Annals of the Poor

by John Kendrick Bangs

  PART VI.

  The truth and excellence of the religion of Jesus Christ appear to beremarkably established by the union of similarity with variety, in theeffect which it produces on the hearts and lives of true believers. Inthe grand and essential features of Christian experience, the wholehousehold of God possess an universal sameness of character, a familylikeness, which distinguishes them from all the world besides: yet, innumerous particulars, there also exists a beautiful variety.

  On the one hand, in the aged and the young, in the wise and theunlearned, in the rich and the poor; in those of stronger and weakerdegrees of mental capacity, in more sanguine or more sedate dispositions;and in a multitude of otherwise varying circumstances, there is astriking conformity of principles and feeling to Christ, and to eachother. Like the flowers of the field and the garden, they are "allrooted and grounded" in the soil of the same earth; they are warmed bythe same sun, refreshed by the same air, and watered by the same dews.They each derive nourishment, growth, and increase from the same life-giving Source. As the flower puts forth its leaves and petals, adornsthe place which it inhabits with its beauty, and possesses an internalsystem of qualities, whereby it is enabled to bring forth its seed orfruit in the appointed season; so does the Christian.

  But, on the other hand, like the flowers also, some Christians may besaid to grow on the mountain tops, some in valleys, some in the waters,and others in dry ground. Different colours, forms, and sizes,distinguish them from each other, and produce a diversity of characterand appearance which affords a delightful variety, both for the purposesof use and beauty. Yet is that variety perfectly consistent with theiressential unity of nature in the vegetable kingdom, to which they allequally belong.

  In another particular they likewise resemble. They both die a naturaldeath. The Lord ever preserves "a seed to serve him," from generation togeneration; for as one disappears, another springs up to supply hisplace. But "it is appointed unto all men once to die."--Man "comethforth like a flower and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow, andcontinueth not."--"All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as theflower of the grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof fallethaway."

  In the midst of such diversity of Christian characters there is much tolove and admire. I have selected the case of little Jane, as one notundeserving of notice.

  It is true, she was only a child--a very poor child--but a child saved bydivine grace, enlightened with the purest knowledge, and adorned withunaffected holiness; she was a child, humble, meek, and lowly. She"found grace in the eyes of the Lord" while she was on earth; and, Idoubt not, will be seen on his right hand at the last day. As such,there is preciousness in the character, which will account for myattempting once more to write concerning her, and describe her lastmoments before she went to her final rest.

  At a very early hour on the morning of the following day, I was awoke bythe arrival of a messenger, bringing an earnest request that I wouldimmediately go to the child, as her end appeared to be just approaching.

  It was not yet day when I left my house to obey the summons. The morningstar shone conspicuously clear. The moon cast a mild light over theprospect, but gradually diminished in brightness as the eastern skybecame enlightened. The birds were beginning their songs, and seemedready to welcome the sun's approach. The dew plentifully covered thefields, and hung suspended in drops from the trees and hedges. A fewearly labourers appeared in the lanes, travelling towards the scene oftheir daily occupations.

  All besides was still and calm. My mind, as I proceeded, was deeplyexercised by thoughts concerning the affecting event which I expectedsoon to witness.

  The rays of the morning star were not so beautiful in my sight, as thespiritual lustre of this young Christian's character. "Her night was farspent;" the morning of a "better day was at hand." The sun of eternalblessedness was ready to break upon her soul with rising glory. Like themoon, which I saw above me, this child's exemplary deportment had gentlycast a useful light over the neighbourhood where she dwelt. Like thismoon she had for a season been permitted to shine amidst the surroundingdarkness; and her rays were also reflected from a luminary, in whosenative splendour her own would quickly be blended and lost.

  The air was cool, but the breezes of the morning were refreshing, andseemed to foretell the approach of a beautiful day. Being accustomed, inmy walks, to look for subjects of improving thought and association, Ifound them in every direction around me as I hastened onwards to thehouse where Jane lay, waiting for a dismissal from her earthly dwelling.

  I felt that the twilight gravity of nature was, at that hour, peculiarlyappropriate to the circumstances of the case; and the more so, becausethat twilight was significantly adorned with the brilliant sparklings ofthe star on one hand, and the clear, pale lustre of the waning moon onthe other.

  When I arrived at the house, I found no one below; I paused for a fewminutes, and heard the girl's voice very faintly saying, "Do you think hewill come? I should be so glad--so very glad to see him before I die."

  I ascended the stairs--her father, mother, and brother, together with theelderly woman before spoken of, were in the chamber. Jane's countenancebore the marks of speedy dissolution. Yet, although death was manifestin the languid features, there was something more than ever interestingin the whole of her external aspect. The moment she saw me, a renewedvigour beamed in her eye; grateful affection sparkled in the dying face.

  Although she had spoken just before I entered, yet for some timeafterwards she was silent, but never took her eyes off me. There wasanimation in her look--there was more--something like a foretaste ofheaven seemed to be felt, and gave an inexpressible character ofspiritual beauty, even in death.

  At length she said, "This is very kind, sir--I am going fast--I wasafraid I should never see you again in this world."

  I said, "My child, are you resigned to die?"

  "Quite."

  "Where is your hope?"

  She lifted up her finger, pointed to heaven, and then directed the samedownward to her own heart, saying successively as she did so, "Christ_there_, and Christ _here_."

  These words, accompanied by the action, spoke her meaning more solemnlythan can easily be conceived.

  A momentary spasm took place. Looking towards her weeping mother, shesaid, "I am very cold--but it is no matter--it will soon be over--"

  She closed her eyes for about a minute, and, on opening them again, said,"I wish, sir, when I am gone, you would tell the other children of theparish how good the Lord has been to me, a poor sinner--tell them, thatthey who seek him early will find him--tell them, that the ways of sinand ignorance are the ways to ruin and hell--and pray tell them, sir,from me, that Christ is indeed the Way, the Truth, and the Life--he willin no wise cast out any that come. Tell them that I, a poor girl--"

  She was quite exhausted, and sunk for a while into a torpid state, fromwhich, however, she recovered gradually, uttering these expressions:"Where am I?--I thought I was going--Lord, save me!"

  "My dear child, you will soon be for ever in _His_ arms who is nowguiding you by his rod and staff through the valley of the shadow ofdeath."

  "I believe so, indeed I do," said she; "I long to be with him!--Oh, howgood, how great, how merciful!--Jesus, save me, help me through this lasttrial!"

  She then gave one hand to her father, the other to her mother, and said,"God bless you, God bless you--seek the Lord--think of me when I amgone--it may be for your good--remember your souls--oh, for Christ's sakeremember your souls--then all may be well--you cannot know what I havefelt for both of you--Lord, pardon and save my dear father and mother!"

  She then took hold of her brother's hand, saying, "Thomas, I beg you toleave off your bad ways--read the Bible--I give you mine--I have found ita precious book. Do you not remember our little brother, who died someyears since?--he was praying to the last moment of his life. Learn topray while you are in health, and you will find the comfort and power ofit when you c
ome to die; but, first of all, pray for a new heart--withoutit you will never see God in heaven--your present ways lead to misery andruin--may the Lord turn your heart to love and follow him!"

  To the other woman she said, "I thank you, Dame K---, for all yourkindness since I have been ill--you have been a Christian friend to me,and I hope that the Lord will remember you for it, according to his richmercy:--you and I have many a time talked together about death; andthough I am the youngest, he calls me first to pass through it: but,blessed be his name, I am not terrified. I once thought I could neverdie without fear; but indeed I feel quite happy, now it is come; and sowill you, if you trust him--he is the God both of the old and the young."

  "Ah, my child!" said the woman, "I wish I was as fit to die as you are;but I fear that will never be--my sins have been many, very many."

  "Christ's blood cleanseth from all sin," said the child.

  At this moment, instead of growing weaker, through the fatigue of so muchspeaking, she seemed to gather fresh strength. She turned to me with alook of surprising earnestness and animation, saying,--

  "You, sir, have been my best friend on earth--you have taught me the wayto heaven, and I love and thank you for it--you have borne with myweakness and my ignorance--you have spoken to me of the love of Christ,and he has made me to feel it in my heart--I shall see him face toface--he will never leave me nor forsake me--he is the same, and changesnot. Dear sir, God bless you!"

  The child suddenly rose up, with an unexpected exertion, threw her livid,wasted arms around me, as I sat on the bedside, laid her head on myshoulder, and said distinctly, "God bless and reward you--give thanks forme to him--my soul is saved--Christ is everything to me! Sir, we shallmeet in heaven, shall we not?--Oh yes, yes--then all will bepeace--peace--peace--"

  She sank back on the bed, and spoke no more--fetched a deepsigh--smiled--and died.

  At this affecting moment, the rays of the morning sun darted into theroom, and filled my imagination with the significant emblem of "thetender mercy of our God; whereby the dayspring from on high hath visitedus, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow ofdeath, to guide our feet into the way of peace."

  It was a beam of light that seemed at once to describe the gloriouschange which her soul had now already experienced; and, at the same time,to shed the promised consolations of hope over the minds of those whowitnessed her departure.

  This was an incident obviously arising from a natural cause; but onewhich irresistibly connected itself with the spiritual circumstances ofthe case.

  For some time I remained silently gazing on the breathless corpse, andcould hardly persuade myself that Jane was indeed no longer there.

  As I returned homeward, I found it difficult to repress the strongfeelings of affection which such a scene had excited. Neither did I wishit. Religion, reason, and experience, rather bid us indulge, in dueplace and season, those tender emotions, which keep the heart alive toits most valuable sensibilities. To check them serves but to harden themind, and close the avenues which lead to the sources of our bestprinciples of action.

  Jesus himself _wept_ over the foreseen sorrows of Jerusalem. He _wept_also at the grave of his friend Lazarus. Such an example consecrates thetear of affection, while it teaches us, concerning them which are asleep,not to sorrow, as those which have no hope.

  I soon fell into meditation on the mysterious subject of the flight of asoul from this world to that of departed spirits.

  "Swifter than an arrow from the bow, or than the rays of light from thesun, has this child's spirit hastened, in obedience to its summons fromGod, to appear in his immediate presence. How solemn a truth is this foruniversal consideration! But, 'washed in the blood of the Lamb that wasslain,' and happily made partaker of its purifying efficacy, she meetsher welcome at the throne of God. She has nothing to fear from thefrowns of divine justice. Sin, death, and hell, are all vanquishedthrough the power of Him who hath made her more than conqueror. He willhimself present her to his Father, as one of the purchased lambs of hisflock--as one whom the Spirit of God 'has sealed unto the day ofredemption.'

  "What a change for her!--from that poor tattered chamber to the regionsof paradise!--from a bed of straw to the bosom of Abraham!--from poverty,sickness, and pain, to eternal riches, health, and joy!--from thecondition of a decayed, weary pilgrim in this valley of tears, to that ofa happy traveller safely arrived at home, in the rest that remaineth tothe people of God!

  "I have lost a young disciple, endeared to me by a truly parental tie.Yet how can I complain of that as lost which God has found? Her willingand welcome voice no longer seeks or imparts instruction here. But it isfar better employed. The angels, who rejoiced over her when her soulfirst turned to God, who watched the progress of her short pilgrimage,and who have now carried her triumphantly to the heavenly hills, havealready taught her to join

  'In holy song, their own immortal strains.'

  Why then should I mourn? The whole prospect, as it concerns her, isfilled with joy and immortality: 'Death is swallowed up in victory.'"

  As I looked upon the dewdrops which rested on the grass and hung from thebranches of the trees, I observed that the sun's rays first filled themwith beautiful and varied colours; then dried them up, and they were seenno longer.

  Thus it was with myself. The tears which I neither would nor couldrestrain, when I first began thus to reflect on the image of the dyingchamber of little Jane, were speedily brightened by the vivid sunshine ofhope and confidence. They then gradually yielded to the influence ofthat divine principle which shall finally wipe the tear from every eye,and banish all sorrow and sighing for evermore.

  On the fourth day from thence, Jane was buried. I had never beforecommitted a parishioner to the ground with similar affections. Theattendants were not many, but I was glad to perceive among them some ofthe children who had been accustomed to receive my weekly privateinstruction along with her.

  I wished that the scene might usefully impress their young hearts, andthat God would bless it to their edification.

  As I stood at the head of the grave, during the service, I connected pastevents, which had occurred in the churchyard, with the present. In thisspot Jane first learned the value of that gospel which saved her soul.Not many yards from her own burial-place, was the epitaph which hasalready been described as the first means of affecting her mind withserious and solemn conviction. It seemed to stand at _this_ moment as apeculiar witness for those truths which its lines proclaimed to everypassing reader. Such an association of objects produced a powerfuleffect on my thoughts.

  The evening was serene--nothing occurred to interrupt the quiet solemnityof the occasion.

  "Peace" was the last word little Jane uttered while living; and peaceseemed to be inscribed on the farewell scene of the grave where she waslaid. A grateful remembrance of that peace revives in my own mind, as Iwrite these memorials of it; and oh, may that peace which passeth allunderstanding be in its most perfect exercise, when I shall meet heragain at the last day!

  Attachment to the spot where this young Christian lay, induced me toplant a yew-tree close by the head of her grave, adjoining the easternwall of the church. I designed it as an evergreen monument of one whowas dear to memory. The young plant appeared healthy for a while, andpromised by its outward vigour long to retain its station. But itwithered soon afterwards, and, like the child whose grave it pointed outto notice, early faded away and died.

  The yew-tree proved a frail and short-lived monument. But a more lastingone dwells in my own heart. And perhaps this narrative may be permittedto transmit her memory to other generations, when the hand and heart ofthe writer shall be cold in the dust.

  Perchance some, into whose hands these pages may fall, will be led tocultivate their spiritual young plants with increased hopes of success,in so arduous an endeavour. May the tender blossoms reward their care,and bring forth early and acceptable fruit!

  Some, who have perhaps been
accustomed to undervalue the character of_very_ youthful religion, may hereby see that the Lord of grace and gloryis not limited in the exercise of his power by age or circumstance. Itsometimes appears in the displays of God's love to sinners, as it does inthe manifestations of his works in the heavens, that the _least_ of theplanets moves in the nearest course to the sun; and there enjoys the mostpowerful influence of his light, heat, and attraction.

  The story of this Young Cottager involves a clear evidence of thefreeness of the operations of divine grace on the heart of man; of theinseparable connection between true faith and holiness of disposition;and of the simplicity of character which a real love of Christ transfusesinto the soul.

  How many of the household of faith of every age,

  "Alike unknown to fortune and to fame,"

  have journeyed and are now travelling to their "city of habitation,"through the paths of modest obscurity and almost unheeded piety! It isone of the most interesting employments of the Christian minister tosearch out these spiritual lilies of the valley, whose beauty andfragrance are nearly concealed in their shady retreats. To rear theflower, to assist in unfolding its excellences, and bring forth its fruitin due season, is a work that delightfully recompenses the toil of thecultivator.

  While he is occupied in this grateful task of labouring in his heavenlyMaster's garden, some blight, some tempest, may chance to take away afavourite young blossom in a premature stage of its growth.

  If such a case should befall him, he will then, perhaps, as I have oftendone, when standing in pensive recollection at little Jane's grave, makean application of these lines, which are inscribed on a grave-stoneerected in the same churchyard, and say--

  "This lovely bud so young and fair, Called hence by early doom, Just came to show how sweet a flower In paradise would bloom."