THE SILENT WITNESS.
That Bible reading! I wish I could make it appear to you as it did to
Flossy Shipley. Not that either, because I trust that the sound of the
Bible verses is not so utterly new to you as it was to her--rather, that
it might sound to you as it did to the earnest-souled young man who sat
beside her, taking in ever; word with as much eagerness as if some of
the verses had not been his dear and long-cherished friends; nay, with
more eagerness on that account.
Do you know Dr. Parsons, of Boston? It was he who conducted that
reading, and his theme was, "The Coming of the Lord."
Let me give you just a few of the groupings as he called them forth
from his congregation under the trees, and which he called "the Lord's
own testimonies to his coming:"
"Watch therefore, for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come."
"Therefore, be ye also ready; for in such an hour as ye think not the
Son of man cometh." "Watch therefore, for ye know neither the day nor
the hour wherein the Son of man cometh." "Take ye heed, watch and pray:
for ye know not when the time is."
Four solemn warnings from the Head of the vineyard. They reached to
Flossy's very soul, and she had that old well-known thrill of feeling
that almost every Christian has some time experienced.
"If _I_ had only been there; if He had spoken such words to _me_, I
could never, never have forgotten, or been neglectful. If I could only
have heard Him speak!" And as if in answer to this longing cry Dr.
Parsons himself read the next solemn sentence, read it in such a way
that it almost seemed as if this might be the sacred garden, and
_Himself_ standing among the olive-trees speaking even to _her_:
"And what I say unto you I say unto all, Watch." Here, then, was her
direction from His own lips. Though centuries had passed since He spoke
them they echoed down to her. She was not overwhelmed; she was not
crushed by the new and solemn sense of her calling that flowed over her.
The Lord himself was there in every deed, and whispered in her ear, "It
is I, be not afraid." And her heart responded solemnly, "Aye, Lord, I
feel thy presence; I have been sleeping, but I am awake, and from
henceforth I _will_ watch."
That Bible reading was like a whole week of theological study to Flossy.
It was not that she learned simply about the blessed assurance, the
weight of testimony amounting to an absolute certainty, concerning the
coming of the Lord. But there were so many truths growing out from that,
so many incentives to be up and doing; for she found before the reading
closed that one must not only watch, but in the watching work; and there
were so many reasons why she should, and so many hints as to the way and
the time. Then there was, also, the most blessed discovery that the
Bible was not a book to treat like an arithmetic. That one must read
through the Book of Genesis, and then go on to Exodus, a chapter to-day,
two chapters to-morrow, and perhaps some days, when one was not in too
great a hurry and could read very fast, take half a dozen chapters, and
so get through it. But she learned that there were little connecting
links of sweetness all the way through the book; that she had a right to
look over in Revelation for an explanation of something that was stated
in Deuteronomy. She did not learn all this, either, at this one time;
but she got a vivid hint of it, strong enough to keep her hunting and
pulling at the lovely golden thread of the Bible for long years to come.
There were special points about the closing verses that throbbed in her
heart, and awakened purposes that never slept again. It was the
gentleman who sat beside her who read the solemn words of the verse:
"But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in which the
heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt
with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall
be burned up. Seeing then that all these things shall be dissolved,
what manner of persons ought ye to be in all holy conversation and
godliness?"
His voice was very earnest, and his face had an eager look of solemn
joy.
From it she felt the truth that while the words which he had been
reading were full of solemnity, and while he felt the sense of
responsibility, there was also that in them which filled his heart with
great joy, for when that time should come would not he be with his Lord?
Again, when a little later he gave the closing verses of this wonderful
lesson, reading them from her Bible, because in the dimness the print
was larger and clearer than his own, they made the conclusion of the
whole matter:
"Ye are the children of light, and the children of the day; we are not
of the night, nor of the darkness. Therefore let us not sleep as do
others, but let us watch and be sober."
He marked it with his pencil as he finished reading, and as he returned
the book to her keeping he said with a smile:
"We will, shall we not?"
And it felt to Flossy like a convenant, witnessed by the Lord himself.
But Dr. Parsons, you know, knew nothing of all this. Chautauqua was the
place for sowing the seed; they could only hope that the Lord of the
vineyard was looking on and watching over the coming harvest; it was not
for their eyes to see the fruits.
Sunday morning at Chautauqua! None of all the many hundreds who spent
the day within the shadow of that sweet and leafy place have surely
forgotten how the quaint and quiet beauty of the place and its
surroundings fell upon them; they know just how the birds sang among
those tall old trees; they know just how still and blue and clear the
lake looked as they caught glimpses of it through the quivering green of
myriad leaves; they know just how clearly the Chautauqua bells cut the
air and called to the worship. It needs not even these few words to
recall the place in its beauty to the hearts of those who worshiped
there that day; and for you who did not see it nor feel its power there
is no use to try to describe Chautauqua. Only this, it is a place to
love and look back to with a sort of sweet and tender longing all your
lives.
Our girls felt somewhat of the sacredness of the place; at least they
went around with a more decided feeling that it was Sunday than they had
ever realized before. Three of them did.
To Flossy this day was like the revelation of a new heaven and a new
earth. Her first Sunday in Christ!
There was no sunshine, neither was there rain. Just a hush of all
things, and sweetness everywhere.
After breakfast Ruth and Marion lolled on their cots and studied the
programme, while the other two made hasty toilets, and announced their
intention of going to Sunday-school.
"What in the name of sense takes you?" queried Marion, rising on one
elbow, the better to view this strange phenomena.
"Why I have a mission," Eurie said. "About three thousand people have
been talking all this week about teaching a few Bible verses to some
children to-day, and I am going to find out what they are, and what is
so wonderful about them. Besides, I was taken for a being named Miss
Rider, and on inquiry I find her to be what they call an infant-class
teacher, so I am going to hunt her up and see if we look alike and are
affinities."
Flossy chose to make no answer at all, and presently the two departed
together to attend their first Sabbath-school since they were known as
children. As they passed a certain tent Eurie's ready ears gained
information from other passers-by:
"This is where the little children are; Miss Rider is going to teach
them."
Eurie halted.
"_I'm_ going in here," she said, decidedly, to Flossy. "That is the very
lady I am in search of." And seeing Flossy hesitate, she added: "Oh, you
may go on, it is just as well to divide our forces; we may each have
some wonderful adventure. You go your way and I will go mine, and we'll
see what will come of it."
The tent was full apparently; but that spirit which was rife at
Chautauqua, and which prompted everybody to try to look out a little for
the comfort of everybody else, made a seat full of ladies crowd a little
and make room for her. Rows and rows of little people with smiling faces
and shining eyes! It was a pretty sight. Eurie gave eager attention to
the lady who was talking to them, and laughed a little to herself over
the dissimilarity of their appearance.
"Hair and eyes and height, and everything else, totally unlike me!" she
said. "She is older than I, too, ever so much. She doesn't look as I
thought Miss Rider would."
But what she was saying proved to be very interesting, not only to the
little people, but to Eurie. She listened eagerly. It was important to
discover what had been so stirring the Sunday-school world all the week.
She was not left in doubt; the story was plainly, clearly, fascinatingly
told; it was that tender one of the sick man so long waiting, waiting to
be helped into the pool; disappointed year after year, until one blessed
day Jesus came that way and asked one simple question, and received an
eager answer, and gave one brief command, and, lo! the work was done!
The long, long years of pain and trial were over! Do you think this
seemed like a wonderful story to Eurie? Do you think her cheeks glowed
with joy over the thought of the great love and the great power of
Jesus?
Alas, alas! to her there was no beauty in him. This simple tender story
did not move her as the commonplace account of a common sickness and
common recovery given in a village paper would have done. The very most
that she thought of it was this: "That Miss Rider has a good deal of
dramatic power. How well she tells the story! But dear me! how stupid it
must be. What is the use of taking so much trouble for these little
midgets? They don't understand the story, and of what use would it be to
them if they did? Something that happened to somebody hundreds of years
ago."
But now her attention was arrested by the sound of a very loud whisper
just behind her, given in a childish voice. "Miss Rider, Miss Rider,"
the child was saying, and emphasizing her whisper by a pull at a lady's
dress. Eurie turned quickly; the dress belonged to a young, fair girl,
with fresh glowing face and large bright eyes, that shone now with
feeling as she listened eagerly to this story, and to the comments of
the children concerning it. Then she in turn whispered to the lady
nearest her: "Is it Miss Rider who is teaching?" "No, it is Mrs. Clark,
of Newark. That is Miss Rider leaning against a post."
Then Eurie looked back to her. "She is no older than I," she murmured;
"indeed not so old, I should think. Her hair must be exactly the color
of mine, and we are about the same height. I wonder if we _do_ look in
the least alike? What do I care!" Yet still she looked; the bright face
fascinated her. The little child had won the lady's attention; and the
lips and eyes, and indeed the whole face, were vivid with animation as
she bent low and answered some troubled question, appealing to the
diagram on the board, and making clear her answer by rapid gestures with
her fingers. The lady beside Eurie volunteered some more information.
"Miss Rider was to have taught this class, I heard. I wonder why she
didn't?"
"I don't know," Eurie answered, briefly. Then she looked back at her
again. "She is jealous," she said to herself. "She was to have taught
this class this morning, and by some blundering she was left out, and
she is disgusted. She will say that such teaching as this amounts to
nothing; she could have done it five times as well; or, if she doesn't
_say_ that last, she will think it and act it. I have no doubt these
rival teachers cordially hate each other, like politicians."
Nevertheless that fresh young face, with its glow of feeling, fascinated
her. She kept looking at her; she gave no more attention to the lesson.
What was it, after all, but an old story that had nothing to do with
her; the fact that it was taken from the Bible was proof enough of that.
But she watched Miss Rider. The session closed and that lady pressed
forward to assist in giving out papers. The crowd pushed the willing
Eurie nearer to her, so near that she could catch the sentence that she
was eagerly saying to the lady near her.
"Isn't Mrs. Clark delightful? It was such a beautiful lesson this
morning. I think it is such a treat and such a privilege to be allowed
to listen to her. Yes, darling," this last to another little one
claiming a word, "of course Jesus can hear you now, just as well as
though He stood here. He often says to people, 'Wilt thou be made
whole?' He has said so to you this morning."
Eurie turned away quickly. She had had her lesson. It wasn't from the
Bible, nor yet did she find it in those hundred little faces so eager
to know the story in all its details. It was just in that young face not
so old as hers, so bright, so strong, so thoroughly alert, and so
thoroughly enlisted in this matter. The vivid contrast between that life
and hers struck Eurie with the force of a new revelation.
She went to the general service under the trees; she heard a sermon from
Dr. Pierce, so full of power and eloquence that to many who heard it
there came new resolves, new purposes, new plans. I beg her pardon, she
did not listen; she simply occupied a seat and looked as though she was
a listener.
But the truth was, she had not learned yet to listen to sermons. The
very fact that it was a sermon made it clear to her mind that there was
to be nothing in it for her; this had been her education. In reality,
during that hour of worship she was engaged in watching the changeful
play of expression on Miss Rider's face, as her eyes brightened and
glowed with enthusiasm or trembled with tears, according as the
preacher's words roused or subdued her.
Well, Eurie had her lesson. It was not from the Bible, it was not from
the preacher's lips except incidentally, but it was from a living
epistle. "Ye shall be witnesses of me," was the promise of Christ in the
long ago, just before the cloud received him out of sight. Is not that
promise verified to us often and often when we know it not?
Miss Rider had no means of knowing as she sat a listener that Sabbath
morning that she was witnessing for Christ. But she was just as surely
speaking for him as though she had stood up amid that throng and said:
"I love Jesus." "Ye are my witnesses, saith the Lord." And the poet has
said: "They also serve who only stand and wait." Blessed are those in
whom the waiting and the service go together.