GOD’S GIFT OF GRACE.
“Ye cannot be justified by the works of the law; for by
the deeds of the law no man living can be rid of his
burden.”—_Pilgrim’s Progress._
“What ails you my young friend?—has anything painful happened?” said
a kindly voice, and a hand was gently laid upon the shoulder of Mark,
who was lying on the grass amidst the ruins of the old Abbey, his face
leaning on his arms, and turned towards the earth, while short convulsive
sobs shook his frame.
“Oh, sir!” exclaimed Mark, as a momentary glance enabled him to recognize
Mr. Ewart.
“Let me know the cause of your sorrow,” said the clergyman, seating
himself on a large stone beside him. “Rise, and speak to me with freedom.”
Mark rose, but turned his glowing face aside; he was ashamed to look at
his companion.
“Sit down there,” said Mr. Ewart, feeling for the boy’s evident confusion
and distress; “perhaps you are not yet aware that I have endeavoured to
serve you—to procure you a situation with Farmer Joyce?”
“I have had it, and lost it,” replied Mark abruptly.
“Indeed, I am sorry to hear that. I trust that no fault has occasioned
your removal.”
“I stole his fruit,” said Mark, determined at least to hide nothing from
his benefactor; “he turned me off, and he called me a hypocrite. I am bad
enough,” continued the boy, in an agitated tone; “no one but myself knows
how bad; but I am _not_ a hypocrite—I am _not_!”
“God forbid!” said Mr. Ewart; “but how did all this happen?”
“I was thirsty, it tempted me, and I took it. I broke all my resolutions,
and now he cast me off, and you will cast me off, and the pure holy God,
He will cast me off too! I shall never be worthy of heaven!”
“Did you think that you could ever be worthy of heaven?” said the
clergyman, and paused for a reply. Then receiving none from Mark, he
continued—“Not you, nor I, nor the holiest man that ever lived, One
excepted, who was not only man, but God, was ever _worthy_ of the kingdom
of heaven.”
Mark looked at him in silent surprise.
“We are all sinners, Mark; all polluted with guilt. Not one day passes
in which our actions, our words, or our thoughts, would not make us lose
all title to eternal life. The Bible says, ‘_There is not one that doeth
good, no, not one._’ Every living soul is included under sin.”
“How can this be?” said Mark, who had looked upon the speaker as one
above all temptation or stain.
“Since Adam, our first parent, sinned and fell, all his children have
been born into the world with a nature tainted and full of wickedness.
Even as every object lifted up from the earth, if unsupported, will fall
to the ground, so we, without God’s grace, naturally fall into sin.”
“Then can no one go to heaven?” said Mark.
“Blessed be God, mercy has found a means by which even sinners can be
saved! Sin is the burden which weighs us to the dust, which prevents us
from rising to glory. The Lord Jesus came from heaven that He might free
us from sin, take our burden from us, and bear it Himself; and so we have
hope of salvation through Him.”
“I wish that I understood this better,” said Mark.
“I will tell you what happened to a friend of my own, which may help you
to understand our position towards God, and the reason of the hope that
is in us. I went some years ago with a wealthy nobleman to visit a prison
at some distance. Many improvements have been made in prisons since then,
at that time they were indeed most fearful abodes. In one damp dark cell,
small and confined, where light scarcely struggled in through the narrow
grating to show the horrors of the place, where the moisture trickled
down the green stained walls, and the air felt heavy and unwholesome; in
this miserable den we found an unhappy prisoner, who had been confined
there for many weary years. He had been placed there for a debt which he
was unable to pay, and he had no prospect of ever getting free. Can you
see in this man’s case no likeness to your own? Look on sin as a debt, a
heavy debt, that you owe: do you not feel that you have no power to pay
it?”
“None,” replied Mark gloomily; “none.”
“I had the will to help the poor man,” continued Mr. Ewart, “but
Providence had not afforded me the means. I had no more ability to set
him free from prison than I have to rid you of the burden of your sin.”
“But the wealthy nobleman,” suggested Mark.
“He had both power and will. He paid the debt at once, and the prisoner
was released. Never shall I forget the poor man’s cry of delight, as the
heavy iron-studded door was thrown open for his passage, and he bounded
into the bright sunshine again!”
“And what became of him afterwards?” asked the boy.
“He entered the service of his generous benefactor, and became the most
faithful, the most attached of servants. He remained in that place till
he died; he seemed to think that he could never do enough for him who had
restored him to freedom.”
“Where is the friend to pay _my_ debt?” sighed Mark.
“It has been paid already,” said the clergyman.
“Paid! Oh, when, and by whom?”
“It was paid when the Saviour died upon the cross—it was paid by the
eternal Son of God. He entered for us the prison of this world, He paid
our debt with His own precious blood, He opened the gates of eternal
life; through His merits, for His sake, we are pardoned and saved, if we
have faith, true faith in that Saviour!”
“This is wonderful,” said Mark, thoughtfully, as though he could yet
scarcely grasp the idea. “And this faith must produce a holy life; but
here is the place where I went wrong—I thought men were saved _because_
they were holy.”
“They are holy because they are saved! Here was indeed your mistake,
my friend. The poor debtor was not set free because he had served his
benefactor, but he served him _because he was set free_! A tree does not
live because it has fruit, however abundant that fruit may be; but it
produces fruit _because it has life_, and good actions are the fruit of
our faith!”
“But are we safe whether we be holy or not?”
“_Without holiness no man shall see the Lord. Every tree that beareth not
good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire._”
“But I feel as if I could not be holy,” cried Mark. “I tried this day to
walk straight on in the narrow path of obedience to God—I tried, but I
miserably failed. I gained nothing at all by trying.”
“You gained the knowledge of your own weakness, my boy; you will trust
less to your resolutions in future, and so God will bring good out
of evil. And now let me ask you one question, Mark Dowley. When you
determined to set out on your Christian pilgrimage, did you pray for the
help and guidance of God’s Spirit?”
Mark, in a low voice, answered, “No!”
“And can you wonder then that you failed? could you have expected to
succeed? As well might you look for ripe fruit where the sun never
shines, or for green grass to spring where the dew never falls, or for
sails to be filled and the vessel move on when there is not a breath
of air. Sun, dew, and wind are given by God alone, and so is the Holy
Spirit, without which it is impossible to please Him.”
“And how can I have the Spirit?” said Mark.
“Ask for it, never doubting but that it shall be sent, for this is the
promise of the Lord: _Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find,
knock and it shall be opened unto you. If ye, being evil, know how to
give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which
is in heaven give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?_”
“And what will the Spirit do for me?”
“Strengthen you, increase your courage and your faith, make your
heart pure and holy. _The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace,
long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance._
Having these you are rich indeed, and may press on your way rejoicing to
the kingdom of your Father in heaven.”
“But how shall I pray?” exclaimed Mark. “I am afraid to address the Most
High God, poor miserable sinner that I am.”
“When the blessed Saviour dwelt upon earth, multitudes flocked around
him. The poor diseased leper fell at his feet, he was not despised
because he was unclean; parents brought their children to the Lord, they
were not sent away because they were feeble; the thief asked for mercy on
the cross, he was not rejected because he was a sinner. The same gentle
Saviour who listened to them is ready to listen to you; the same merciful
Lord who granted their prayers is ready to give an answer to yours. Pour
out your whole heart, as you would to a friend; tell Him your wants, your
weakness, your woe, and you never will seek Him in vain!”
There was silence for a few minutes, during which Mark remained buried
in deep, earnest thought. The clergyman silently lifted up his heart to
heaven for a blessing upon the words that had been spoken; then, rising
from his seat, he said, “I do not give up all hope, Mark Dowley, of
procuring a situation for you yet; though, of course, after what has
occurred, I shall find it more difficult to do so. And one word before
we part. You are now standing before the gate of mercy, a helpless,
burdened, but not hopeless sinner. There is One ready, One willing to
open to you, if you knock by sincere humble prayer. Go, then, without
delay, _seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he
is near_.”
Mark watched the receding figure of the clergyman with a heart too full
to express thanks. As soon as Mr. Ewart was out of sight, once more
the boy threw himself down on the grass, but no longer in a spirit of
despair. Trying to realize the truth, that he was indeed in the presence
of the Saviour of whom he had heard—that the same eye which regarded
the penitent thief with compassion was now regarding him from heaven—he
prayed, with the energy of one whose all is at stake, for pardon, for
grace, for the Spirit of God! He rose with a feeling of comfort and
relief, though the burden on his heart was not yet removed. He believed
that the Lord was _gracious and long-suffering, that Jesus came into the
world to save sinners_; he had knocked at the strait gate, which gives
entrance into life, and mercy had opened it unto him!