CHAP. II.

How pleasant is the Sabbath! and how good is God, who not only allows, but demands for the humblest of his creatures, a day of rest—the poor horse who dragged the heavy plough all the week, now crops the grass at his ease, or draws a mouthful of hay from the crib. The patient ass who drew many a basket of turf to the town, now rambles by the side of the road, and feeds on the thistles in the hedge. I hope there are no children so cruel as to teaze and torment him. “God is the Maker of all creatures,” said Michael Connor to his little boys, “and he will punish those who wantonly hurt even the poor ass.”

Peter Lacy came, with his wife, in good time for the morning prayers. Susan looked very smart, and held up her head; but Mary did not seem a bit less happy than she did. Mary had no gay stuff gown, but one of plain blue check; with a black bonnet, which looked new because it was carefully kept, and not tossed about and dirtied. She learned from her Bible that pride is hateful to God, and that the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit is what He loves, and fitter for a Christian woman than the plaiting the hair, and putting on of rich apparel. “Indeed it is melancholy,” she would often say, “to behold a poor body, made from the dust of the earth, and returning to it again, pampered and puffed up, as if it was a great thing in the sight of God; while the immortal soul is left neglected; and, if found unprepared to meet the Judge at the last day, together with the naked, shivering body, will be sentenced to be cast into the lake of eternal fire.”

They soon set out for prayers, and the two eldest boys went with them.

Lacy could not help observing how devoutly Connor and Mary joined in the whole service: he looked and wondered; he could not feel as they did, nor pray like them, but he wished to do so; nor was he disappointed in the end:—God, who sees the heart of man, and knows all his thoughts, will answer the humble prayers of a soul that begins to feel his own sinfulness, and the want of a Saviour; the effect of the Holy Spirit’s influence on those that seek Him.

All this time Susan was looking about her; but though there was not so smart a gown in that place, very few minded the pattern.

In his sermon, the clergyman spoke like a father to his children. Among other things, he told them in particular, “how sinful and how ignorant they were by nature, and how useless all endeavours of their own to please God must be, unless they come to Him by his Son,” (John xiv. 6.) through whose blood alone they could be cleansed from all sin, and clothed in the wedding garment of the Saviour’s righteousness.—That they must be taught of God to feel the plague of their own hearts, and loathe sin. That being brought to a sense of their lost state, and to an entire dependence upon the merits of their Saviour, and upon them alone, for pardon, they should, seeking the blessing humbly in God’s appointed way, receive the gift of a new heart; their former inclinations and sinful ways being exchanged for godly desires and holy pursuits, and they should become “new creatures.” For, “if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” 2 Cor. v. 17.

He spoke also of what followed upon this great change, of the fruits of this conversion from sin unto righteousness, how the true Christian was full of tenderness to his fellow-creatures, “and loved his neighbour as himself.” He showed that they could not any longer allow themselves to give way to their passions; in particular, he mentioned the evil nature of anger, which Christians must entirely forsake; and that provoking to anger was a thing equally bad.

It was a discourse that went to Lacy’s very heart: he would have given the world to have understood it better; and as for his wife, she, for once, forgot her gown while she listened to the sermon.

Lacy and Susan asked no questions till after dinner, when Connor had very devoutly returned thanks to God for all the good things he sent them. At last he said, “Connor, did you understand the sermon?”

“Yes, through God’s blessing, I trust I did,” replied Connor.

“Now I listened all through,” said Lacy, “but could make out very little of what he meant, except when he spoke about anger, and such other evil passions,” looking at Susan.

“And of provoking to anger,” said Susan, looking at him.

“But did you not understand what he said about loving one another?” asked Mary.

“Why, yes, I think so,” replied Lacy; “but what did he mean by our coming to Christ to be cleansed and clothed?”

“He meant,” answered Connor, “as the Bible shows, that nothing could wash away our sins but the blood that was shed on the cross for us—and that renouncing all dependence upon our own works, we must take for the garment of salvation, the righteousness of Christ, which alone can make us fit to appear before God.”

“I suppose,” said Susan, “there were some very wicked people there, and the clergyman meant it for them.”

“Aye,” said Connor, “and for the very best people there too;—there are none in the world fit to enter heaven without being so cleansed and so clothed.”

“That is odd!” exclaimed Lacy, “for supposing that you and I, and the two wives, are all sinners, sure the little boys cannot be sinners?”

“Oh, yes we are, indeed?” said little William, shaking his head sorrowfully, “Peter and I are bad boys: I told a lie twice; and Peter pulled an apple that father told him not to touch.”

“Poor dears!” said Susan; “and do you think such little trifles will keep you out of heaven?”

“All sin will do so,” said Connor; “a small penknife will destroy life, as well as a great sword; they knew it was wrong, yet they did it, and that was sin. Little as they are, they already feel the want of pardon for their sin, through the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Lacy felt somewhat alarmed. “If this be true,” thought he, “what a vile sinner am I!”

He leaned his head on his hand, for some time; then striking the table, he exclaimed, “I shall never understand all this.”

“Good neighbour, it cannot be learned without the grace of God to teach us.”

“How may a body get that grace?” said Lacy.

“By praying for it,” replied Mary; “we should often say, ‘Lord teach us to pray.’ Our Saviour says, ‘Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.’ ‘Ask and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full;’ ‘seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you.’”

“And will praying teach me every thing,” said Lacy.

“The Holy Spirit will teach you,” replied Connor, “to understand what you read in the Bible, and hear on the Sabbath. When we read the Scriptures let our prayer be, ‘Lord, open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law.’”

“Well, if I had time, I would read the Bible,” said Lacy.

“Cannot you read it, as I do, of an evening after work, and on Sundays?”

“No,” said Lacy, “I am too tired at night to bother myself with book learning; and Sunday is the only day I have for making merry.”

Thus does Satan try to smother the first sparks of conviction in our hearts, and make us unwilling to strive for a blessing.

Lacy and Susan thought themselves excellent Christians for having been to prayers; and in the labour of the week they soon forgot the warning voice of the clergyman and of Connor.