parish:—‘There is _one_,
indeed,’ he repeated; his voice faltered, and it was clear that he would
have some difficulty in proceeding with his discourse: and here it was
beautiful to observe what happened. The old lady, seeing how matters
stood, looked up to him from under her bonnet with a quiet smile,
conveying at once an expression of kind encouragement and gentle rebuke,
which is quite indescribable. The effect was immediate. A slight flush
of shame crossed the old man’s brow, and he at once resumed his wonted
composure. There was something in that smile which had reminded him of
the days of their youth—when she was the buxom maiden and he the gallant
lover—and he doubtless felt some shame that he should not show himself at
least as firm and as youthful as his dame; and so his face naturally took
up an expression in quiet harmony with hers, and he became at once
himself again. Sir, it was beautiful! I would not have missed observing
it for the world. Doubtless, these were mere human feelings intruding
themselves into the house of GOD, but I cannot believe they were sinful.
It was like a gleam of earthly sunshine streaming through the painted
windows of the chancel of a cathedral, glancing upon, and not polluting,
the holy pavement of the sanctuary!”—The old man paused as if pleased
with his own thoughts, and then proceeded with his recollections of the
sermon.
“‘You,’ said the preacher, ‘have been my scholars, and sometimes, I
confess, my teachers, for many a year; for while you have learned from me
the truths of the Gospel, I have often drawn from you—your patience, your
cheerfulness, your submission to the will of GOD—a lesson as to the right
way of putting the Gospel into practice. Much, too, have I learned from
your sins, your negligences, and ignorances. But all combines,—strength
and weakness, life and death, the works of GOD and the Word of GOD,—to
teach us all the great, the essential doctrine of the text, “GOD is
love!” See how He has shown it in our creation and our redemption, in
the world around us, and in the world within us—the kingdom of earth, and
the kingdom of heaven! How _like_, too, are His bounties and
loving-kindnesses in both these kingdoms! It is indeed “the _same_ GOD,
that worketh all in all.” Look around you, as I have often before told
you to do, on human life, and especially on your own life, and the
blessings which each of you possess. GOD is with you in spiritual and
temporal things, always turning upon you the same face of love. He has
given you an earthly world in which you are to live here below. He gave
you breath to begin life, and strength to continue it. He gives you food
in health, medicine in sickness, parents and friends to guard and
instruct you in youth, companions in middle life, and children to be a
comfort in old age. He surrounds you with beauty to cheer your hearts on
every side; sunshine and shadow, the fruitful plains and the everlasting
hills, the fertilizing streams, and the bright and silent stars. GOD, in
short, shows Himself to you in love and beauty, through every stage of
your mortal life; and so it is with your spiritual life,—that life which
He has given you in His dear SON. Love rules in grace as well as in
nature. Love brought down the SAVIOUR to die for you when you were
dead—all dead—in trespasses and sins. Love sent down the Holy SPIRIT to
earth, by Whom ye were born again into the kingdom of CHRIST, as ye were
born into this world by the breath of the same SPIRIT when ye were but
insensible dust. And your spiritual life is surrounded with love and
kindness like your natural life, from its beginning on earth to its
consummation in heaven. GOD’s Bible, like His world, is full of love and
beauty. It tells you to whom you are to listen, namely, His ministers;
through what you are to seek grace, namely, His sacraments; through Whom
alone you are to be saved, namely, His SON.’
“He then proceeded to show more especially how this love was shown in the
institution of the rite of Confirmation, by which careful training of the
youth of CHRIST’s Church in faith and practice was secured, and all ages
taught how they must act together in furthering the common good, the
older being bound to teach the young, and the young to listen to the old;
while both learned to feel their submission to the rule of the Church, in
having to submit to the Bishop, as its head, the test of their mutual
obedience to her laws. ‘But,’ he added, ‘I will not now dwell more on
the rite of Confirmation, as the older have already had their instruction
in it, and that of the younger will soon follow. I wish to say a word to
you all on another matter, which I confess weighs heavily on my mind, and
no occasion may again occur on which I can do it so properly as at
present. You are surrounded with spiritual enemies on every side, and it
is my particular duty to warn you of your danger. GOD be thanked, the
foe has not yet scaled the walls of this parish, but he is loudly
battering at its ramparts! Look at all the various kinds of dissent from
the Church’s unity, which now stalk abroad with shameless front! Now all
dissent is _sin_, less or more. If it differs not from the truth, it is
the more unpardonable for its schism—if it does differ, so far as it
differs it is the more sinful. Look at popery, which is dissent in the
mask of unity—error the more dangerous for boasting itself to be the
truth. Look, again, at infidelity—the blasphemies of Tom Paine; beware,
my children, of this sin, for I hear it has come nigh you, even to your
doors.’ (Here a sensation of wondering horror ran through the assembled
crowd.) ‘Do you ask me for a safeguard against these snares? I answer,
meddle not with them! He that toucheth pitch _will_ be defiled. To be
tempted of the devil is trial enough for poor mortals to endure, but to
tempt the devil himself, is of all follies the most unpardonable! It is
not my duty, for it is impossible for me, to answer all the forms of
error; but it _is_ my duty to warn you against them all; and I do so by
giving you one simple safeguard, which will apply to them all alike: it
is this—_take my word for it_, _that your Church is true_.—_Somebody’s_
word you _must_ take, for you are too unlearned to judge of these deep
matters for yourselves, and why not _mine_? Have I any interest, have I
any wish to deceive you? Does not my salvation rest upon my securing
your own? Have I not given my nights and my days to the study of the
truth? Has not the Bishop, my spiritual head, commissioned me to preach
it to you? Have I any thing in this world that I can desire in
comparison with the salvation of your souls? Do not my hoary locks, and
shrinking frame, proclaim that here I have no continuing city, but must
soon give an account of my stewardship to Him that sent me? Has not the
Bible been my companion, and the wisest and best of all ages its
interpreters for me, for nearly a century? If these things cannot be
spoken against, take my word for it, till you have that of one whom you
have more reasons for believing, that if you take the Bible as your law,
and the Prayer Book as your practical rule of life, living up to both
with a good conscience, then, my life for yours—my _eternal_ life for
yours—you will at last find the path I now point out to you,—the path
that leads to heaven!’
“The venerable preacher gave utterance to these words with a passionate
earnestness which went to the hearts of all present, and very few who
heard them will ever forget either their sound or their meaning. He then
proceeded more calmly to press on his hearers their several duties to GOD
and to each other, and dismissed the vast assembly with his blessing,
given with all the dignity of a patriarch. I need not relate to you how
crowded was his mid-day meal,—how attentively listened to his evening
sermon. Suffice it to say, that we were instructed in every point of the
solemn vow which we were about to take, on our own behalf, before the
Bishop, in such a manner as might be expected from ROBERT WALKER. I
must, however, mention two events more, connected with this little
history of our Confirmation, the one very ridiculous, the other almost
sublime; because they have each their proper moral attached to them.
Among the other candidates for Confirmation was our old friend Tom
Hebblethwaite, whom I have long since forgiven for the sound beating he
gave me at Hawkshead, but whom I never _can_ forgive for cutting off the
old cock’s tail! Tom was stupid and sullen as usual, but at the same
time, thanks to old Bowman’s birch, had acquired information enough about
his catechism to prevent Mr. Walker from absolutely refusing him his
ticket. Accordingly, he was one of the party who started off together
from YEWDALE to ULVERSTON on the morning on which the confirmation was to
be held in the church of that town, by the Lord Bishop of Chester. We
were a sober and steady young party, attended by our parents, and one or
two god-fathers and god-mothers who knew their duty; and the mirth, which
generally attends such meetings of the youth of both sexes, was sobered
down into quiet and decorous conversation by the seriousness of the
occasion which had brought us together. All except Tom, who, generally
dull and stupid enough, seemed excited into a kind of perverse and
ungainly liveliness, which increased into boisterous folly with every
rebuke from those older than himself. At length we arrived at
PENNY-BRIDGE, just below Mr. MACHELL’s house, when the stream was then
crossed, (I know not how it is now,) not by a bridge, as one might expect
from its name, but what are there called ‘hipping-stones,’ large blocks
of rock placed at intervals, so that the passenger had to skip from one
to another in order to cross the water. Tom challenged his companions to
go over on one leg,—a feat which many there could have performed, had
they not one and all felt themselves restrained from such a childish
frolic by the solemnity of the occasion. Now it is a strange trait in
human nature that the very feelings which held back the really brave,
seemed to give a momentary courage to the coward; and Tom undertook to
perform to-day what nobody would give him credit for ever thinking of on
any other day in the year. But the fate of all such rash adventurers—and
which every one hoped rather than expected—on this occasion befell Tom
Hebblethwaite. Just when he came to the largest stone, and the deepest
hole in the river, Tom’s courage and foot gave way together, and down he
soused over head and ears into the water, nothing being seen of him, for
a moment, but his hat, which, being the lightest part about him, (it was
a new one for the occasion,) refused to sink with the rest of his body,
and soon commenced a voyage towards PEEL CASTLE and the PILE of
FOUDREY,—a voyage which nobody present seemed inclined to interrupt. Tom
himself, however, was kindly fished up out of an element which seemed to
have been of service neither to his body nor to his mind; for, without
staying to thank his deliverers, he immediately commenced a rapid retreat
homewards, and, I dare say, remains unconfirmed, (except in his
sullenness and obstinate temper,) to the present hour! It was some time
before we could recover our composure, which had been ruffled by this
ludicrous event; but the sight of the assembly around the church and
church-yard of Ulverston effectually sobered the thoughts of even the
most volatile of our party; for there can be no sight more solemn than
that of a Confirmation in a fine open country, and in a church situated
like that of Ulverston, surrounded by scattered and towering hills, with
the broad ocean in the distance. There were the rural shepherds at the
head of their flocks, hastening to present their young lambs to the LORD,
that they might receive His blessing from the hands of His chief minister
on earth. Our own beloved pastor was already at his post, standing
waiting for us at the church-door in his well-known gown and cassock, and
ready to head us up to the rails of the altar. Way was made for him by
his younger brethren of the clergy, as he advanced steadily up the aisle,
followed by his children; and what was our surprise and delight to see
the Bishop himself, in his white robes, advance two or three steps to
meet him, and shake him most affectionately by the hand. There was a
smile of approbation on the faces of the surrounding clergy as they
witnessed this scene, which showed that no feeling of jealousy was
excited in their minds by this kindness on the part of the Bishop, but
that they all looked upon it in its true light—as a just reward of pious
and unpretending merit. How proud we all were at that moment of
belonging to the flock of ROBERT WALKER! We each felt as if we had a
personal share in his distinction, and many of us resolved then, I doubt
not, to do nothing which should bring disgrace upon a teacher so honoured
among his brethren as ours! This, sir, I have learned since to believe,
is a wrong feeling; we ought to follow the right path from higher motives
than a feeling of pride, either in ourselves or others. But surely our
human passions may sometimes justly be employed for good ends. What is
it but taking one of the Devil’s strongest and most wiry snares, and
twisting it into a three-fold cord to bind us faster to the altar?”
[Picture: Ulverstone Church]