out, 'Mind the little 'un;' then there was a fall and a cry--Meg's
cry--and I ran out, to see the landlady catch her up, and the blood
flowing from a great gash in the forehead. 'Pure accident,' some one
said; but I caught hold of Meg, the landlady bound her up somehow, and I
rushed home with her--home to her mother, and the sight of the child
seemed to put life into Alice; she fondled and sang to the little one in
a way that almost broke my heart. The doctor came and bound the head up,
but the little eyes were fast closed and he gave no hope.
"Once she opened the little eyes, gave one stare wild enough to shudder
at, and then closed them; so we sat, Alice with her on her breast in
bed, and I on a chair by the side.
"'John,' said Alice, 'I don't think I shall be here long, and I want to
talk to you a bit; will you listen?'
"I nodded, for I could not speak.
"'Before I knew you, John, I used to read my Bible and pray to God;
since then I have given it up; you did not like it, John; but I have got
to die; and it's all dark now, husband. What am I to do?'
"I kept quite still; what could I say?
"'John, I'm too weak to read now; won't you read a bit to me, and give
me a little comfort before I die--if there is any for me?'
"Not for years had I touched the book she spoke of, and where to find it
now I did not know; but I hunted round, for I thought, if this will give
her ease, I'm bound to try; and at last I found it behind the tea-tray.
I asked her where to read; she said anywhere. So I opened and read where
Jesus went into a house in which a little child lay dead; how the people
mocked and jeered Him when He said she slept (and I looked at our poor
Meg, so white and pained, wondering if He would have come to her); how
Jesus took that little girl's hand, her cold, dead hand, and said,
'Arise.'
"'Oh, John, if He were only here to speak to Meg and make her well!'
said Alice.
"'Perhaps it's only a tale,' I said--and stopped.
"'No, John,' said Alice. 'When I was well I could live and not think
much of Him; but since I've been ill He seems very real to me sometimes;
even now, John, I believe He is here!'
"Mates, that was a cold, dark night, and the wind howled outside, the
fire was all but out, and the candle flickered about with the draught. I
tell you I felt bad, for her words did seem so full of meaning, her eyes
almost looked me through.
"'John, if He's here, He can save our Meg. John dear, won't you ask Him?
Won't you pray?'
"'Alice, I can't; I don't know how.'
"'Husband, look at the darling; think of her--of her! John, try. Oh,
John, try!'"
The whole group of navvies gathered round him here with open eyes and
strained ears, watching eagerly for what was coming.
"I don't know what voice whispered back her words like an echo; but I
heard, and fell upon my knees crying to the Lord--if He was there--to
have mercy on my sinful soul, and to heal our little lamb. Oh, mates,
how I did cry, to be sure! and how I did hope it might be true that He
was there! for I felt sure, if He was, He would help us--the old story I
had learned years before and forgotten so long--the story of His cruel
death, seemed to rise like a strange bright picture in the awful
stillness of that room: how He died for _sinners_, that such might be
brought back to God--this broke down my hardened heart. Just then,
whilst I was on my knees, and the tears of penitence were on my cheeks,
Meg, dear little Meg, opened her eyes once more. 'Oh, father, I have had
such a beautiful dream,' she said; 'the Lord whom mammy loves has come,
and called to such a lovely house your poor tired Meg. Father, take care
of dear mammy!'
"The little eyes grew more weary, closed at last, and with one long sigh
Meg was gone to the lovely home."
The rough men were touched indeed as he stopped to gasp down his
emotion.
"Lads, the mother went before long, clinging to the Lord whom Meg saw,
resting on His word as she passed through the Valley of the Shadow into
the Light beyond. The old place was too full of sorrow for me; so I
wandered on till I got to this place; and if I'm quiet, it is because I
think of them. Ever as I work the sense of His presence is with me;
their dying words are in my ears. Oh! mates, take my story home to your
hearts--home to your wives and little ones, and with them seek the
Saviour, whose love so strangely made me turn from evil unto God."
Not a word had interrupted him all through; but now Sam's voice was
heard but little above a whisper,
"Mate, we want the song."
John cleared his voice a little, and, as the men hushed down again,
sang:--
"I stay a little while below;
The changing seasons come and go,
But Christ my joy heals every woe,
In Him I live and fear no foe.
"The night is dark and sad to me,
But even in the gloom I see
My Saviour bright who died to free
My soul from misery.
"Though He has taken those above
Who once have cheered me with their love,
Clad in the robe His hands have wove,
They safely rest, where'er I rove.
"So still to Him my steps do tend;
His power is present to defend;
On His sweet mercy I depend;
His love to me will never end.
"Friends, come to Him, just as you are;
His arms of mercy reach as far
As ever son of man can need;
His blood can pardon, and His love can feed."
[Illustration: Hay-makers piling hay on wagons]
IX. HARVEST HOME.
Go and stand on the hill yonder, and look round. What do you see? Gold
here--gold there--gold everywhere!
All so busy--so earnest.
"How is Mr. Sharp's barley?" says one. "How will Mr. Bell's wheat turn
out, think you?" says another. "Oh," cries a third, "if the fine weather
does but hold we shall do well. It was a very good change of the moon,
and I hope to get in my bit in safety."
The trouble is to get labourers. When there is no work about there is
plenty of grumbling among labourers; and no wonder, for if they don't
work, how can they eat? and when there is abundance of work there is
plenty of grumbling among employers; and no wonder, for if hands are so
scarce, and wages run so high, that it is almost impossible to house the
grain and seed in time, where is the rent to come from? Well, this is a
world where grumbling is to be looked for, but there is a harvest coming
at the close of it when all murmurs, all cares, will be done away; when
the reapers, who will be the holy angels, will be enough for their work,
and when no fear that a single grain of good seed will perish, but all
will be safely gathered into the heavenly garner.
Now, here is a true story, though the names of the people are not given,
because they are yet alive; very likely they may see this, and if they
do, they will exclaim, "Oh, yes; this is true indeed!"
There was a great revival of religion in a certain parish; many persons
who had lived in utter deadness as to God and a world to come were
awakened out of their sleep, and wept and prayed earnestly for faith to
the saving of their souls. The picture of the great Harvest Home was
brought before them with such power that they felt nothing was of
consequence compared with the question of their being among the tares or
the wheat.
A lady, who was staying there on a visit, was much touched by what she
saw around her, and especially interested in one woman, who gave proof
that her repentance was sincere, and her faith a living faith.
She often thought of this poor woman--for she was very poor--after her
return home; and having met with a book which she thought would give
comfort and encouragement, she put it by, determining to send it some
time. But "some time" did not satisfy her, she had so strong a desire
to do it at once, that she folded it up to post it. Still, she was not
satisfied--what more had she to do? It came into her mind, "Put in
half-a-crown; she is very poor, and it will be a help to her." So she
put in the half-crown, directed the parcel plainly and fully, and put it
in the post. The postman next day duly delivered the packet to the
woman. "Oh," she said, not opening it, "this must be a mistake, I don't
know anybody that would send a book to me. You had best inquire who
expected one" (perhaps there were others of her name in the place, but
this I do not know). The postman recommended her to open it and see if
she could make out that it was hers, he would inquire on his return if
she still said it was not.
With the parcel in her hand she met a neighbour who, like herself, now
feared the Lord and lived in prayer. "What have you there?" she said.
"Oh, it's a parcel that must have come by mistake," she replied. "I know
nobody away from home--and look!" she exclaimed as she untied the paper
and the half-crown dropped out. They consulted together, and wondered
much who it could be that had sent it; but guessed wrong altogether, and
made sure they had done so. At length the neighbour said, "Have you been
asking the Lord for anything lately?" "No, nothing particular, except it
was for the money to pay my club that is due to-day, and if I don't pay
in I am forfeit, you know!" "Good, now," said the neighbour; "don't you
see who has sent it? Why, the Lord, to be sure. He heard your prayer,
and knew it was just what you wanted; so He put it into some Christian
heart to send it. Go and pay it in (it was just the money), and give Him
the thanks."
Now, see what it is to be one of the grains of wheat that are to be
gathered into His garner! When the harvest comes the angels will look
after the very smallest, and not only so, but till then the very
smallest and meanest will be kept and cared for and ministering spirits,
either of their fellow Christians (like this lady) or those blessed
creatures who, we are told, "are sent forth to minister to the heirs of
salvation," will be employed by their Saviour to help them in every
need.
"Ah! but I have seen Christians left a long time in great trouble," says
one. "So have I," says another. Have you? Well, be sure of this, while
God's word stands true it must have been that they neglected fervent
prayer to be helped out of it; or else their remaining in trouble was
for their good in the end; for it is written, "All things whatsoever ye
shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive," and it is written
also, "No good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly."
A gentleman who farmed his own land and was known to treat his labourers
well had a company of Irishmen every year--year after year, who came to
work all through the harvest. They were very sober, clean, hard-working,
and well conducted; so that they were allowed to sleep in a barn, and
had the use of a fire in the back kitchen to boil their milk (which was
given them) and their potatoes. They felt quite at home when they got to
this estate, and had as much confidence in the kindness of their
employers as they had in them.
One day one of them, Paddy Brady, asked to see the lady of the house.
She was a most benevolent woman, and took a lively interest in these
Irish reapers. Paddy, making his most genteel bow (she used to say they
were quite gentlemen in their manners), asked her if she would be so
obliging as to direct a letter for him.
"Surely, Paddy, I will," she answered, "but if you can write a whole
letter yourself, why can't you direct it?"
"Sure, it's another thing quite," said Paddy. "Biddy Brady, my wife,
knows me so well she can read the inside as plain as if I was speaking;
but there's never a one of the men as'll carry it across the water as
has got the least bit of notion of me, and how can they read my writing,
so strong of the brogue?"
The lady couldn't see the wisdom of this reason, but she didn't like to
interfere with Paddy's view, and he was satisfied with it. So, though
she laughed to herself, the letter was directed according to his desire.
"And now, my lady, if you'd just do me the favour to give me one of them
things to put in the corner, I'll pay you for it and thank you all the
same as if you gave it out of your free generosity," said Paddy, who
looked with admiration at the direction, which, however, would have
given him more trouble to read than his own writing--"so strong of the
brogue" within.
The lady took a Queen's head and put it on the letter, refusing the
penny. "Put by the penny," she said, "you will have that much more to
carry home to your wife."
"God bless you, my lady! I hope I'll have to work for you many years
yet; and beyant all and everything I hope we'll both get good luck in
the grand harvest that's to come at the end!"
His eyes were full of grateful feeling as he spoke, and she was, as you
will believe, much touched with his simple earnestness.
There was everything in Paddy's wish. Whether he knew anything of the
Lord of the harvest, and, in spite of ignorance and the false teaching
of his priest, looked for His coming with hope and love, I cannot say;
but certain it is, to be under the care of the angel reapers there,
instead of being left to the winds of destruction, should be every one's
chief concern.
[Illustration: Harvest]
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