THE NATURE OF SIN; OR, THE CONVICT.
QUESTION XIV. _What is sin?_
ANSWER. Sin is any want of conformity unto, or transgression of, the
law of God.
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THE account of Edward made a deep impression upon the minds of the
children, although well aware it was only an imaginary sketch. They
prayed more earnestly to be assisted to do what was right, and were
more conscientious in the performance of their duties.
Mr. Dermott one day overheard Walter and Anna talking about Edward.
Walter said, "I bet I wouldn't have opened that box; and I think he was
real silly for doing it."
"Don't you ever do wrong?" asked Anna, simply.
"Yes, of course I do," replied the boy, in an embarrassed tone; "but if
I was tried in that way, I wouldn't."
"I'm afraid I should," replied Anna, humbly. "I did want to know so
much what was in the box."
"What is conformity to any thing, Helen?" asked her father, after the
answer had been correctly repeated.
"I don't know, sir."
"Walter, do you remember, when I took you to the academy, I requested
the teacher to give you a list of the rules or laws of the school? And
when he did so, I told him that I hoped you would always conform to
them. What did I mean by that?"
"I suppose you meant that you hoped I should comply with the rules, or
do every thing the laws required."
"Just so. Well, whose laws must we conform to?"
"The laws of God."
"In what book are these laws written?"
"In the Bible," replied Helen.
"What is breaking God's law called?"
"Transgression of it," said Walter.
"And what other word denotes nearly the same idea as transgression of
God's holy law?"
"Sin."
"Yes, and it is equally sin if we do not conform to the law. Suppose
God had commanded Adam and Eve to eat of the fruit of a particular
tree, and they had not done it, would they not have sinned just as much
as by eating the forbidden fruit?"
"Yes, sir."
"But for a long time after the creation of the world, God's law was
not written down in the Bible; your mother will tell you where it was
written."
"Paul says it was written in the hearts of men,—
"'their conscience also bearing witness.'"
"Before the Bible was completed, God wrote his commands upon two tables
of stone. Do you know what became of them?"
"Moses broke them in pieces, because he was so angry that the
Israelites worshipped the golden calf; but God wrote them again, and
afterward they were put into the ark."
"In what part of the Bible do we find them?"
"In the twentieth chapter of Exodus, and also in Deuteronomy."
"Has any one ever lived in perfect conformity to the law of God?"
"Jesus Christ did."
"Now for a story, father," said Helen.
Mr. Dermott smiled, and commenced.
"Very late one evening, a good clergyman was called upon to go to a
house in the outskirts of his parish to visit a poor woman, who, the
messenger said, was nigh unto death. The night was extremely cold, and
the minister was by no means young; but he hesitated not one minute in
the performance of this duty. He set out, in company with his guide,
who was a lad apparently just entering his teens; and, by walking at a
rapid pace, reached the spot in about twenty minutes. The boy seemed
averse to conversation, and only said he was the son of a neighbor of
the poor woman who was sick.
"The house, or rather hovel, seemed to be filled with people, as they
approached. But the clergyman made his way inside the door, where
his footsteps were arrested by the most distressing sounds he had
ever heard. They seemed to be the wailings of a broken heart; and so,
indeed, they were. Lying on a cot bed, in the centre of the apartment,
was a poor woman, her hair pushed back from her head, and lying loosely
upon the pillow. Her face was thin, while a paleness, like that of
death, was spread over it. Her eyes were closed; but the rigid features
and the pinched nostrils disclosed the fact that she was conscious of
her sufferings. Close by her, and grasping her tightly by the hand, sat
a young girl, with her face buried in the pillow; but her convulsed
form and long-drawn sighs showed that she was in the deepest affliction.
"It was a long time before the minister could ascertain the
circumstances connected with these poor suffering persons. The woman
lying before him was a widow. Her only son had that day been convicted
of forgery, and condemned to the state prison for a long course of
years. He had transgressed the laws of his country, and now he must pay
the penalty. The young woman, clinging so tightly to the pale sufferer,
was betrothed to the son. But now her light was turned into darkness,
her joy into the deepest sorrow. One of the neighbors, returning from
the city, had brought the fatal news; and, ever since she heard it, the
poor broken-hearted mother had seemed more dead than alive.
"'If she would only cry, now, as Malissy does,' said one of the women,
'I should have more hopes of her; but she does nothing but moan, moan,
as if her heart was breaking.'
"Mr. Lawson, having requested the women to retire to the farther part
of the room, drew near the couch, and placed his hand on the cold, damp
forehead. There was no answering sign. He then kneeled by the side of
the bed, and, in words the most compassionate and tender, he besought
the mercy of God for the poor guilty son. He was a father; and he well
knew how a parent's heart was wounded by the ill-doing of a child.
"The moanings ceased, and presently the features relaxed. The mother
whispered a feeble response. The young girl raised her head to listen.
But her grief was net wholly unselfish. The guilty man was lost to her
forever. The clergyman increased in fervor. He besieged the mercy-seat,
and would not be denied a blessing. A bright, red spot, on either cheek
of the mother, proved that hope for her son was once more springing up
in her breast.
"'O my God, be merciful to my sinful boy!' burst from her lips, as the
prayer ceased. 'Let me die, if, by that means, his soul may be saved.'
"'God in heaven grant him forgiveness,' said Mr. Lawson, his voice
trembling with emotion.
"But I must cut short my story. The good clergyman became so much
interested in these poor afflicted ones, that he visited the prison,
and, through the kindness of the chaplain, was allowed free access to
the culprit. At first the young man was stubborn, and declined talking
with a stranger. But at length, moved by the account of his mother's
heart-rending grief, his proud heart was softened, and he wept like a
grieved child. When Mr. Lawson gave him Malissy's last farewell, he
said, 'I supposed it would come to that,' but presently added, 'Tell me
more about my mother.'
"From time to time, Mr. Lawson visited the youth; and at length, he
had the happiness to soothe the dying moments of the mother with the
tidings that her poor, guilty boy had cast himself at the feet of the
Saviour, with the prayer of the publican upon his lips,—
"'God be merciful to me a sinner.'
"But what a dreadful thing that for his transgression he must remain
shut up from the light of day, or from any intercourse with his race,
until his heart was chilled, and his hair white with premature old age!
"Dear children, though I hope you have never been guilty of any
outward transgression, such as this poor youth committed, yet have
you not often, yea, every hour of your lives, been guilty of sins of
omission, such as the neglect of prayer, and of choosing Christ to be
your Saviour; cherishing a carnal mind, which is enmity against God,
not subject to his law, neither indeed can be; and, also, want of
conformity to his laws, such as a disinclination to obey him and all
his requirements?"