THE TRUTH SETTING FREE.
The next day she awoke, out of spirits and out of temper. She did not
see why she should always work, while Kitty was enjoying herself in
bed. She forgot the joy of serving others, and thought it very hard
others should not try to serve her. We are apt to be very strict about
other people's duties when we forget our own. So Amy lay in bed until
the last moment, and then hurried on her clothes, and hurried over her
work, and what was worse, hurried over her prayers, and thus went out
to meet the day's temptations unarmed.
It never improves the temper to be hurried; and Amy was still further
tried this morning by her father, who was in haste to be off to his
work, and wondered why she was so slow.
"It's of no use," grumbled Amy to herself, "to try to do right and
please everybody. The more one does, the more people expect. Nobody
thinks of scolding Kitty for being slow."
A day so begun seldom grows bright of itself. There is a sunshine
which can scatter even such clouds, but Amy did not look up to that;
it did not seem to shine for her; it never does, _if you will not look
up_. She felt very discontented and ill-used; it seemed as if no one
cared for her, and everything worked together to torment her; and so
things got darker and darker, and Amy's temper more bitter and her
heart sorer every moment.
At last her mother went out, and Kitty was sent to the bakehouse, and
Amy was left alone to rock the cradle and watch that the kettle did
not boil over.
Amy had much rather not have been left alone just then; her own
thoughts were not at all pleasant; but as she was alone she could not
help thinking. At first she thought how unkind every one was, and of
all the wrongs she had had to bear,--of Kitty's laziness, of her
mother's rebukes, and then of her beautiful rose, and the naughty
baby. "Kitty and the baby might do just what they liked, but if she
did the least thing wrong she was scolded and punished." But this
thought of the rose led her back to Mrs. Mordaunt's lesson on Sunday.
Had the good seed borne good fruit this week,--this week that was to
have been the beginning of a new life? Had it led her to overcome one
fault, to be a step nearer to God and goodness than before? Yet she
had prayed and tried. What was then wanting? She was afraid she never
should be God's happy child, she was so full of faults, and no one
helped her to overcome them; and yet it was wretched to be as she was.
What should she do?
So she sat rocking the cradle, and thinking of her resolutions and her
failures until the tears rolled fast over her cheeks, and all the
proud heart within her was melted into sorrow. As she sat thus, her
elbows on her knees and her hands hiding her face, she heard a gentle
voice at the door. She looked up. It was Mrs. Mordaunt asking for her
mother. Amy was ashamed to be seen crying, and rose quickly, and
answered as briskly as she could. But Mrs. Mordaunt saw she was
unhappy, and she came forward, and laying her hand kindly on her
shoulder she asked what was the matter.
Amy's tears flowed faster than ever now, and as soon as she could
speak she sobbed out in a faint voice, "O ma'am, I cannot do right,--I
cannot be good." Mrs. Mordaunt sat down beside her and said, "Don't
despair, my child; you know the little song you sing in school. Try
again and again until you succeed. Every one succeeds who goes on
trying."
"But I have tried again and again," said poor Amy, "and I only get
worse and worse. In the very moment when I want it, the strength goes
away."
"Our own strength always will," said the lady. "Have you remembered to
ask God for his strength? Do you remember what I told you about the
little seed? its enemies are stronger than itself, but God is stronger
than its enemies."
"I have prayed, ma'am," said Amy mournfully, "but I am ashamed to ask
God any more. I have done what he tells us not so very often, I am
afraid he never can love me;" and Amy cried bitterly.
"My child," said Mrs. Mordaunt, taking her hand, "if you had disobeyed
your mother, and she were angry with you, would you run away from the
house in the night, and choose rather to starve or die of cold than
ask her forgiveness?"
Amy was silent.
"And if your mother could not bear to see you in want, and were to
come out to you in the cold night with food and kind words, would you
turn away from her and say, 'I know she can never love me, I have been
so naughty;' and would you refuse to receive her kindness, and ask her
forgiveness?"
Amy bent down her head.
"Or would you say," continued Mrs. Mordaunt, "as you saw her coming,
'I will not go to meet her now; I will go and try to earn a few pence,
and then I will come back to her and say, "Mother, I am very sorry,
but here are some pence I have earned. Will you take them and forgive
me, and let me be your child again?"' Would that be _humility_ and
_gratitude_, or _pride_ and _ingratitude_, Amy?"
"Pride and ingratitude," said Amy in a low voice.
"And when the Lord Jesus says to you, 'You have sinned against me and
wronged me, and broken my laws; but I have come down from heaven to
earth to seek you; come back to me, and I will receive and forgive
you,' would it be humility or pride to say, 'Thou canst not forgive
me, I am too sinful; but wait a little while, and I will do something
good, and make myself better, and then I will come back to thee'?"
"_Pride_," said Amy. "But I thought God only loved good children,
ma'am; and I am not good."
"God does only love good children, Amy," said Mrs. Mordaunt very
seriously, "and God knows you cannot be good." Amy looked up in
wonder.
"Who was Jesus Christ, Amy?"
"The Son of God," said Amy.
"And what did he become man and come into this world for?"
Amy answered as she had been taught, "Jesus Christ came into the world
to save sinners."
"To save whom?"
"Sinners."
"Not those who _thought themselves good_, but those who _knew_ they
had been _sinful_. What did he save them from?"
"From punishment," said Amy thoughtfully.
"Yes," said Mrs. Mordaunt, "from punishment, and from sin. He came to
suffer, that we might be delivered and freely forgiven, and to make us
holy. Did it cost him nothing to do this, Amy?"
"He died for it on the cross," said Amy softly.
"He did indeed. And did he suffer all that pain and anguish of mind
for nothing?"
Amy did not answer.
"It would have been for nothing," said Mrs. Mordaunt, "if we had still
to earn forgiveness for ourselves. Jesus bore the punishment for us
just because we could not have borne it; and he has borne it so that
we shall never have to bear it now. If, then, you go and _give
yourself up_ to the blessed Saviour as _He calls you to do_, God will
receive you for his sake, as if you had been always a good and
obedient child, and Jesus will give you his Holy Spirit to abide with
you always, and to make you good and obedient and happy."
"I must not wait until I am better for God to love me, then," said Amy
doubtfully.
"Again, do you obey your mother in order to become her child; or do
you obey her because she loves you and is your mother, Amy?"
"Because she is my mother," said Amy.
"And will your obedience make you more her child than you are, Amy?"
"No, ma'am."
"But because you are her child and she loves you, does that make you
careless of obeying her?"
"If I only could be a better child to please her!" said Amy, the tears
gathering in her eyes.
"It is so with God, my child," said Mrs. Mordaunt. "He loves you, not
because you are good, but because he is good--because he is love, and
so loved you that he gave his Son that you might be saved. Before you
can love him, you must believe his word--that he loves you; and
believing he loves you, he will make you good and happy. God has given
the Bible to _tell of his love to you_. Read it, my child; believe
it."
Mrs. Harrison came in just then, and Mrs. Mordaunt, after saying a few
words to her, rose to leave.
That evening Amy took out her Bible with a new interest. "Can it be
possible, indeed," thought she, "that God has written in this book
that he loves me--_me_, a little sinful child! I will look and see."
She read some of the passages she had learned before for Mrs.
Mordaunt: "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he
that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and
milk without money and without price" (Isa. lv. 1). "May I, indeed,
come without anything to offer, and will God give me all I want?"
Then: "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must
the Son of man be lifted up: that _whosoever_ believeth in him should
not perish, but have eternal life" (John iii. 14, 15). "He that
heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting
life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death
unto life" (John v. 24).
"Can I not _now_ hear his words," she thought, "and _do I not_
believe?" She had read the words often before, but now a new light
seemed to stream forth from them. She wanted forgiveness, and here was
forgiveness offered; she wanted God to love her, and here in every
page was some message of love from him. The Spirit of God opened the
little child's heart to the Word of God, and she read on as if she
never could hear enough of this blessed news. "We have known and
believed the love that God hath to us; we love him because he first
loved us."
"I do believe!" she thought; and that evening, as she fell on her
knees, she felt for the first time what it was to call God Our Father.
Her whole heart glowed with gratitude and love to him who had so loved
her. She laid her down to sleep with the eye of her heavenly Father
upon her. She awoke in the morning and felt that he was near.
Everything made her happy, because God sent everything, and God loved
her. The streams, the woods, the flowers--they had never looked half
so bright, for she felt that God had made them, and God had so loved
her. At school, at her tasks,--everywhere she was happy as a bird, for
God was everywhere. She could not feel cross, for God was near, _and
he loved her_. She could fight with her faults now, for the Almighty
was by to help her.
Little children! thousands of little children have had their hearts
changed and made happy, just as Amy's was; and _so may yours_. Only
believe the love that God has to you, and you must love him; and be
his dear and happy child.
Transcriber's Note
Minor punctuation errors have been repaired.
Hyphenation has been made consistent.
The author uses both "a hundred fold" and "an hundred fold". These
instances have been preserved as printed.