crying aloud for help; so I turned me round to see where he was that
uttered it, and by the side of the King's path I could see one striving
to mount the bank, and slipping back again as often as he tried. He was
trying in right earnest: his cries were piteous to hear, and he laboured
as if he would carry his point by storm. But it was all in vain; the
more he struggled, the worse his case grew; for the bank, and all the
path up to it, got so quagged and miry with his eager striving, that he
seemed farther and farther from getting safely up. At last, as he was
once more struggling violently up, his feet quite slipped from under him,
and he fell upon his side: and so he lay sobbing and struggling for
breath, but still crying out to the King, who had helped him before, and
delivered him from the flames of the pit, to help him once more, and lift
him again into the right way. My heart pitied the poor boy, and I looked
more closely into his face, and saw that it was Irrgeist--not Irrgeist as
he had been when he had walked at first with Gottlieb along the road, or
as he had been when he had first followed the deceitful phantom
"Pleasure" out of it,--but Irrgeist still, though brought by his
wanderings and his trouble to paleness, and weariness, and sorrow. Now,
whilst I was looking at him, as he lay in this misery, and longing for
some helper to come to him, lo, his cries stopped for a moment, and I saw
that it was because One stood by him and spoke to him. Then I could see
under the mantle, which almost hid Him, that it was the same form which
had visited Furchtsam, and delivered him when he had cried. Now, too, I
saw the hand held out, and I saw Irrgeist seize it; and it raised him up,
and he stood upon his feet: and the staff was given to him,--exceeding
rough, but needful and trusty; and his lamp shone out, and the book of
light was his; and his feet were again in the road.
But I marked well that Irrgeist trod it not as the others had done. Truly
did he go along it weeping. Whether it was that the thought of what he
had gone through amongst the pitfalls dwelt ever on his mind; or whether
it were shame of having wandered, I know not,--but his road seemed
evermore one of toil and sorrow. Still, in the midst of tears, a song
was often put into his mouth, and his tongue was ever speaking of the
great kindness of Him who had restored the wanderer: his head, too, was
so bowed down, that he marked every stone upon the road, and therefore
never stumbled; but still his speed was little, and his troubles were
many. When he got to the dark part, he had a sore trial: his feet seemed
too weak and trembling to bear him; and more than once I heard him cry
out, as if he thought that he were again between the pitfalls, and the
fire were ready to break out upon him. But then did it seem as if there
were some sweet hopes given him, and his face brightened up; and in a
faint, feeble voice, he would break out again into his song and
thanksgiving. As he drew towards the end, things somewhat mended with
him; and when he was just upon the sunlight, and began to see its
brightness through the haze, and to hear the voices of the heavenly ones,
methought his heart would have burst, so did it beat with joy: and withal
he smote upon his breast, and said,--"And this for me! And this for the
wanderer! O mercy, choicest mercy! Who is a God like unto Thee, that
pardonest iniquity?" And so saying, he entered on the heavenly light,
and left for ever behind him the darkness and the danger of the pitfalls,
and the face of shame, and the besetting weakness; for he too was clothed
in raiment of light, and borne with joy before the Lord the King.
* * * * *
_Father_. Who were those who were walking in the beautiful garden as its
lords?
_Child_. Man in Paradise before the fall.
F. What was the dreadful change that came upon them?
C. Their fall into sin and misery.
F. What was the second estate seen in the vision?
C. Their fallen children in this sinful world, without the knowledge of
God; wandering in the darkness of heathenism amongst the pitfalls of
error.
F. What was the porch which let them into a better way?
C. The entrance into the Church of the redeemed by baptism.
F. What does our Catechism say about this?
C. That it is our being "called to a state of salvation."
F. What are the gifts bestowed upon them?
C. God's word is the book of light; conscience enlightened by God is the
little lamp of each; the oil in the golden vial is the help and teaching
of God's grace; and the staff is the help and assistance of the Church.
F. Why was it so easy to get out of the path, and so hard to get back?
C. Because it is easy to go wrong, and very hard to return into the way
of righteousness.
F. What were the baits which the phantom offered to the youths?
C. The pleasures of sin, which are but for a season.
F. Why was the staff rough to those that were coming back from
wandering?
C. Because the discipline of the Church, which is easy to the obedient,
is often galling to those who offend.
F. Why was Irrgeist, after he was brought back, still so sad a pilgrim?
C. Because, though he was accepted and forgiven, the effects of his
former sins still weakened and grieved him: as says the Lord, by the
mouth of the Prophet Ezekiel (chap. xvi. ver. 63), "That thou mayest
remember, and be confounded, and never open thy mouth any more because of
thy shame, when I am pacified toward thee for all that thou hast done,
saith the Lord God."
The Little Wanderers.
In a miserable little hovel, built on the edge of a wide and desolate
common, lived a poor widow woman, who had two sons. The eldest of them
was quite young, and the least was scarcely more than an infant. They
were dressed in torn and dirty rags, for the widow had no better clothes
to put upon them; and often they were very hungry and very cold, for she
had not food or fire with which to feed and warm them. No one taught the
biggest boy any thing; and as for the poor mother, she did not know a
letter. She had no friends; and the only playfellows the little ones
ever knew were other children as poor, and as dirty, and as untaught as
they were themselves, from whom they learnt nothing but to say bad words
and do naughty tricks. Poor children! it was a sad life, you would say,
which lay before them.
Just at this time the widow was taken very ill with a fever. Long she
lay in that desolate hut, groaning and suffering, and no one knew how ill
she was but the little children. They would sit and cry by her miserable
bed all day, for they were very hungry and very sad. When she had lain
in this state for more than a week, she grew light-headed, and after a
while died. The youngest child thought she was asleep, and that he could
not waken her; but the elder boy rushed weeping out of the house, knowing
that she was really dead, and that they were left alone in the wide
world.
Just at that very moment a man passed by, who looked into the pale, thin,
hungry face of the sobbing child, with a kind, gentle look, and let
himself be led into the wretched hut, where the poor dead mother lay. His
heart bled for the poor orphans, for he was one who was full of
tenderness: so he spake kind words to them; and when his servants came up
after a while, he gave orders that their dead mother should be buried,
and that the children should be taken from the miserable hut, to dwell in
his own beautiful castle.
To it the children were removed. The servants of the Lord of the castle
put on them clean fresh clothes--washed their old dirt from them; and as
no one knew what were their names, they gave them two new names, which
shewed they belonged to this family; and they were cared for, and given
all they wanted.
Happy was now their lot. They had all they wanted: good food in plenty,
instead of hunger and thirst; clean raiment, instead of rags and
nakedness; and kind teachers, who instructed them day by day as they were
able to bear it. There were a multitude of other happy children too in
the castle, with whom they lived, and learned, and spent their glad days.
Sometimes they played in the castle, and sometimes they ran about in the
grounds that were round it, where were all sorts of flowers, and
beautiful trees full of singing birds, and green grass, and painted
butterflies; and they were as happy as children could be.
All over these grounds they might play about as they would: only on one
side of them they were forbidden to go. There the garden ended in a wide
waste plain, and there seemed to be nothing to tempt children to leave
the happy garden to walk in it, especially as the kind Lord of the castle
bid them never set foot on it: and yet it was said that some children had
wandered into it, and that of these, many had never come back again. For
in that desert dwelt the enemies of the Lord of the castle; and there was
nothing they loved better than to pounce down upon any children whom he
had taken as his own, and carry them off, to be their slaves in the midst
of the waste and dreary sands.
Many ways too had these enemies by which they enticed children to come on
the plain; for as long as they stayed within the boundary, and played
only in the happy garden, the evil one could not touch them. Sometimes
they would drop gay and shining flowers all about the beginning of the
waste, hoping that the children would come across the border to pick them
up: and so it was, that if once a child went over, as soon as he had got
into his hands the flower for which he had gone, it seemed to fade and
wither away; but just beyond him he thought he saw another, brighter and
more beautiful; and so, too, often it happened that, throwing down the
first, he went on to take the second; and then throwing down the second,
he went on to reach a third; until, suddenly, the enemy dashed upon him,
and whirled him away with them in a moment.
Often and often had little Kuhn {95a}--for so the eldest boy had been
named--looked out over this desert, and longed, as he saw the gay flowers
dropped here and there, to run over the border and pick them up. His
little brother, who was now old enough to run about with him, would stand
and tremble by him as he got close to the desert; but little Zart {95b}
would never leave him: and sometimes, I am afraid, they would have both
been lost, if it had not been for a dear little girl, who was almost
always with them, and who never would go even near to the line. When
Kuhn was looking into it, as if he longed for the painted flowers, the
gentle Glaube {96} would grow quite sad, and bending her dark sorrowful
eyes upon him, their long lashes would become wet with tears, and she
would whisper in a voice almost too solemn for a child, "O Kuhn,
remember." Then Kuhn, who could not bear to see her sad, would tear
himself away; and the flowers seemed directly to lose their brightness,
and the desert looked dry and hot, and the garden cool and delicious, and
they played happily together, and forgot their sorrow.
But it was very dangerous for Kuhn to go so near. The servants of the
Lord of the castle often told the children this; and seeing a bold and
daring spirit in Kuhn, they had spoken to him over and over again. What
made it so dangerous was this,--that the flowers of the wilderness never
looked gay until you got near to its border; afar off it seemed dusty,
dry, and hot; but the nearer you got to it, the brighter shone the
flowers; they seemed also to grow in number, until you could hardly see
its dry hot sands, for the flowery carpet that was drawn over them.
Poor Kuhn! he was often in danger. Never yet had he crossed the border;
but it is a sad thing to go near temptation; and so this unhappy child
found to his cost.
One day he was sauntering close to the forbidden border, when the hoop
which he was trundling slipped from him and ran into the desert. In a
moment he was over after it; and just as he stooped to pick it up, he
saw, right before him, a beautiful and sparkling flower. He would
certainly have gone after it, but that at the instant he caught the eye
of Glaube looking sadly after him, and it struck upon his heart, and he
hastened back, and was safe. For a while his legs trembled under him,
and Zart looked up quite frightened into his pale face; Glaube too could
scarcely speak to him; and it was long before they were laughing merrily
again under the tall palm-trees of the garden. But by the next day all
Kuhn's fears had flown away, and he went with a bolder foot than ever to
the very edge of the desert.
{The Little Wanderers: p98.jpg}
Glaube was further off than usual; and just as Kuhn and Zart were in this
great danger, a beautiful bird started up under their feet. The boys had
never seen such a bird. All the colours of the rainbow shone upon his
feathers, and his black and scarlet head seemed quite to sparkle in the
sunshine. It tried to fly; but whether its wing was hurt, or what, I
know not, but it could not rise, and ran before them flapping its painted
wings, screaming with a harsh voice, and keeping only just before them.
The boys were soon in full chase, and every thing else was forgotten;
when, just as they thought the bird was their own, he fluttered across
the border, and both the boys followed him,--Kuhn boldly and without
thought, for he had been across it before; but poor little Zart trembled
and turned pale, and clung to his bolder brother, as if he never would
have crossed it alone.
Once over, however, on they went, and the bird still seemed to keep close
before them; and they never noticed how far they were getting from the
garden, until suddenly they heard a dreadful noise; the air looked thick
before them, as if whole clouds of dust were sweeping on; shining spear-
heads were all they could see in the midst of the dust; and they heard
the trampling of a multitude of horses. The boys were too much
frightened to shriek, but they clung to one another, pale and trembling,
and ready to sink into the earth. In a minute rude hands seized them;
they heard rough voices round them; and they could see that they were in
the midst of the enemies of the Lord of the castle. In another minute
they were torn asunder, they were snatched up on horseback, and were
galloping off towards the sad abode in which the evil men of the desert
dwelt. In vain the boys cried, and begged to be taken home; away
galloped the horses; whilst no one thought of heeding their cries and
prayers. They had gone on long in this way, and the dark-frowning towers
of the desert castle were in sight. The little boys looked sadly at one
another; for here there was no flowering garden, there were no sheltering
trees, but all looked bare, and dry, and wretched; and they could see
little narrow windows covered with iron bars, which seemed to be dungeon-
rooms, where they thought they should be barred in, and never more play
together amongst the flowers and in the sunlight.
Just at this moment the little Zart felt that, by some means or other,
the strap which bound him to the horse had grown loose, and in another
moment he had slipped down its side, and fallen upon his head on the
ground. No one noticed his fall; and there he lay upon the sand for a
while stunned and insensible. When he woke up, the trampling of horses
had died away in the distance; the light sand of the desert, which their
feet had stirred, had settled down again like the heavy night-dew, so
that he could see no trace of their footmarks. The frowning castle-walls
were out of sight; look which way he would, he could see nothing but the
hot flat sand below, and the hot bright sun in the clear sky above him.
He called for his brother, but no voice answered him; he started up, and
began to run he knew not where: but the sun beat on his head, the hot
sand scorched his weary feet; his parched tongue began to cleave to his
mouth; and he sunk down upon the desert again to die.
As he lay there he thought upon the castle-garden and its kind Lord; upon
the sorrowful face with which Glaube was used to look on them, when he
and Kuhn drew near to the forbidden border; and his tears broke out
afresh when he thought of his brother in the enemies' dungeon, and
himself dying in the desolate wilderness. Then he called upon the Lord
of the castle, for he remembered to have heard how He had pitied
wandering children, and heard their cry from afar, and had brought them
back again to His own happy castle. And as he lay upon the sand, crying
out to the Lord of the castle, he thought that he heard a footstep, as of
one walking towards him. Then there came a shade between the sun and his
burning head, and looking languidly up he saw the kind face of the Lord
of the castle turned towards him. He was looking on the poor child as He
had looked on him when He had pitied him by the side of the hut; and that
kind face seemed to speak comfort. Then He stretched out to him His
hand, and He bade him rise; and He lifted up the child, and bore him in
His bosom over that waste and scorching wilderness, nor ever set him down
until He had brought him again into the pleasant garden. Once as he lay
in that bosom, Zart thought that he heard in the distance the tramping of
horse-hoofs; and he saw the dusty cloud lifting itself up: but he felt
that he was safe; and so he was, for the enemy did not dare to approach
that Mighty One who was bearing him.
When he reached the garden again, the gentle Glaube met him, and welcomed
him back again to their peaceful home. But he hung down his head with
shame and with sorrow; and as he looked up into the face of the Lord of
the garden, he saw in it such kindness and love, that his tears rolled
down his cheeks to think how he had broken His command, and wandered into
the wilderness of His enemies. Then he tried to speak for his brother,
for his heart was sore and heavy with thinking of him; but the Lord of
the castle answered not. Many, many days did Glaube and Zart pray for
him; but they heard nothing of him: whether he died in the enemies'
dungeon; or whether, as they still dared to hope, he might even yet one
day find his way back to the garden of peace; or whether, as they
sometimes trembled to think, he had grown up amongst the enemies of their
Lord, and become one of them,--they knew not, and they dared not to ask.
But they never thought of him without trembling and tears, and Zart more
even than Glaube: for he had crossed that terrible border; he had been
seized by the fierce enemy; he had lain alone in the wide scorching
desert; and had only been brought back again from death by the great love
of the mighty and merciful Lord of that most happy garden.
* * * * *
_Father_. Who are meant by these children born in the wretched hovel?
_Child_. All the children of fallen parents.
F. Who are such?
C. All who are born. For we were "by nature born in sin, and the
children of wrath."
F. Who is the kind Lord of the castle who takes pity on them?
C. Jesus Christ our Lord.
F. What is meant by His taking them to His castle?
C. His receiving us when children into His Church.
F. When was this done?
C. At our baptism. For "being by nature children of wrath, we were
hereby made the children of grace."
F. What is meant by the clean raiment and the new name He gave them?
C. The "forgiveness of all our sins" (see Collect in
Confirmation-Service), and the giving us our Christian name.
F. Why is it called your Christian name?
C. To mark its difference from our natural, or parents' name.
F. Why was it given you at that time?
C. Because then I was taken into God's family, and "made a member of
Christ, child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven."
F. What was the food with which they were fed?
C. All the means of grace of the Church of Christ.
F. What was the desert, and who those who dwelt in it who were enemies
to the Lord?
C. The ways of sin, and the devil and his angels.
F. What were the bright flowers and the bird?
C. The baits and temptations of sin.
F. Why did Kuhn, or "bold," cross the border more easily the second
time?
C. Because one sin makes another easier.
F. Why did Zart, or "tender," follow him?
C. Because bold sinners lead weaker sinners after them.
F. What were the dry sands into which Kuhn and Zart were carried?
C. The evil ways of sin.
F. Who came to Zart's rescue when he prayed?
C. The gracious Lord who had at first received him into His Church by
baptism.
F. Why was he still sad and ashamed after he was brought back?
C. Because he had wandered.
F. Did he then doubt whether he was forgiven?
C. No: but he "remembered and was confounded, and never opened his mouth
any more, when the Lord was pacified toward him for all his iniquity."
F. What was the end of Kuhn, or the "bold?"
C. We know not; but they who "draw back unto perdition" are punished
above all others.
F. What are we to learn from the whole?
C. The blessedness of being taken into the Church in our infancy; and
our need of prayer and watching, lest we turn it into a curse.
The King and his Servants.
A great king once called his servants to him, and said to them,--"You
have all often professed to love me, and to wish to serve me; and I have
never yet made trial of you. But now I am about to try you all, that it
may be known who does in truth desire to serve me, and who is a servant
only in name. To morrow your trial will begin; so meet me here in the
morning, and be ready to set out upon a journey on which I shall send
you."
When the king had so spoken, he left them; and there was a great deal of
bustle and talking amongst these servants. Not that they were all alike.
Some were very busy, and said a great deal of the services they should
render; and that they hoped it would be some really hard trial on which
the king would set them. Others were quiet and thoughtful, saying little
or nothing, but, as it seemed, thinking silently of the words the king
had spoken, as if they feared lest they should fail in their trial. For
they loved that king greatly; he had been as a father to them all. Once
they had been slaves, and cruelly treated by a wicked tyrant who had
taken them prisoners, and cast some of them into dungeons, and made
others work in dark mines, and dealt evil with them all. But the king
had triumphed over this their enemy, and rescued them from his hands. His
own son had sought them in the dungeons and dark pits into which they had
been cast, and had brought them out; and now he had given them places in
his service, and fed them from his own kingly table; and he promised to
such as were faithful, that he would raise them yet higher; that he would
even set them upon thrones, and put crowns upon their heads; and that
they should remain always in his presence, and rule and dwell with him.
Now, when the time of their trial was come, these faithful servants were
grave and thoughtful, fearing lest they should fail, and be led to forget
him their kind and gracious king. But one thought held them up. He had
said unto them all, "As your day, so shall your strength be." They knew,
therefore, that he would put on them no task beyond their strength. They
remembered his kindness and his love in taking them out of the dungeons
of the enemy. They desired greatly to serve him; and so they rejoiced
that their trial was come, even while they feared it; and they trusted in
him to help them, even whilst they trembled for themselves.
These servants spent much of the night in preparing for their journey; in
thinking over all the directions the king had ever given them; for many
times had he spoken to them of this coming trial; and even written down
plain rules for them, which should teach them always how he would have
them act. All these they gathered together, lest in the hurry of setting
out, they should forget any one of them; and so they went into the court
of the palace to meet the king.
Then he came forth from his palace-door, and gave them all their charge.
From the great treasure-chambers of that palace he brought out many
different gifts, and laid them before these his servants. One had gold
and silver, and another had precious stuffs; but all had something good
and costly: and as he gave them these gifts, he told them that this was
to be their trial. He was about to send them with these gifts into an
exceeding great and rich city, which lay afar off from his palace; and in
that city they were all to trade for him. They were to take his gifts
and use them wisely, so that each one of them might bring something back
to him. He gave them also very close and particular instructions. He
told them that there were many in that city who would try to rob them of
these his gifts; and he told them how to keep them safely. He told them
that many would seek to make them waste what he had given to them on
pleasing themselves. But that they must remember always, that what they
had belonged to him; that they would have to give him an account of their
way of using all his gifts; and that of his mere mercy he, who had
redeemed them from the dungeon and made them able to serve him, would
graciously reward hereafter all their efforts to use his gifts for him.
He told them also to set about trading for him as early as they could;
for that all the merchants' goods were freshest in the morning; that then
the precious stones were the finest and the truest; but that those who
waited till the evening would find all the best goods sold; and that,
perhaps, before they had any thing ready, the trumpet would sound which
was to call them all out of the city, and then they would have to come
back to him empty-handed and disgraced.