HABAKKUK.
The church toward which Tode bent his eager steps was quite filled when
he reached it, but the sexton made a way for him, and he settled into a
seat with a queer, awkward sense of having slipped into a spot that was
not intended for such as he; but the organ tones took up his attention,
and then in a moment a burst of music from the congregation, among the
words of which he could catch ever and anon that magic name Jesus. So at
least they were going to sing about him. Yes, and talk to him also, for
Mr. Birge's prayer, though couched in language quite beyond Tode's
reaching, yet closed with the to him wonderful sentence, "We ask in the
name and for the sake of Jesus our Redeemer." When he opened the great
book which Tode knew was the Bible, the boy was all attention; something
more from the Bible he was anxious to hear. He got out his bit of pencil
and a crumpled twist of paper, and when Mr. Birge announced that he
would read the fourth Psalm, Tode bent forward and carefully and
laboriously made a figure four and the letters S A M in his very best
style, and believed that he had it just right. Then he listened to the
reading as sometimes those do not who can glibly spell the words. Yet
you can hardly conceive how like a strange language it sounded to him,
so utterly unfamiliar was he with the style, so utterly ignorant of its
meaning. Only over the last verse he had almost laughed.
"I will both lay me down in peace and sleep; for thou, Lord, only makest
me dwell in safety."
_Didn't_ he know about that? The awful night, those dreadful eyes, and
the peace in which he laid down and slept at last.
"Oh, ho," he said to himself, "some other fellow has had a time of it,
too, I guess, and put it in the Bible. I'm glad I've found out about it
just as I did."
Tode didn't mean to be irreverent. You must continually bear in mind the
fact that he didn't know the meaning of the word; that he knew nothing
about the Bible, nor dreamed that the words which so delighted him were
those of inspiration, sounding down through the ages for the peace and
comfort of such as he.
Presently Mr. Birge announced his text, reading it from that same great
book, and Tode's heart fluttered with delighted expectation as he heard
the words, "Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." The _very_ name! and of all
news this, that he passes by. Oh, Tode _wanted_ so to see him, to hear
about him. He sat erect, and his dark cheek flushed with excitement as
he listened eagerly to every word. And the Spirit of the Master had
surely helped to indite that sermon, for it told in its opening
sentences the simple story, entirely new to Tode.
"A little more than eighteen hundred years ago, very near a certain
city, might have been seen a large concourse of people, differently
circumstanced in life, many of them such as had been healed of the
various diseases with which they had long been afflicted. This throng
were following a person upon whose words they hung, and by whose power
many of them had been healed. As they passed by the roadside sat a blind
man begging. He, hearing the crowd, asks what it is. They answer, 'Jesus
of Nazareth passeth by.'"
Thus, through the beautiful and touching story, he dwelt on each detail,
giving it vivid coloring, bringing it almost before the very eyes of the
eager boy, who drank in every word.
The truth grew plain to his mind, that this Jesus of Nazareth once on
earth had now gone back to heaven, and yet, oh beautiful mystery, still
was here; and he heard for the first time that old, old story of the
scoffed and spit upon, and bleeding and dying Savior; heard of his
prayer even in dying for the cruel ones who took his life. So simply and
so tenderly was the story told, that when the minister exclaimed: "Oh
what a loving, sympathizing, forgiving Savior is ours!" Tode, with his
eyes blinded by tears, repeated the words in his heart, and felt "amen."
Then came the explanation of his passing by us now, daily, hourly,
calling us in a hundred ways, and then--a few sentences written, it
would seem, expressly for Tode's own need:
"Sometimes," said the minister, "he passes by, speaking to the soul with
some passage from the Word. Did you never wonder that some portion, some
little sentence from the Bible, should so forcibly impress your mind,
and so cling to you? Perhaps you tried to drive it away so much did it
trouble you, but still it hovered around, and seemed to keep repeating
itself over and over to your heart. Be not deceived. This was Jesus of
Nazareth passing by, waiting for you to say, 'Jesus, thou Son of David,
have mercy on me.'"
Was ever anything so wonderful! How could Mr. Birge have found out
about it--that dreadful night--and the one verse saying itself over and
over again! Then to think that it was Jesus himself calling and waiting.
Could it be possible--was he really calling _him_? And the tears which
had been gathering in Tode's eyes dropped one by one on his hand.
Presently, as he listened, the minister's tones grew very solemn.
"There are none before me to-day who can say, 'He never came to me.'
Sinner, he is near you now, near enough to hear your voice, near enough
to answer your call. Will you call upon him? Will you let him help you?
Will you take him for your Savior? Will you serve him while you live on
earth that you may live in heaven to serve him forever?"
From Tode's inmost soul there came answers to these solemn questions: "I
will, I will, I will."
And there went out from the church that Sabbath day one young heart who
felt himself cured of his blindness by that same Jesus of Nazareth; who
felt himself given up utterly to Jesus, body and soul and life; and
without a great insight as to what that solemn consecration meant, he
yet took in enough of it to feel a great peace in his heart.
"There goes a Christian man, if ever there was one." This said a
gentleman to his companion, speaking of another who had passed them.
Tode overheard it, and stood still on the street.
"A Christian," said he to himself, quoting from a sentence in Mr.
Birge's sermon. "A Christian is one who loves and serves the Lord Jesus
Christ with his whole heart." Then aloud. "I wonder, I do wonder now, if
I am a Christian? Oh, what if I was!" A moment of earnest thought, then
Tode held up his head and walked firmly on. "I _mean_ to be," he said,
with a ring in his voice that meant decision.
Tode was dusting and putting in order a lately vacated room one morning.
He was whistling, too; he whistled a great deal these days, and felt
very bright and happy. He picked up three leaves which had evidently
been torn from an old book; reading matter was rather scarce with him,
and he stopped the dusting to discover what new treasure might be
awaiting him here. He spelled out, slowly and carefully, the name at the
top: "H-a-b-a-k-k-u-k."
"Queerest name for a book ever I heard of," he muttered. "Words must
have been scarce, I reckon. Let's see what it reads about. School book,
like enough; if 'tis I'll get it all by heart."
And Tode sat down upon the edge of a chair to investigate. The story,
if story it were, commenced abruptly to him.
"Scorn unto them," being the first words on the page. He read on: "They
shall deride every stronghold; for they shall heap dust and take it."
"My! what curious talk," said Tode. "What ever is it coming at? I can't
make nothing out of it."
Nevertheless he read on; only a few lines more and then this sentence:
"Art thou not from everlasting, O Lord my God, mine Holy One?"
A sudden look of intelligence and delight flushed over Tode's face; and
springing up he rushed into the hall and down the stairs, nearly
tumbling over Mr. Ryan in his haste.
Mr. Ryan was a good-natured boarder, and on very friendly terms with
Tode.
"Oh, Mr. Ryan!" burst forth Tode. "What is this reading on these
leaves?"
"Why, Tode, what's up now; forgot how to read?"
"Oh bother, no; but I mean where did it come from. It's tore out of a
book, don't you see?"
"Piece of a Bible," answered Mr. Ryan, giving the leaves a careless and
the boy a searching glance. "What is there so interesting about it?"
"What's it got such a queer name for? What does H-a-b-a-k-k-u-k spell,
and what does it mean?"
"That's a man's name, I believe."
"Who was he, and what about him?"
"More than I know, my boy. Never heard of him before that I know of.
What do you care?"
It was Tode's turn to bestow a searching glance.
"Got a Bible of your own?" he asked at last.
"Oh yes, I own one, I believe."
"And never read it! Bah, what good does it do you to have books if you
don't read 'em? Now I'm going to find out about this 'H-a-b-a-k-k-u-k,'
and then I shall know more than you do."
Mr. Ryan laughed a little, but withal seemed somewhat embarrassed. Tode
left him and sped back to his dusting.
"Queer chap that," muttered Mr. Ryan. "I don't know what to make of
him."
And a little sense of what might be termed shamefacedness stole over him
at the thought that this ignorant boy prized more highly his three
leaves of a Bible, picked out of the waste-basket, and possibly was
going to know more about it than he, Edgar Ryan, had gleaned from his
own handsomely bound copy, wherein his Christian mother had written
years ago his own loved name. Mr. Ryan, the cultivated young lawyer,
took down his handsome Bible from the shelf of unused books as soon as
he had reached his office, dusted it carefully, and turned over the
leaves to discover something about Habakkuk.
As for Tode, he literally poured over his three leaves. Very little of
the language did he understand--the great and terrible figures were
utterly beyond his knowledge; yet as he read them once, and again and
again, something of the grandeur and sublimity stole into his heart,
helped him without his knowledge, and now and then a word came home, and
he caught a vague glimpse of its meaning. "Thou art of purer eyes than
to behold evil." That was plain; that must mean the great All-seeing
Eyes, for Tode knew enough of human nature to have much doubt as to
whether any human eyes were pure. But then those unsleeping eyes _did_
behold evil--saw. Oh, Tode could conceive better than many a
Sabbath-school scholar can just how much evil there was to behold. How
was that? Ah! Tode's brain didn't know, couldn't tell; but into his
heart had come the knowledge that between all the evil men and women in
this evil world, and those pure eyes of an angry God, there stood the
blood-red cross of Christ.
There were many guests to be waited on; the tables were filling rapidly.
Tode was springing about with eager steps, handling deftly coffee,
oysters, wine, anything that was called for--bright, busy, brisk as
usual. As he set a cup of steaming coffee beside Mr. Ryan's plate, that
gentleman glanced up good-humoredly and addressed him.
"Well, Tode, how is Habakkuk?"
"First-rate, sir, only there's some queer things in it."
"I should think there was!" laughed Mr. Ryan, spilling his coffee in his
mirth. "Rather beyond you, isn't it?"
"Well, _some_ of it," said Tode, hesitatingly. "But it all means
_something_, likely, and I'm learning it, so I'll have it on hand to
find out about one of these days, when I find a lawyer or somebody who
can explain it, you know."
This last with a twinkle of the eye, and a certain almost noiseless
chuckle, that said it was intended to hit.
"You're learning it!" exclaimed Mr. Ryan, undisguised astonishment
mingling with his amusement.
"Yes, sir. Learn a figure a day. It's all marked off into figures, you
know, sir."
"Well, of all queer chaps, you're the queerest!"
And Mr. Ryan went off into another laugh as Tode sped away to a new
corner. By the time he was ready for a second cup of coffee, Mr. Ryan
was also ready with more questions.
"Well, sir, what's to-day's figure?"
"For the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the
Lord, as the waters cover the sea," repeated Tode, promptly and glibly.
"Indeed! and what do you make out of that?"
"It makes itself; and that's something that's going to be one of these
days."
"Oh, and what does the 'glory of the Lord' mean, Tode?"
"_I_ don't know; expect _he_ does, though," answered Tode, simply and
significantly.
Mr. Ryan didn't seem inclined to continue that line of questioning.
"Well," he said, presently, "let's turn to an easier chapter. What's
to-morrow's figure?"
"Don't know. I might look though, if you wanted to hear." And Tode drew
his precious three leaves from his vest pocket.
"Oh, you carry Habakkuk about with you, do you? Well, let's have the
figure by all means, only pass me that bottle of wine first."
But Tode's face paled and his limbs actually shook.
"I can't do it," he said at last.
"You can't! Why, what's up?"
"Just look for yourself, sir. It's the figure 15." And he thrust the bit
of leaf before the gay young lawyer, and pointed with his finger to the
spot.
Of all words that could have come before his eyes just then, it seemed
strange indeed that these should be the ones:
"Woe unto him that giveth his neighbor drink!"
"Pshaw!" said Mr. Ryan at last, with a little nervous laugh. "Don't be a
goose, Tode. Take your paper away and pass me the wine."
"I can't, sir," answered Tode, earnestly. "I promised him to-day, I did,
that I was going to do it all just as fast as I found it out."
"Promised who? What are you talking about?"
"Promised the Lord Jesus Christ, sir. I told him this very day."
"Fiddlesticks. You don't understand. This refers to drunkards."
"It don't say so," answered Tode, simply.
"Yes, it does. Don't it say, 'and makes him drunk?'"
"It says and makes him drunk _also_," Tode said, with a sharp, searching
look.
Mr. Ryan laughed that short nervous laugh again.
"You ought to study law, Tode," was all _he_ said. Then after a moment.
"I advise you to attend to business, and let Habakkuk look after
himself. Jim, pass that wine bottle this way."
This to another attendant who was near at hand, and Tode moved away to
attend to other wants, and to turn over in his mind this new and
startling thought.
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