"For Better, for Worse"
Marriage is a most important step in the life of any person; happiness
or misery in this world depend on it far more than many young people
think. Nothing demands more careful thought, discrimination, and
prayer, than the choice of a life partner. Especially professors of
religion should consider this, lest they be tempted to break the
apostolic injunction, and become "unequally yoked together with
unbelievers."
It is painful to see how little regard is paid to this subject by some
who profess to be disciples of Jesus, and yet allow their affections to
be centred upon someone of the world. Pleased by an attractive
appearance, winning manners, or something else of this kind, they are
beguiled away beyond the line of demarcation which divides the church
from the world, until, by-and-bye, they consummate a union of the
flesh, where there cannot be a union of spirit, and light and darkness
make a poor attempt to dwell together.
Self-deception is a very easy thing in matters of this sort; it is
seldom difficult to find arguments in favour of that which the heart is
set upon. The one that knows the Lord, will pray until the other is
brought to him; neither will be guilty of casting the slightest
hindrance in the way of the other, etc., etc., but how often have these
pretty delusive devices been cast to the winds, or broken to atoms like
glass toys in after life, and their framers made to pay the bitter
penalties of disappointment, regret, and even backsliding for their
early transgressions? The selection of a husband or wife is not a
question of mere sentiment or feeling, but one which involves an
important principle. In making it, we should take God into our
counsel, and abide by His decisions. A young man who was a member in
one of our churches once opened his mind to me on this subject; he very
much admired a young person whom he mentioned; he said he had been
praying about marriage with her for some time, and had left it entirely
with the Lord, but said he, "I must have her, come what may." Prayer
with submission like that is only a solemn mockery, and is sure to meet
with its deserved reward. If we ask God to guide us, we must permit
Him to lead; and whether the outcome suit our feelings or not, we may
rest assured it will be for our ultimate welfare.
In the choice of his wife Abe Lockwood was wisely led, as a long and
happy life together afterwards proved. It appears that soon after his
conversion, Abe, who was always fond of singing, joined the choir of
the Huddersfield Chapel. That was the age before organs were thought
of in Methodist places of worship; other musical instruments obtained
in those good old times: fiddles and bass viols, clarionets, flutes,
hautboys, cornets, trombones, bassoons and serpents, delighted the ears
and stirred the souls of our forefathers with their sacred harmony.
Grand old times those were too; there was some scope for the musical
genius and taste of men in those days, when if a man could not
manipulate the keys and evoke the religious tones of a clarionet, he
might vent his zeal in the trombone, or make melody on a triangle;
then, the orchestra was a kind of safety valve, where zealous men might
exert their powers until they were bathed in perspiration and
exhausted. In those days the musicians were men of considerable
influence in the public services; they could any time keep the
congregation waiting while they tuned up to harmony, or while the first
fiddle mended his string, or rosined his stick. True, a little
accident would occasionally happen in the midst of the service, such as
the falling of a bridge, but nobody was hurt, it was only a
fiddle-bridge; a nervous preacher might be just a little startled by
the thwack behind him, and a few of the light sleepers might be
suddenly aroused from their deep meditations to venture an
inappropriate response; and other little matters might occasionally
happen, as when some conspicuous instrument became excited, and played
somewhat sharper than the others in the band, thereby giving a twinge
of neuralgia to a few sensitive persons in the congregation; but then
they shouldn't be so sensitive,--others were not, not even the
musicians, and why should they? Besides, all these things, and a great
many more, too numerous to mention, helped to throw some variety and
feeling into the proceedings, and frequently afforded matter for lively
conversation when the people came out of chapel. Can any one wonder,
therefore, that the musical taste of the past should steadfastly resist
every effort to bring about a change in the composition and conduct of
our chapel orchestras?
Abe lived and flourished as a singer in those good old days, and it was
one of his greatest enjoyments to take his place among the singers in
the old High Street Chapel, and raise his alto voice in honour of Him
"whose praise can ne'er be told."
But there was another little pleasure which Abe very much enjoyed after
the services, and that was to walk home in company with a young woman,
one of the singers, too, named Sarah Bradley. She lived at Berry Brow,
and was a member in the same class as himself; she was about his own
age, and while she made no pretensions to beauty, she was what the
neighbours called "a real bonny lass." Abe thought her the nicest and
handsomest young woman he ever gazed upon. She was the very light of
his eyes, and her conversation was real music to him; he was so charmed
with her, that he would run a mile any time to look at her bonny face;
his affections were entirely won by her,--which was, by the way, no
little pleasure to herself, inasmuch as she regarded him with very
similar feelings.
There seemed quite a propriety in the mutual affection of these two
young people; it was, to say the least of it, quite patriarchal that
Abraham should love Sarah; but whether Abe ever thought of Scripture
precedent for indulging such sentiment or not, one thing is certain, he
followed the example set by one of old, and took Sarah to be his wife.
The wedding took place on the 10th May, 1818. There was no extravagant
or improvident display on the occasion. Abe did, however, put on his
best clothes, and stay from work for that day; and Sally, as he now
began to call her, appeared in a stuff dress, that served as her Sunday
frock for a long time afterwards. A few friends attended the ceremony
by invitation, and a few more of the gentler sex just dropped in as
they were, to see that the affair was properly done, as well as to
indulge a pardonable liking for that kind of religious service. Some
of them probably never attended a place of worship except on such
interesting occasions, or in connection with a christening. Here,
then, was an opportunity for these people to indulge their select
tastes, and they failed not to embrace it.
The ceremony over, the happy pair came forth to be pelted, according to
custom, with rice and old shoes, symbolizing the wishes of the
bystanders, that all through life they might enjoy plenty, prosperity,
and good luck. Then came the walk home through the village arm-in-arm;
Abe nervous, and Sally blushing under the kind yet familiar
congratulations of their friends.
The day was spent in a quiet, happy manner among the members of the
wedding party, and nothing particular occurred until a little before
seven o'clock in the evening, when all at once Abe got up, reached down
his hat, and prepared for going out.
"Where's ta going?" someone asked. Sally was looking at him rather
curiously, as if she could not understand his movements.
"Why," said he, "doant yoa know it's my class noight?"
"Well, what by that? they'll niver expect thee t'-noight."
"Oh, but I mun goa."
All present laughed right heartily at his remark, and one of them said,
"Nay, lad, thaa mu'nt goa t'-noight and leave th' wife and all th'
friends; foak 'll laugh at thee."
"Let 'em laugh; th' devil 'll laugh if I doant goa, and foak 'll laugh
if I do. I'm sure to be laughed at, ony way; I'll goa." He looked at
Sally for a moment, and saw, at any rate, that she understood him,
although she did smile; so opening the door he shot out, saying, "I
shalln't be long, lass." He went to his meeting just the same as
usual, and no matter to Abe if his leader and class-mates were all
surprised to see him, he was quite as comfortable as if a wedding were
an every-day event with him. Abe's maxim was to allow no hindrance to
stand in the way of his duty to God. Christ came first with him, his
wife stood next; and as he began, so he continued through all his
marriage life.
This worthy couple began housekeeping in a very humble way,--it was
really "love in a cot,"--and with very limited means; but they were
happy in each other and happy in God. Sally made a good wife, and
contributed greatly not only to her husband's happiness, but also to
his usefulness in the Church. Too much can hardly be said in honour of
that humble and devoted woman, whose great study, during all their life
together, was to make home most attractive to her husband, and his
path, as a Christian, easy. When the charge of a large family came
upon them, she cheerfully and studiously undertook the multitudinous
little offices and cares that always come, under the circumstances, and
threw as little as possible upon her partner in the house; for she used
to say, "Dear man, he has enough to do to find us in bread, without
troubling to put it into our mouths." Ah, and when there was scarcely
even bread for them, which often happened in those hard times, she
would scorn to murmur at her husband, or utter a word that seemed like
a reflection upon him; no, she was united to him "for better, for
worse," and she bore whatever came with a noble and patient fortitude.
Many a time, however, had she, poor thing, to go to her heavenly Father
with her cares, and vent her anguish in a shower of tears, which Abe
never saw, and perhaps never heard about; and when he came home from
his day's toil, she always tried to have a cheerful face and a smile
for the dear man.
Besides attending to the duties of her household like an exemplary
wife, she was often engaged in her own house _burling_ cloth for the
manufacturers, by which means she earned a scanty addition to their
income. Frequently when Abe retired to rest, she would pretend she was
scarcely ready, and then, after he had fallen soundly asleep, she might
be seen by the dim light of a candle, hour after hour, till far away
into the morning, picking at the cloth in order to get it finished;
then, tired in body and spirit, she would throw herself down to sleep,
and recruit for the struggles of another day. Whenever the children
had any new clothes, which was too seldom, they were made by her hands.
Necessity had taught that thrifty little woman many a thing, until in
time she learnt not only to earn and make their clothes, but even to
mend their shoes herself. Many a homely patch did she put upon their
clogs, and many a sole, too. She had fingers for anything, and never
stood fast whatever came in her way. While many others in her position
would have sat wondering and despairing, she arose, stuck to her task,
got it done, and if she had any time, she did the wondering afterwards.
Go when you would to Sally Lockwood's house, it was always tidy, and
there was a clean chair for you to sit upon. Although their clothes
were coarse, and patched with more pieces, if not more colours than
Joseph's coat, the children were always clean, though many a time they
hadn't a change of garment to put on. What that means in a large
family, the thrifty wives of hard-working men will understand. The
frequent late washings on Saturday nights, when the little ones were
gone to bed, were something wonderful, and what was even more
remarkable still was, that Sunday morning found their things all clean
and dried, ready for them to go to school like other children.
Ah, Sunday morning, beginning of the day of rest,--how welcome to poor
Sally after her hard week's toils and anxieties! When the family were
gone to school, and her honest man was somewhere at work in the
Master's vineyard, she could slip on her bonnet and shawl and just run
into the preaching service close by, and gather strength and
encouragement from the earnest prayers and humble exhortations of those
men whom God had found in the quarry, at the loom, in the mine, or at
the lapstone, and sent forth Sunday by Sunday into the villages to
preach a homely gospel to the poor, and comfort to His flock.
And thus she struggled on from week to week and year to year, bearing
with uncomplaining fortitude her own burdens, and lightening, when she
could, those of her husband; setting an example of patience, industry,
and piety before her family, thus by example, as well as precept,
training them up in the fear of the Lord.
No wonder that one of Abe's greatest boasts was his wife. Next to his
Lord and Master, whose praise was ever on his lips, Sally came in for
honours. "Aar Sally," which was the usual homely and affectionate way
in which he spoke of her, was, humanly speaking, his sheet anchor; her
word was more to him than counsel's opinion, and considerably cheaper;
what "aar Sally" said was Act of Parliament in that little house. She
had gained a power there which was due to her, and which she exercised
for the benefit of the whole.
"Aar Sally" often figured in Abe's sermons, and always in a favourable
light, which shows the estimation he cherished for the worthy partner
of his joys and sorrows. Although, as years went on, time, labour, and
anxiety made their unmistakable impressions upon her, she was always
bonny to Abe; and up to the last, when he was a feeble old man, and she
was stricken in years, he used to say, "Aar Sally is th' handsomest
woman i' th' world." It is possible that this assertion may have been
the occasion of some tender disputes in some quarters, but nothing was
ever heard to that effect, and no one ever openly ventured to enter
into competition with Sally for the honour which was ascribed to her,
so that she was, _without dispute_, the handsomest woman in the world.
"Handsome is he, that handsome doth,
And handsome, indeed, that's handsome enough."
Beauty is only skin deep, but goodness goes right through. Sally was a
good wife, a good mother, a good Christian, and now her soul rests in
the presence of Him "who is fairest among ten thousand, and altogether
lovely."