knowledge of the theory of Divine truth, and became rooted and
grounded in its belief, she was received, with her husband, into
fellowship with the church. They both distinguished themselves by
their liberality, and by their activity in the various departments
of labour connected with my congregation; and Mr. Lobeck was
eventually elected an elder, by the unanimous choice of his
Christian brethren. There was one praiseworthy habit they formed
even before their membership; and from which no circumstances,
except illness or absence from home, could induce them to deviate;
and that was, neither to receive company, or pay any fraternal
visits on the evenings when public worship was conducted at the
chapel. They thus pursued their onward course with undeviating
consistency; walking worthy of their sacred vocation; an example
to their Christian brethren, in faith, in charity, and in zeal;
blending in their character so many lovely excellencies, as to
justify a beautiful remark made by an intelligent observer, that
they had sustained as little injury from the fall, as any couple he
had ever known.
Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, is an aphorism which was first
uttered by an inspired writer, and now it has passed into current
circulation amongst the faithful in Christ Jesus; and as all
chastisements, whether light and momentary, or heavy and prolonged,
are designed to yield the peaceable fruits of righteousness, they
should be submitted to with meek submissiveness of spirit, and
unwavering faith in their necessity and utility. In general the
Lord is pleased to give his people some intimations of their coming
trials, that they may look to him for strength and patience to
endure them; but sometimes he departs from this general rule, and,
as in the case of Job, the storm rises out of the dead calm--the
affliction is as sudden, as it is unexpected. The Lobecks had three
children, two sons and a daughter, the living personifications
of vigorous health and sprightliness; but the youngest child,
a beautiful little boy about seven years of age, sickened and
died within the space of a few hours. I hastened to the house of
mourning to offer the expressions of my sympathy; and there I saw
the intensity of parental sorrow, held in subjection to the triumph
of heroic faith. There was a dignified placidity in Mr. Lobeck's
countenance, but he could not repress the falling tear. "Our dear
child is taken from us," he said in a mild but firm tone; "yet we
must not forget that the Lord has done it, who has reasons for what
he does; he does all things well. He never errs."
"This, Sir," said the mother, "_is a great trial_. I feel it at the
very core of my heart. So sudden! We had no warning of its coming.
Our medical friend did not apprehend any danger. But how thankful
ought I to be to our heavenly Father, who has permitted me to see
the bow in the overhanging cloud; the dear little sufferer said,
just before he died, '_Ma, I am going to Jesus_.' Sweet words!"
"The bitter, my dear friend, often yields sweetness. He was
commissioned to announce to you his elevation, even before he had
seen the King in his beauty, and received his appointment."
"The sound of his sweet voice still lingers on my ear, but the
sweeter words of his lips have sunk deep into my heart; and they
soothe and comfort me. He is happy, because a glorified spirit; and
though I cannot help mourning over my loss, yet I dare not repine.
Yes, he is with Jesus, and must be safe and happy."
"You may mourn your loss. This is natural. Jesus wept at the grave
of his friend, even though he knew that he was coming back to
life. Your dear little one will long live in your memory. You will
often recall his form, his looks, his sweet smiles and embraces,
his inquiries and his sayings. These reminiscences will keep in
continuous flow the waters of maternal grief. But turn from his
grave, to heaven his present home. Think of his premature elevation,
his dignity, and his blessedness--the sorrows and the conflicts he
has escaped. Think of the honour which God has conferred on you; you
are now the mother of a glorified spirit."
"I feel it to be an honour, and a great honour. But I shall never
forget my sweet little Harry. He was the miniature of his father. I
watched his rapid growth, and the premature development of his mind
with intense pleasure. His looks, and speech, and manners were so
engaging. I anticipated his coming manhood. Alas! he is taken from
me."
"Taken from the evil to come; and the Lord has done it."
"I bow to his holy and sovereign will. He saw there was a necessity
for this severe stroke, or he would not have permitted it to fall
upon us. Perhaps we were too fond of our children, and getting too
fond of the world; and therefore he has sent this trial to wean our
affections from earth; to purify them; to concentrate them supremely
on himself."
"Many have been heard to say, It hath been good for me that I have
been afflicted. Hence afflictions, even the most severe, are not
positive evils; they are blessings in disguise to the people of God.
They unsettle the affections which were cleaving too closely to
earth; they elicit the hidden meaning of the precious promises of
the Bible, which distil the dew drops of Divine love on the heart;
and by giving palpable demonstrations of the vanity of all human
possessions, they imperceptibly invest the glory to be revealed with
a freshness of reality which is felt to be elevating and sublime."
At a subsequent interview, when adverting to this severe domestic
bereavement, she thus expressed herself:--"I can now say, what I
could not say before this trial came upon us--I know in whom I
believe. My fears and misgivings have all left me. I am happy,
because I know I am safe now; and expect to be more happy, when
heart and flesh faint and fail, because then the Lord will be my
portion for ever."
"Your dependence for safety and happiness, here and hereafter, is
not _now_ placed on your religious ceremonies, or on your virtuous
attainments."
"O no! It _was_, when I was living under the beguiling delusions of
the Tractarian heresy; but _now_ I can say with the apostle, 'Yea
doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the
knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss
of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ,
and be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is
of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the
righteousness which is of God by faith' (Philip. iii. 8, 9)."
"I congratulate you, my dear friend, in having lived to see this
day--a day of sorrow, but a day of greater joy and rejoicing. Your
husband has exchanged his long cherished scepticism for the faith of
Christ, and is now safe for eternity. Your dear little one is with
Jesus, in heaven, waiting your entrance. And you are now delivered
from all your perplexities and depressive fears, and can anticipate
the glory to be revealed in you."
"These, Sir, are facts, great facts, astounding facts. No delusions,
grand realities. What an escape has my dear husband had from the
subtle devices of scepticism, and what an escape have I had from
the equally fatal devices of Tractarian superstition; and I cannot
forget the subordinate part you have taken, in effecting these
deliverances; nor can I feel too grateful. I thank you for your
wise counsels, for your faithful warnings, for your sympathy and
your friendship; but my purest and most ardent gratitude is due, and
is often presented to HIM, who has produced these wonderful changes
in our character and condition."
"And they are changes, my dear friend, which we may look upon as
preludes and pledges of still more glorious changes, when the end
cometh. 'Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet
appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we
shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is' (1 John iii. 2)."
CHRISTMAS.
The Christmas season carries the mind back to the origin of our
faith, and all the wondrous events connected with it. It has been
made the time for gathering together family connections, and drawing
closer those bands of kindred hearts, which the cares, and sorrows,
and pleasures of the world are continually operating to cast
loose; of calling back the members of a family who have launched
forth into life, and wandered far asunder, once more to assemble
around the parental hearth, that rallying place of the affections,
there to grow young again among the endearing remembrances of
childhood. And though this season is commonly devoted by the gay
and the thoughtless to scenes of frivolous mirth, thus diverting
the attention from the contemplation of the glorious event which
the observance of Christmas Day is designed to commemorate, yet
that circumstance should not deter the pious Christian from
availing himself of the opportunity which national custom affords
of mingling in the friendly circle, and partaking of its innocent
gratifications. The spirit of our religion neither requires us to
shut ourselves up in a monastery, nor practise the austerities of
a recluse; but while it purifies the affections, and throws a
salutary restraint upon the appetites and passions, it permits us
to enjoy the comforts and the felicity of social intercourse. It
teaches moderation, but does not prohibit indulgence; it condemns
levity, but sanctions cheerfulness; and, like its illustrious
Author, it does not hesitate to attend the festive gathering, when
hallowed by the influences of pious friendship and domestic love.
Fully two years had now elapsed since my return from Fairmount, and
during the interval I had been engaged in close and unremitting
attention to the care of my flock, and I believe I may say, without
undue exultation, that my labours had been blessed. I frequently
corresponded with my country friends, and when, in the close of
18--, Mr. Stevens sent me a pressing invitation to spend the
Christmas with him, I resolved, after securing a suitable substitute
in my absence, to proceed to Watville, along with Mr. Llewellin, who
was to accompany me on my visit. We left London by the stage coach
on a fine frosty morning, the 23d of December, and as evening was
closing in we reached Salisbury, where we were to pass the night,
Mr. Llewellin having some business to transact there. Our journey
was exceedingly pleasant. After emerging from the smoke and bustle
of London, we passed through a beautiful country, attractive even in
winter, the aspect of which was all the more delightful to me from
my long previous confinement to a city. We travelled the greater
part of the way with two young gentlemen, who were going home to
spend the vacation. They were brothers, of nearly equal age--the one
destined for the profession of the law, the other for the church.
The elder boy was sprightly, the younger somewhat grave; both were
very agreeable and intelligent. With the happy buoyancy of youth ere
its day-dreams are dispelled by the sad experience of maturer years,
the present was to them a joyous reality, only to be exceeded by the
realization of the bright visions of the future. Their conversation
was the complete overflow of youthful spirits, rejoicing in the
release from school discipline, and the prospect of again meeting
their friends, and returning for a time to all their country
recreations. They also alluded to their prospects in life--of their
success, in which no desponding thought had as yet ever crossed
their minds; but, though thus sanguine in their anticipations, they
possessed too much good sense to suppose that distinction could be
attained without industry, or honour acquired without desert.
"I suppose, young gentlemen," said Mr. Llewellin, "you intend to
devote your holidays to amusement."
"Not entirely," said the young lawyer; "I intend to read history
at least two hours every morning;" "and I intend," said the young
divine, "to con over the classics as long, and then, Sir, to amuse
myself."
"I am happy to hear," added Mr. Llewellin, "that you have come to
such a decision; while your recreations unbend your minds from the
severity of close application, the adoption of such a habit will
keep them in trim for future service."
"Very true," replied the lawyer; "if we wish to rise to eminence, we
must redeem time, rather than suffer it to be wasted in indolence
and inactivity."
The young clergyman, who was looking out of the window, suddenly
exclaimed, "Here's old William standing at the gate with our horses,
and yonder is papa coming on Smiler across the close."
The coach stopped, and out stepped our interesting companions, who,
after bidding us adieu, left us to pursue our journey alone. We soon
lost sight of them, but, in the space of a few minutes, a turn in
the road revealed them again to our view; their father, alighting
from his horse, joyfully embraced his children, after which they all
mounted their steeds, and we watched them galloping off towards a
beautiful country-seat, which we had been admiring before our young
friends left us, but then had no idea that it was their destination.
The stage now drove on, and about five o'clock we were rattling
through the streets of Salisbury, where, after refreshing ourselves
at our inn, Mr. Llewellin sallied forth to transact the business
matter which had led us to take this route, and I ensconced myself
comfortably by the side of a blazing fire, where I commenced reading
Cheever's _Wanderings of a Pilgrim_, then just published. The charms
of the narrative entranced me, and I gradually lost myself, crossing
the pass of the Grand St. Bernard to the charming Val d'Aoste, or
sailing on the romantic Lake of Luzern. Mr. Llewellin was detained
for several hours; I accordingly had time to traverse a considerable
part of Switzerland in company with my pilgrim. He at length
appeared, and we shortly afterwards retired to rest. On getting up
in the morning I proposed a walk to the cathedral, as we had some
time to spare before the coach started. On reaching it (the hour for
morning service not having yet arrived) we found the attendants busy
decking the cathedral with evergreens for the ensuing day. Though
both Mr. Llewellin and myself were decided Dissenters, we could
nevertheless well appreciate the majesty of the noble structure in
which we were now standing, and feel even something of a religious
awe as we gazed down the long aisles, and listened to the echo of
our footsteps as they reverberated through the building.
"After all," observed Mr. Llewellin, "the simplest form of worship
appears to me the most to be commended, where the mind runs no
danger of mistaking the mere excitement of the imagination for a
burst of devotional feeling."
"Certainly," I returned; "and I quite agree with Cheever's remark
in his _Wanderings_, which I was reading last night, that it is
generally the period of greatest spiritual declension where we find
ecclesiastical architecture most magnificent. But hark!"
The organist had, unseen by us, ascended to the loft to practise;
and at this moment pealed forth a majestic voluntary, which
sublimely rolled away to the extremity of the building, and then
returned in a softer strain through the re-echoing aisles. Another
and another succeeded. We both stood for some moments rooted to the
spot, surrendering ourselves to the overpowering influence of the
sacred strain. The music ceased for a few moments, and, recovering
myself, I exclaimed, "Let us haste from this bewitching influence,
which I am afraid savours but too much of mere earthly excitement."
"I think so too," rejoined Mr. Llewellin; "and, nevertheless, I can
well understand the lines of the poet Gray:--
'Where through the long drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.'"
As our time was then nearly expired, we returned to our inn, and
shortly afterwards started again in the coach; and after a journey
of some hours, reached Watville, where we found Mr. Stevens'
carriage waiting to convey us to Fairmount. It is needless to say
how warmly we were welcomed by our friends, whom we had the pleasure
of finding in excellent health. Soon after the first greetings were
over, and we had arranged our toilet and made ourselves comfortable,
Mrs. Stevens, with a peculiar smile on her countenance, which _told
tales_, said to Mr. Llewellin, "Mr. and _Miss_ Roscoe are engaged
to spend the evening with us; no doubt this will be a gratification
to you." This communication at once raised his spirits, which had
been gradually sinking as we approached the end of our journey.
I was no longer at a loss to account for the sighs which had
occasionally made their escape from his breast during the short
intervals of silence that took place in the course of conversation.
His countenance now brightened up, and he seemed to be animated by a
more than usual flow of spirits.
A storm of snow began now to descend as we gathered snugly around
the cheerful fire, and for a time enjoyed ourselves in familiar
converse by its uncertain light. Candles had been brought, and Mrs.
Stevens was busying herself with the tea arrangements, when the
bell rang, and Mr. Roscoe was ushered into the parlour; but he came
alone. "I am sorry to inform you, Madam, that Sophia will not be
able to be with you this evening, as she has caught a cold."
"I hope, Sir," said Mr. Llewellin, with a certain awkwardness of
manner of which gentlemen are sometimes guilty when they feel _too
much to express_, "that she is not materially affected by it."
"O no, Sir, it is only a slight cold, and she is unwilling to
expose herself to the night-air, lest she should be incapable of
going to church in the morning."
After tea our conversation turned upon the festivals of the church,
and the propriety of observing those days which are set apart for
the celebration of the great events which stand connected with the
redemption of man. "I was once," said Mr. Roscoe, "superstitiously
attached to these days, and regarded them with more reverence than
I did the Sabbath; but I have now corrected the error into which I
had fallen, and though I still reverence them more than the common
days of the year, I do not look upon them as equal to the Sabbath in
obligation or sanctity."
"Some Dissenters," said Mrs. Stevens, "who wish to get as far away
from the church as they can, reprobate this observance as savouring
of Popery. Is it not so, Mr. Llewellin?"
"Yes, aunt, they do; and in doing so, they go from one extreme
to the other. Their aversion to superstition is so strong, that
they cannot observe these commemorative days of Christianity with
feelings of reverence and delight, because the zealous patrons
of the church invest many of them with more sanctity than they
attribute to the Sabbath. As time is the regular and unbroken
succession of minutes, hours, days, months, and years, one portion
of it cannot be more sacred than another, unless it derives a
sanctity from the command of God; and since he has enjoined the
observance of the Sabbath only, as that portion of time which we are
to hold sacred, we feel ourselves under no obligation to keep the
holidays which are set apart by mere human authority."
"But, Sir," interposed Mr. Roscoe, "though we do not exalt the
holidays of our church to equal sanctity with the Christian Sabbath,
yet as the recurrence of the anniversaries of great events in the
history of man is known to impart to past transactions a degree of
interest which is not so powerfully felt at other times, is there
not a propriety in observing these commemorative days, if we are
anxious to derive from past events the powerful lessons which they
ought to teach?"
"Most certainly," returned Mr. Llewellin. "I do not object to these
commemorative days, though some of my brethren do, but gladly avail
myself of them, as a means of recalling to remembrance the great
facts which stand inseparably connected with my redemption. I can go
with you to church on a Christmas morning, to celebrate the birth
of my Saviour--on a Good Friday, to commemorate his death--and on
an Easter Sunday, to rejoice in his resurrection. And though some
may censure this as a dereliction of principle, I do not so view it.
It gives me greater pleasure to unite with my fellow-Christians,
than to live in a state of alienation from them: and while I
would condemn all superstitious attachment to these days, I would
reprobate the spirit which treats them with contempt."
"I am happy to find," observed Mrs. Stevens, "that you have not
lost your catholic spirit by associating with your brethren in the
metropolis; and I hope you have been the means of diffusing its
mellowing influence amongst them--softening down their prejudices,
and bringing them over to a more friendly intimacy with their
fellow-Christians of the Establishment."
"Since you left us," rejoined Mr. Roscoe, "I have examined some of
the reasons which induce you to dissent from our Establishment:
and though they have not produced the same effect on my mind which
they have on yours, yet I think it right to confess, that they have
convinced me of the impropriety of censuring you, and of the folly,
not to use a stronger term, of allowing a difference of opinion on
minor questions of religion to operate as a barrier to Christian
fellowship."
"I am really happy to hear you make such a concession; it exactly
accords with my own views:" and turning towards Mrs. Stevens, he
said, "You seem to think, aunt, that all the bigotry of religion is
on our side."
"Quite enough of it," she replied.
"Too much, I grant; but with all due deference, I think that you of
the Establishment have the greatest share amongst yourselves."
[Illustration: CHRISTMAS EVE.
Vol. i. page 551.]
"Bigotry amongst us! A libel! a libel!" Mrs. Stevens returned, with
an expression of feigned indignation.
"I suppose, aunt, you are become a believer in the modern doctrine
of libel; which teaches us, that _the greater the truth, the greater
the libel_."
"Well, well, we won't contest this point; but rather regret that
there should be still found amongst any of us a vestige of that
anti-Christian spirit, which keeps asunder those who are united in
the bonds of the everlasting covenant, and who look forward to dwell
together in that heavenly world, where no discordant notes will ever
break the harmony of holy fellowship."
"It is when we view religion," remarked Mr. Roscoe, "as connected
with this world--as coming in contact with our prejudices, and
our passions--as trespassing upon the sanctity of our opinions,
and threatening to disturb them, that we imperceptibly imbibe an
anti-Christian feeling towards those who differ from us: but when we
view it as connected with eternity--as involving the glory of God in
the transformation of the human character; and when we distinctly
recognize the action of his power, in setting apart a peculiar
people to display before the men of the world a palpable evidence
of the unity of our essential faith, our mind becomes imperceptibly
imbued with the spirit of the Redeemer, who loves no disciple _more_
because he is a Churchman, and no disciple _less_ because he is a
Dissenter--having given his life a ransom for all who trust in him
for salvation."
The conversation was here interrupted by the sweet voices of
children singing a Christmas carol in front of the house. We
listened for some minutes, when Mrs. Stevens proposed that the choir
should be invited into the hall, where they would be sheltered from
the snow which was drifting against them. I immediately opened the
door, which threw them into some confusion, and they were on the
eve of scampering away. I requested them to come in; and taking
hold of the hand of the youngest girl, I brought her into the hall,
when, after some backwardness and hesitation, the rest cheerfully
followed her. Mrs. Stevens welcomed them, and was pleased to
recognize in the young singers some of her own Sunday scholars, who,
in spite of snow and drift, had carried out this plan of showing
their attachment to her. Their bonnets and cloaks were taken off;
and after they had had some refreshment and warmed themselves by
the fire, Mr. Llewellin consented to play on the piano, and we
all joined the youthful choristers in singing the praises of the
Redeemer. Thus pleasantly passed away the hours of the evening,
without entailing guilt or self-reproach; and having rewarded those
who came to afford us gratification, we allowed them to depart,
happy and contented.