CHAPTER VIII.
HOMEWARD BOUND.
Back to the world we faithless turn'd, And far along the wild, With labour lost and sorrow earn'd, Our steps have been beguiled.--KEBLE.
The Sundays on board the _Arctic_ were spent as the doctor had ledHubert to expect; and happy, holy days they were--no one enjoyed themmore than Hubert, and on more than one occasion he spoke of them to hisfriend. His remarks, however, were never responded to heartily, andHubert felt annoyed that he had formed a friendship with a man whoseemed to have no interest in the chief of all his enjoyments. "It maybe," said Hubert one day, as he sat alone in his cabin--"it may bebecause he has never been struck down as I have been; or it may be--Ah!what may it be?" Then he fell into a deep reverie, and wondered manythings as to the cause of his friend's indifference to sacred things;and he prayed for a beam of light into the heart which appeared to himto be darkened. Hubert felt a growing anxiety about his friend--he knewthey could not be companions very long; the journey, long as it yet was,was daily growing shorter, and he did not feel certain that he would notbe in some way responsible if he allowed the present opportunity topass.
Some timid Christians are frightened into silence by the mere worldlyboldness of those amongst whom they dwell, but it was not so withHubert. His companion was a quiet, unobtrusive man, as amiable and kindas it was possible to be; and yet Hubert had not boldness sufficient totell him that the Bible was the theme he loved best, and heaven thechief place of his interest. And why was it? In that stranger there waseducation, refined taste and eloquence, united to the pursuits of alifetime; and whatever resolution Hubert made when alone, he alwaysfailed to accomplish it when he came and sat down by his side. Sometimesthe subject was upon Hubert's lips, and many times his hand was in hiscoat-pocket, in which the torn Bible lay; but then he feared to produceit, lest his friend, who seemed to know the human heart so well, shouldreproach him for having taken up religion in his infirmity, when he haddevoted his health and strength to dissipation and pleasure. It grievedhim very much, for it made him ill at ease with himself: his Bible washis chief companion, it is true, and there was nothing that he loved sowell. Sometimes he wondered at himself for taking such delight in it,and, acting upon the advice of his old friend the doctor, "to try andexamine all the thoughts and intentions of the heart," he imposed uponhimself many a search to find out, if possible, why it was that thepages of that torn book gave him such delight--why at times his tearswould fall as he read it--and why sometimes his bosom would swell, andhis heart beat, at the story it told him; but he could not find out howit was, he only knew that he loved it, and wanted others to love it too.
The ship made a rather quick run to the Cape, where she stayed afortnight; and Hubert so much improved in strength, that he laid asidehis crutch, and walked easily with two walking-sticks. With hisreturning strength his spirit and face grew more cheerful, and he beganto feel a hankering for his home in England; it became a favouritethought, and after that a frequent topic of conversation.
"I have only one desire," he would sometimes say, "and that is, thatthose I left behind so many years ago may be alive to welcome me home."
"You can hardly expect it," said his friend on one occasion, as they sattogether on deck. "A great many changes occur in the space of a quarterof a century, and it is generally those we love best who are taken thefirst away from us."
"Perhaps to draw our thoughts to heaven," said Hubert.
"Perhaps so," replied his friend; "but suppose it does not do it, andinstead of our becoming very resigned and heavenly-minded we becomereckless and desperate, and think of any place but heaven,--what then?"
"I don't know," said Hubert, "except that the man who could feel whatyou say must be one who has forgotten to worship God, and so whentrouble comes upon him he hasn't God to help him to bear it."
The stranger looked earnestly into Hubert's face; there might have beena home-thrust in that remark, for, heaving a deep sigh, he said, "I hopeyou have never known what it is to lose a friend very, very dear to you,and I hope you never will--yours is a beautiful delusion. I had it once,but I haven't it now, and I hope circumstances may never rob you of it."
"I hope not. But, my friend," said Hubert, laying his hand upon his arm,"I _have_ lost one very, _very_ dear to me, all I ever loved, and it isthe beautiful delusion you name that has helped me to bear it; nay, itis not a delusion, it is a high hope--a hope that when this life isended, and all who are dear to us have been taken away, we shall meetonce again in heaven, to live together for ever."
Hubert's face had become animated while he spoke, and in his warmth heput his hand into his pocket, intending to bring out his Bible; but hisfriend checked him by saying, "What a strange, powerful influence thethings we learn in our youth have over our lives! A holy preceptinstilled into us when we are lads, is a diamond set in an imperishablecasket; and though the dust of careless, sceptical manhood mayoftentimes cover over the gem, still it is there as bright as ever,ready to shine with its former lustre when the heart, trusting andbelieving, instead of doubting, fans off the black shadow of unbelief;surely it is then that God's Spirit breathes once again into man thebreath of life."
"How I wish I could talk as you do!" said Hubert; "then I would tell youwhat I feel. But when I want to speak, I seem to feel so much that Ihave no words to express myself, and so I say but little. How is it,though, that you speak so of God? I thought you were unbelieving."
"And what have I said to make you think that I believe now?"
"You must," said Hubert, "else you would not speak so of the Spirit ofGod. When I spoke of God, you called it a delusion, and I said nothinglike what you have said. You surely are not a sceptic? you mustbelieve."
"I may believe some things, but not all that you do; for it has been aneasy matter to forget all about the one true God in a country where somany gods are worshipped."
"Did you forget, with all your learning and eloquence? Did _you_forget?"
"Yes; didn't you?"
"Oh yes, I did; I dare not tell you what I did, neither can I tell youwhat I have suffered, nor how good and gracious God has been to me. Formore than twenty years I chose to live regardless of a futurelife--indeed, regardless of anything but sin. I always tremble when Ithink how I have lived, and yet see how gracious God has been to me; andthough you, too, forget to serve Him, He has not forgotten to begracious and merciful to you."
The stranger sat still, in a careless attitude, with his broad-brimmedstraw hat shading his face, and his hands thrust into the pockets of hisloose coat. He spoke nothing in answer to Hubert's remarks, and Hubert,after maintaining the silence for some time, rose from his seat and wentto his cabin. Ben, the sailor, had opened the cabin window, againstwhich the rippling of the calm sea occasionally threw a tiny crystal,and as Hubert entered, and saw Ben standing before the window, hesaid--
"Are you afraid the water will be in, Ben?"
"Oh no, your honour," said the sailor, touching the little bit of hairupon his forehead, "we're more than four feet above water at thiswindow; but I was a-thinking, your honour, of the storm on the Sea ofGalilee, and how our Saviour caused a great calm: it was a wonderfulthing, and I dare say it made a good many believe on Him as didn'tbelieve before. St. Mark says there was also some little ships besidesthe one Christ was in, and I dare say there was a good many in thoseships as didn't believe Him at all; but it just wanted that greattempest to frighten 'em and make 'em believe."
"It might, indeed," replied Hubert, into whose heart a new light hadsuddenly shone, "for God, who knows all hearts, knew what was intheirs."
"True, your honour, and it's the same now; many men won't believe theGospel until they are like, as it were, in the tempest, obliged to bestruck down with illness, or such-like, I mean."
With the concluding words the sailor left the cabin, and Hubert sat downto read all about that storm on the Sea of Galilee; he had read itbefore, but never with such an interest as now, and it reminded him oft
he tempest that had once come upon him; and he saw a deep truth in thesailor's remark, that it is the storm that drives the sinner to Christ.Then he sat and wondered what he must do to try and convince hisstranger friend of these things, and the prayer was almost upon his lipsthat some terrible tempest might overwhelm him, if it would bring him tothe footstool of Jesus.
That night, as though in answer to his heart's desire, Hubert dreamtthat his friend was "a vessel meet for the Master's use," and in ajoyous burst of feeling he awoke.
"I know it, I am sure of it," he said to himself "he is a believer; abackslider, perhaps, but not a sceptic." And he longed for the daylightto come, that he might again seek his friend; and as he lay awake duringthe remainder of the night, he tried to throw many of the incidents ofhis own life round that of the stranger. He would give anything almostto hear something more of his history; what he had told him was notenough, and Hubert hoped for a closer and firmer friendship. A kindredwish seemed to have passed nearly at the same time through the mind ofthe stranger, for he had retired to rest with the hope that he might getto know something more of Hubert; and the next morning, when they met ondeck, there was a cordial greeting, and they went and sat down on theseat they had occupied the day before. There were several passengers onboard the ship, but Hubert and the stranger were exclusive in theirfriendship, so that when together they met with no interruption; andthis time, as they talked of various things, with the wide-spread oceanaround them, Hubert, after a pause, said--
"Did you ever read the story of Jesus Christ stilling the tempest on theSea of Galilee?"
"Yes, many times; why?"
Then Hubert repeated what Ben the sailor had said; told, too, from whosehonest heart the ideas came; and his bosom felt a thrill of pleasure atthe earnest attention the stranger gave him.
"Well done, Ben," burst suddenly from his lips, "Why, Captain Goodwin,he's a clear-headed fellow. It's astonishing what remarkably goodnotions those sailors sometimes have."
Then he returned to Hubert's subject, painted in rich imagery the silentlake, the little vessels, and the sleeping Saviour; then the tempest,the alarm, the cry, "Save, or we perish," and the Omnipotent, "Peace, bestill." He knew all about it; he likened the silent lake to man's heartin boasted security; the little vessels to the many sins of hisindulgence; the sleeping Saviour, to conscience hushed by sin; thetempest, to man awakening; the alarm, to man seeking pardon; the cry, toman's heart broken in despair; and the "Peace, be still," the voice of areconciled God, the sign-manual of forgiveness.
Hubert had never heard anything that told upon his heart with strongerpower. Tears were in his eyes, and, drawing a long breath, he said--
"How could you make me think that there was anything that you did notbelieve in reference to God, when you know so much, and can explain sobeautifully? Oh, if I knew only half what you do--if I had but a littleof your power to express myself, what a Christian I would be."
"You don't know," said the stranger, laying his hand upon Hubert'sraised arm. "The head may be full of knowledge, and the tongue fluentin speech, and yet the heart may be cold. It has been said, that for aspeaker to move the hearts of his hearers, he must himself feel thepower of his subject. Now, in worldly matters it may be so, but I aminclined to think that in religious matters it is not obliged to be.There is in all things referring to man's soul a secret influence whichdoes not necessarily require the fire of man's heart to make iteffective. God's Spirit is alone sufficient to move the waters.Eloquence, indeed! Oh, beware how you covet it. Where is there anythingfiner than the testimony of Christ's divinity made by the _demon_ in thesynagogue at Capernaum--'What have we to do with thee, thou Jesus ofNazareth? Art thou come to destroy us? I know thee who thou art, theHoly One of God.' Be assured that, after all, there is no sublimerstrain that reaches the ears of the Most High than the contrite 'Lord,save, or we perish.'"
There was much earnestness in the stranger's manner, and the last wordshe uttered struck Hubert as a prayer coming up from the depths of thatheart which, in the stillness of the previous night, he had satisfiedhimself was not sceptical, but backsliding. Hubert's curiosity was moreawakened, and just as he was about to ask his friend another question,they were interrupted by the sailors coming to the part of the vesselwhere they were seated, to attend to some portion of the rigging.Hubert, taking his stick, walked away slowly to his cabin, but hisfriend did not follow him, and he sat down in silence alone. How manysubjects, during the voyage, that stranger had given Hubert to thinkabout! and the time had passed so pleasantly that he had not missed,quite so much as he had anticipated, the friends in India. Many newlights had shone into his heart, and his mind had opened to more truthsby the companionship he had made, and he felt now as much delighted withthe friendship, as a short time before he had been disappointed; thatshort prayer, so emphatically spoken, had touched a deep feeling of hisown heart, and he wondered whether the high order of intellect, thelearning and eloquence of his friend, had not proved to him a snare, inthe same way that the careless, reckless, self-will of his own naturehad been to him.
"Great God!" he said, gazing upward, "guide the thoughts of my heartaright, lest I argue that some of thy gifts are given to man to hisinjury."
How humble Hubert had become, how ready to resign his own will to thatof a higher! and many a prayer he breathed that day--for the evilthought came continually up in his mind, that God's gifts were notalways for good. Do as he would, or think as he would, that same thoughtwas uppermost in his mind, and he felt that it was the evil one graspingat the expiring hope of bringing him back to him again. Hubert's faith,however, was growing stronger every day: he had learnt to feel thatwithout the guidance and protection of God he was a frail erringcreature, and it led him to be frequently a suppliant, and frequently areceiver of heavenly strength.
"Get thee behind me, Satan; every gift of God _is_ good and perfect, andit is thou, thou false one, that pervertest them from the end for whichthey are given;" and Hubert, as he ceased speaking, took out his "tornBible" to read: there was comfort there, and his heart became morecheerful, his faith stronger, as he read upon a soiled torn page ofthat precious book--"Fear thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed,for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, Iwill uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness."
It mattered not to whom, nor under what circumstances, such passages ofScripture were written--they were as effective to Hubert as though theyhad been penned for him alone; and he took them all to himself, andbecame more trusting and more holy. Neither Jew nor Gentile made a stoneat which his feet were to stumble; as he opened his "torn Bible" andread, so he believed: the promise or the threatening, as it stood there,was what his heart received, and he believed now that God was near him,helping him to overcome the tempter.
The Torn Bible; Or, Hubert's Best Friend Page 8
