I doubted myself. Understand, I had no fear of making any new false
step in the eyes of the world; or of plunging anew into the dissipations
and riotous living of so-called "life," in return for which I was now
eating the husks of voluntary exile: young as I was, I had already
learnt a bitter lesson of the hollowness and deception of all this!
It was another dread which haunted me.
The vicar had, without in any way making light of them, condoned my
misdeeds, telling me that there was more joy in heaven over one
repentant sinner, than for ninety-and-nine just persons that had never
offended: while, my darling--she who had the most cause to turn from me,
the greatest right to condemn--had forgiven me; and bidden me to look
forward to the future, with the hopeful assurance that she was certain
that I would never give her reason again to doubt her faith in me.
But, the fatherly affection of the one, the devoted confidence of the
other, merited some greater return on my part than mere "uprightness of
life,"--in the worldly sense of the expression! Surely, they did?
A man's words and actions may be above reproach, as far as society is
concerned; and yet, he may not have a particle of true religion about
him. Both the vicar and Min, however, were earnest Christians. They
were deeply religious, without a suspicion of cant or affectation; and
they wished me to be so, too. I had promised to pray to please them;
but, had I kept my promise? No, I had failed:--my conscience told me
so!
As long as things had gone smoothly with me, I believe I _did_ pray--
with the faith that my petitions were heard above; but, when dark days
came, God seemed to forsake me, and my prayers were cast back into my
own bosom. I might repeat a form of words a thousand times over; still,
how could I be said to pray when the spirit was wanting?--It was only a
jugglery, like the repeating machine in which the Burmese believe, or
the beads of irreligious Catholics.
Min had specially pointed out a text of promise to me in the _Psalms_,
where it is said, "No good thing shall He withhold from them who lead a
godly life;" and, I had hoped in it; yet now, when I saw all my plans
fail, this text took away my faith. Everything was withheld from me, I
thought; therefore I could not lead a godly life, no matter how
strenuously I strove to do so. I was outcast and forgotten! I had gone
through the "vale of misery;" but I could not "use it as a well;" for my
pools were empty! Instead of my Creator directing my "going in the
way," He had left me to stumble forward blindly, until I had fallen into
the Slough of Despond,--the sink of unbelief!
How hard it is to find that faith which enables us to pray in the
confident belief of our supplications being attended to! I remember
once reading a passage in a sermon preached by the Archdeacon of Saint
Albans in Westminster Abbey some thirteen years ago, which was now
brought to my mind. It was one of a series specially designed "for the
working classes," and entitled _The Prayer of Human Kind_. The passage
ran as follows:--
"Why do some penitents--penitents really at heart--still groan, and
try, by self-infliction and by keeping open their wounds, to appease
God, and find no comfort to their souls? Is it not that they have not
really taken to their hearts that God _is_ their Father in Christ; and
that, `even as a father pitieth his own children, so is the Lord
merciful to them that fear him?' Had they, by faith, taken this
blessed truth to their souls, they might and would, not in
hopelessness and dread, but in trust and penitential love, make their
wants known as a child to its parent; they would arise, and in humble
compunctions, and not desponding trust, say, `Father, I have sinned.'
They would carry each trouble to him, and say, `Lord, thou knowest me
to be set in this strait, or under that temptation; Lord, deliver me.'
`Thou seest the longing desire of my heart; Lord, grant it.' `Thou
knowest my weakness; Lord, strengthen me.' They would carry and lay
their separate cares before Him, and cast them on Him, knowing that He
careth for them. They would ask, knowing that they will receive;
knowing that an answer that withholds what is asked for is as real,
and frequently a more merciful answer, than one that grants it."
Ah! That was the faith I could not fathom:--that was why my prayers
gave me no comfort, I suppose. And yet, it is said that God, whom rich
men find so difficult of approach, manifests Himself to us more in
adversity than in prosperity. I could not believe in this myself; for,
when I was successful, I really seemed to have faith, and could pray
from my heart; while, now, despondent, it appeared hypocrisy on my part
to pretend to bend my knees to the Almighty; I felt so despairingly
faithless!