_THE GOLDEN OIL: AN ALLEGORY._
I fell asleep and dreamed. Before me spread out verdant fields,
picturesque villages, valleys of peace and plenty, cities of care and
toil, the wide ocean restlessly tossing, the mountain bare and rugged.
At first my eyes seemed heavy with sleep, but after a time I began to
see things more clearly, and in all these varied scenes I perceived
there were children moving to and fro.
I was apparently at a great distance from them, and could not well
understand what they did, nor could I hear what they said.
They appeared to be very busy, often eagerly running or walking; talking
together in twos and threes; playing with the trifles which seemed to
lie everywhere for their amusement; sometimes two quarrelling loudly
over these same trifles, and crying pitifully if they could not have
what they wanted.
In my dream I seemed to be drawing nearer and nearer to them, and I
began to perceive the differences in their countenances and dress, and
to find that there was only one point of resemblance in them all; and
this one thing caused me great surprise.
Some were robed in dresses whose sheen, reflecting the rays of the
morning sun, dazzled my eyes; again, others had garments of the dullest
hue; and the clothes of others were so covered with mud and dirt, that I
could not have told what they once were. But, whether gaily decked or
dressed in sombre attire, each child had fastened round it a
curiously-fashioned girdle, to which hung a small pitcher. The pitchers
appeared to be all of one shape and size, but the materials of which
they were made seemed to differ widely.
On some of the children, whose dress was of gayest hue, the pitcher,
strange to say, appeared to be made of commonest material, for it looked
dull and dark; while at the girdle of some who were most plainly attired
hung vessels of brightest gold. This also was incomprehensible to me.
Presently my dream seemed to bring me so near that I could see what they
were doing and hear a little of what they said.
A group of them were sitting on a bank of flowers, resting in the shade,
and as they talked I drew near to listen.
"I do not believe it," said a sturdy little boy, as he threw a ball of
flowers into the lap of a little maiden opposite.
"What do you not believe?" asked a grave-looking girl who was seated
near.
"That there is any hurry to get the pitchers filled."
"Did any one say there was?" asked the girl, glancing thoughtfully at
the vessel hanging at her side, while I perceived that it had the look
of being neglected and soiled.
"Yes, there was a proclamation this morning that the pitchers might be
needed this very day, and that all who had not the Golden Oil should,
without delay, repair to the place whence it could be obtained."
"So there is every day," exclaimed a tall youth who was lying on the
grass at their feet. "That is nothing new: it is the duty of the Herald
to proclaim, and it is our duty to hear, but----"
"No one ever thinks of obeying," laughed the roguish boy, weaving his
flowers as if all his life were centred in doing that only.
But the thoughtful girl looked up with a deep flush at those careless
words. "I do not think _every one_ does that, Ashton; for Esther
here----"
She pointed to a child at a little distance who was threading daisies
together wherewith to deck a tiny brother, who sat watching her little
fingers with absorbed interest.
Now that my attention was directed to this little girl, I took note of
her for the first time. Her dress was of some white material, her eyes
clear as the deep summer azure, her face full of sunshine, while close
to her heart a golden pitcher gleamed in the light, as her happy little
figure turned backwards and forwards in her task.
"Oh, Esther always obeys!" said the youth from the grass, "and is the
happiest little mortal in doing so; but that would not suit every one."
He turned round restlessly, and any one who cared might see that his
pitcher was empty enough as it lay on the ground under his arm.
Esther was all unconscious that the eyes of the party were fixed upon
her. When she had completed her chain of daisies, she took her little
brother's hand in hers.
"Now, darling," she said softly, "you promised me you would go at once
to get your little pitcher filled."
He nodded and trotted off by her side, while she continued, "It would be
so sad not to have any Oil when night comes on, wouldn't it?"
"But you could lend me some," answered the child, confident in her love.
"You know I can't; I must not; no one can lend. So that is why I want
you to get some for yourself."
As they turned round to go towards the place where I imagined the
Golden Oil was to be obtained, I saw another strange thing about these
children which I had not noticed before; each carried, fastened to the
same girdle, a tiny lamp. I looked round to enquire the meaning of it
all, but found myself unable to speak; so I could do nothing but follow
the two children to see what would become of them.
"But why must we have our lamps lighted. Esther?" asked the little one;
"I go to sleep all night."
"Yes," said Esther; "but every night before I go to sleep I trim and
light my lamp, and then, if the King were to come, I should only have to
jump up and run out to welcome Him."
"But I should take hold of your hand, Esther!" said the little man.
"Oh, but the King says we must _obey_, Ernest; it is of no use thinking
you will do all those things. You might not be able to find me in the
dark, nor find the King. He tells us to ask for the Golden Oil, and to
trim the golden lamp, and we have nothing to do but obey."
Esther pressed his little hand, and they hastened on. Presently, just by
the side of the road I saw a Herald standing, with an open book in his
hand, and though I could not catch all the words he said, I saw that the
children understood.
"I do not like to go in," little Ernest was urging, as he pulled back
Esther's hand; "I am afraid to."
"But the Herald says, 'Whosoever _will_,' that means you, Ernest
darling."
Then they turned in under an archway, Ernest, now that his mind was made
up, running on before.
Esther waited just inside the gate. She could not follow right into the
chamber where the Oil was given away, for each one who would get his
vessel filled with the Golden Oil must go in alone to receive it.
In a very few minutes Ernest came out again, bearing the golden pitcher
full of Golden Oil. His face was radiant, and as he took Esther's hand
once more, he looked up into her face with large, wondering eyes.
"Esther," he said, "the King came down and spoke to me Himself, and put
His hand on my head, and charged me to listen to the Herald's message,
and to obey."
Esther's eyes glistened. "Is He not a gracious King, Ernest?" she said.
As my eyes followed these children I perceived that the possession of
the Golden Oil seemed to bring them happiness and peace.
Everywhere they went they did loving little actions, said kind little
words. Sometimes I wondered at the very smallness of these actions and
words; and yet, as I noticed the faces brighten on whom they fell, I
knew that they were understood and appreciated.
By-and-by Esther joined the group of children from whom she had parted
but a while ago. The sun had risen higher in the heavens, and had begun
to descend by the time she and Ernest returned to them; but still they
were where they had been, and were occupied in much the same way as
before.
The tall boy in the grass had sauntered away for a walk with another
companion, and though he again passed the Herald, his warning voice was
still unheeded.
Esther sat down by the girl whom I had observed as being anxious about
the Golden Oil, and as little Ernest ran to play with some other
children Esther said, "I wish you had been with us, Allea; we have had
such a happy morning."
"I cannot see that a walk with a little prattling brother can give such
delight," she answered.
"But we have been to get his pitcher filled. Oh, Allea, I went almost
into the presence of the King!"
"You _did_!"
"Yes; I was never so near before, except the day----"
"When?" asked Allea, looking into Esther's face.
"When He gave me the Oil Himself."
"You make so much of having this Oil," said Allea, discontentedly;
"more than half the world gets on very well without it."
Esther looked abashed for a moment. This was true certainly. Then her
eyes were raised to the blue vault of the sky above her, and beyond it
she saw, what all those who received the Golden Oil could see if they
looked, a mystic word written--Eternity!--and as she read and re-read
its well-known letters, they seemed to melt away and transform
themselves into a wondrous palace of beauty and light, where her King
dwelt, and where He had promised to take those who obeyed Him during
this little Journey. Still absorbed in the sight, she gazed upward till
one by one the azure towers and palaces faded back; but before it
vanished from her sight, once more the word Eternity stood like a fleecy
cloud upon the blue, and then melted away.
Then her eyes came back to her companion's face: "Yes, Allea, you are
quite right, half the world does very well without it _now_."
"Well?" said Allea impatiently.
"But when this little Journey is ended, or when night comes on, if the
King suddenly calls us to come with Him, then, oh, Allea! what would it
be to be shut out of the Everlasting City?"
Allea was silent, while one or two children who had noticed the
earnestness of their talk had gathered round them to hear. "Will you
not get your pitcher filled to-day. Allea?" pleaded Esther with wistful
eyes.
"By-and-by," she answered; "I shall be passing that way this evening."
"The night cometh when no one can work," whispered Esther, as if to
herself.
"But I am going before night," answered Allea somewhat proudly; "you are
too fast, Esther."
As they sat and talked, I fancied that shadows began to fall over the
land. The children did not seem to heed it at first, but presently they
seemed divided one from another by the deepening twilight, and before I
knew where I was, I found myself following Esther and her little
brother, who held by the hand one of the children who had been listening
to the conversation.
Again we approached the portal where the Herald stood, and I could see
that Ernest and Esther were both hurrying forward with all their speed,
helping their companion along, who, though hastening as much as she
could, seemed weary and spent.
Ever and anon upon the quiet evening air the Herald's voice sounded
clear and full, 'The time is short--the day is far spent--ask and it
shall be given you;' and as they ran under the archway darkness fell
upon the land, and I could not follow them.
But while I pondered on these things, I saw a little glimmering light in
a casement, and seemed drawn to approach near enough to see what it
was. As I came close I could see the interior of a small chamber; hard
by on a couch lay Esther, fast asleep, with her little brother's arms
flung about her neck. Close beside them, and still fastened by golden
links to their waists, stood the two Golden Lamps, burning brightly and
steadily, while a King's Messenger, arrayed in white apparel, waited
near, guarding the sleepers and the Lamps with watchful care.
Long did I look, and was at last turning away, when a strange sound
startled the midnight air: "Your King cometh! your King cometh!"
At the words, so long looked for, so eagerly expected, Esther sprang
from her rest, caught her Lamp in her hand, looked round with joyful
eyes for her little brother, who had also heard that cry, and then both
ran out to meet the King. Did I see their companion of the evening
before, holding aloft a Golden Lamp too, to welcome Him?
And then I thought I heard confused tones of regret, and sorrow, and
wailing disappointment, as one and another, awakened by the lights and
glad sounds, hastened from their couches--not to meet the King; alas!
no--but to find He had come, and had taken those who were ready, into
His glorious Palace, to go no more out for ever.
* * * * *
"Agnes," said Minnie, looking up solemnly into her sister's face, "I
think I know, but isn't the Oil in that story meant for the Holy
Spirit?"
"Yes, darling, and the promise stands fresh and sure now, as it did
eighteen hundred years ago, 'If ye...know how to give good gifts unto
your children, how much more shall your Heavenly Father give the Holy
Spirit to them that ask Him.'"
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