AT SCHOOL.
At length the children reached the school before the hymn was learned,
and Kitty felt very much ashamed when, after stammering through three
verses, Mrs. Mordaunt gave her back the book, saying, "I would rather
have no lesson from you, Kitty, than one learned so carelessly as
this." However, it was too late to repair the fault, so Kitty resolved
to give her very best attention to the chapter they were going to
read. It was the parable of the sower and the seed, in the thirteenth
of St. Matthew. I cannot tell you all that Mrs. Mordaunt said about
it, but it was something of this kind:--
"The Saviour was sitting on a little strip of level land by the side
of the Sea of Galilee. Behind him were high mountains, towering one
above another to the clouds; before him, the waves came rippling
quietly against the low shore. Around him were crowds of people
gathered together from the villages and towns many miles around to
listen unto him. Had all these people come to Jesus for the same
thing, do you think, Jane Hutton?"
Jane Hutton started at the question. She had been playing with her new
parasol, and her thoughts were very far from the Sea of Galilee. Mrs.
Mordaunt repeated the question in another way. "Do you think all the
people who came to Jesus came because they loved him, and wanted to be
his disciples?"
"No; there were the Pharisees," said Kitty.
"Yes; they came to try to find fault with him."
"And the sick," said Amy timidly, "who came to be healed."
"True," said Mrs. Mordaunt. "And then there were very many, doubtless,
who came from mere curiosity, because they had heard their friends
talk of his wonderful power of healing, or the new, wise, and strange
words of him who seemed to them only the son of a poor carpenter of
Nazareth. But were there any who gathered close around him, and loved
his words for their own sake, not because they were new or
interesting, but because they were _true_ and _God's words_, because
they had sins to be forgiven and Jesus could forgive, and sick souls
which only Jesus could heal?"
"Yes; there were the disciples."
"What do you mean by disciples?"
"Does it not mean those who love Jesus?" asked Amy.
"No; don't you remember it means scholars?" said Kitty, who was
quicker than her sister, and rather proud of her better memory.
"You are both right," said Mrs. Mordaunt. "The disciples of Jesus are
those who come to learn of him; and the first lesson every one who
comes to Jesus learns is to love him. Nothing can be learned of Christ
without loving him.
"Well," she continued, "our Lord looked round on the crowd: the proud
and clever men who stood knitting their brows, and eagerly watching
his words, and from time to time whispering to one another; the eager
multitude, who listened in mute wonder to his wonderful lessons; the
little group of disciples who gathered affectionately about him; the
sick whom he had healed; the possessed and mad whom he had restored to
reason; the despised sinners whom he had received and forgiven; and
perhaps there were some pious mothers there with little children who
were not afraid to come close to him, for he loved little children.
But he saw more of that crowd than we should have seen if we had been
there. What was it that he saw which we cannot see?"
The children were silent a minute, and then Amy murmured, "Was it
their hearts, ma'am?"
Mrs. Mordaunt replied kindly, "Yes; and he saw how differently his
words would tell on the hearts of the crowd around. And so he taught
them a lesson in this story which we call--"
"The parable of the sower," said Kitty quickly.
Then Mrs. Mordaunt examined the children about the parable, and
finding they had attended to it and understood it, she talked to them
about it.
"Now, dear children," she said, "this school-room, with its
whitewashed walls, is a very different place from the shores of the
Sea of Galilee; and you, little children, with your pleasant English
homes, and your Bibles, and your Sunday schools, I daresay think
yourselves very different from the grave priests, and clever lawyers,
and rough Hebrew labourers and farmers, and Roman soldiers, who
gathered around the Saviour then. But among you, as among that
multitude, who have so long since gone the way of all the earth, the
eye of Jesus Christ (for he sees here as well as there) sees two great
divisions, not of rich and poor, or clever and stupid, but of those
who are his disciples and those who are not. Which class would you
like to belong to?"
Kitty answered eagerly, "His disciples, ma'am."
Some of the children were silent, and some spoke with Kitty; but
little Amy said nothing--the tears filled her eyes and choked her
voice.
"You may all be Christ's little disciples," said Mrs. Mordaunt. "He
calls you to him. You may all come to him _privately_, as the
disciples did; pray to him in secret, and have his words made clear to
you, if you will. You may all bring forth fruit to his glory, thirty,
or sixty, or a hundred fold.
"You see," she continued, "although there are only two great bodies or
parties in the world,--those in whom Christ's words _live_, and those
in whom they _die_,--yet there are many smaller differences among each
of these parties. Some of the seed in the parable fell merely on the
surface, and never was seen any more after it was sown: just as, I am
afraid, some of you have often left all thoughts of God behind when
you left the school or the church, and never thought of him or his
words from one Sunday to another. The fowls of the air--that is, some
light thought or play, or Satan, who goes about to put these in your
heart--come the moment the words die on your ear, and take the good
seed quite away. And then some of you like to hear about Christ, and
his words and works, and are quick, and easily understand and take in
new thoughts, and, perhaps, think you would like to be good children,
and to love Christ, and be his disciples, and go home and go to sleep
full of good intentions and plans of correcting your faults. But the
next morning other lessons have to be learned, and other things to be
thought about, and your faults and bad habits are strong; and so every
day the echo of the Sunday's teaching grows fainter, and at last the
end of the week comes, and finds you no nearer God or the fulfilment
of your good resolutions than the beginning. The thorns have sprung
up--the cares and pleasures of this world--and choked the good seed
that was beginning to grow. And then, again, perhaps, there are some
of you who would like very much to be pious, only you are afraid of
being unlike others, afraid of being teased for being strict, or
laughed at; for persecution does not only consist in burning or
hurting the body,--little annoyances are often harder to bear than
great sorrows. But think how very cowardly this would be, how very
ungrateful and ungenerous to Jesus. He bore the sneers and taunts of
crowds for your sake, and bore them too when he was suffering _great
pain_; and can you not bear a little laugh for his sake? Think how
happy it is to be able to bear a little for him who bore so very much
for us; think what joy to have his eye on us, and to hear his kind
voice saying, 'Blessed are ye, little children, who confess me as your
Master before men; for I will confess you to be my beloved ones before
the angels of God.' And then, dear children," Mrs. Mordaunt added, "I
hope there are some of you who do love your Saviour, and are
treasuring up his words in your hearts; and to you I would say, there
are differences even among Christ's disciples. Some bring forth fruit
thirty, some sixty, and some an hundred fold. Seek, then, not only to
bring forth fruit, but _much_ fruit; to be better and happier every
day. God means you to do this; he will certainly enable you to do it
if you ask.
"And before you leave," she said, "I will first tell you three things
which I particularly wish you to remember: the _place_ where the seed
is to grow; the _enemies_ which try to destroy its life; and _what
makes it grow_. First, where is the seed sown?"
"In the heart," replied all the children.
"Are your spelling lessons, or your lessons on the multiplication
table, sown in your hearts?"
The children smiled, and answered, "No."
"Then you do not expect them to bear fruit in your life. It does not
improve your tempers or your hearts to learn that _h e a r t_ spells
heart, does it? or that 12 times 12 are 144?"
The children thought not.
"Then all you are expected to do with such lessons is to remember
them; is it not?"
"Yes, ma'am," was the reply.
"Now that is precisely the point where your lessons in reading and
spelling differ from your lessons about the Bible. When you sow seed
in your memories, it is like laying up grains in a closed box. We do
not expect them to grow; we are quite content if we find as many as we
leave; we do not expect any fruit or growth. But when I sow seed in
your hearts, it is like putting it into the ground; we want it to
_grow_. It is not enough for it to remain safe and sound; we hope that
it will bear fruit in your lives. I do not care only for finding it
safe in your memories the next Sunday. I long to know that it has been
making you better and wiser children _during the week_, helping you to
fight with faults, teaching you to love God and one another. And
speaking of your faults leads me to think of the enemies the little
seed has to encounter. Can you think of some of the things which try
to hinder its growth?"
"There were the fowls," answered Kitty.
"And the thorns," said some of the other children.
"And the sun," said Amy.
"You know what the thorns and the scorching heat are?"
"Our faults and troubles?" asked Kitty.
"Yes. Side by side with the seed, and from the same soil, the heart,
spring up thorns and weeds, which try to choke the seed. And the
little seed has to struggle hard for its life; if it does not choke
the weeds, the weeds will choke it. What must we do with the weeds?"
"Cut them down," said the children.
"Yes. We must fight with our faults, and not let one, however small,
be neglected, or it will soon cover the garden; for all weeds grow
fast. But the other enemies, the heat and the fowls, cannot be
_destroyed_. The scorching sun--trials and mockery--can only injure
those plants which have no root, those hearts which are not trusting
in Jesus, and rooted in him. But the fowls of the air,--those powerful
and wicked spirits who are constantly on the watch to crush all that
is good and encourage all that is evil in our hearts,--what can the
little seed do against such enemies?"
The children gave no answer.
"_It can do nothing_," said Mrs. Mordaunt. "You all see it has no
power whatever; and in this, too, the seed is like us. What then can
save it?"
There was a pause of a minute, and then Amy ventured to ask, "Does
not God watch over it?"
"He does, my child," replied Mrs. Mordaunt. "But do you remember why I
said the plants are cared for without asking?"
"Because they cannot ask."
"But we can ask. What is it called to ask anything of God?"
"To pray," said all the children.
"Yes; that is what you may all do. Our Saviour calls himself the great
husbandman or gardener; and now that he has risen and reigns on high,
if you ask him, he will not disdain to watch over the little seed of
good sown in your hearts. He will send the Holy Spirit, like the rain
to young corn, to strengthen all that is good in you; and he will
enable you, feeble as you are, to keep down all bad feelings, and
tempers, and habits, which would choke the seed.
"So there are three things for you to remember: the seed is sown in
your hearts, and must bring forth fruit in your lives; you have
enemies within and without to fight with far stronger than any of you;
and you have a Friend far stronger than all your enemies, who will
give you the victory if you seek his aid. And shall I give you a
little grain of precious seed to bear home with you?"
The children all wished it.
"Think, then, on these words, '_By love serve one another_.' Try to
_love_ them, and pray to God for his strength to enable you, for the
sake of his Son, our Saviour; for remember, though I cannot go home
with you, _God does_."
The church bells were ringing, the classes broke up to form into
marching order, and the lesson was over.