IN THE SCHOOL OF CHRIST.

FOR several days previous to her conversation with Myra, Margaret had been conscious and cognisant of all that occurred in her room, but extreme weakness, together with many thoughts and feelings, good and bad, had held her silent.

She heard the soft music and sweet words of the hymns; she heard the one or two or three verses of Scripture read, and the short, earnest, loving prayers offered at her bedside by her aunt and Myra, and sometimes by her uncle, and had shown no sign of appreciation. But all the while, her conscience was at work, and at last, she gave up the weary contest with the truth it told of her great need, and surrendered herself a helpless sinner into the arms of a helpful Saviour.

The barriers of pride and rebellion broken down, the reaction was as strong as the opposition had been. Deeply she pondered on the forbearance and generosity with which she had been treated by Myra; and she was obliged to trace them to the ruling principle of Christian faith. No human temper, she felt sure, could have endured so long, without bursts of indignant anger and many hard words, the persistent coldness and rudeness, and frequent disobedience with which she had resisted and repelled the gentle sister. Only the constraining love of the Divine Master she followed could so have triumphed.

And now, could the power which had ruled Myra bring her, a proud, passionate, headstrong girl, beneath the same influences, and produce in her the same practical results?

"It must be tried, if I am to live," thought Margaret. "I must be a Christian. What shall I do to become a Christian?"

Then she remembered the first conversation she had held on the subject of salvation, and nothing more perfectly met her sense of helpless need than the picture her mind had conceived of the bitten Israelites and the serpent of brass. From type to antitype she transferred the look of faith, and beheld "the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world." Within that ample proclamation she felt the hand of mercy leading, and from the border of the eternal world the poor stricken one came back to life, "a new creature," humbled, gentle, self-renouncing; long, indeed, fluttering over her place of rest, afraid to set foot firmly on the "'sure' foundation," but teachable, hopeful, her choice made, her resolution taken. If the Lord Jesus would be her Saviour, she would be His servant.

Margaret's dread of the impending trial of the poor culprit taxed her returning strength of body, and very pitiable it was to see the struggle for patience and submission; the pale, wan face and tearful eyes trying to bring up a smile of grateful appreciation of the tender care that watched over her.

At last, the day came, and Leonard Haynes stood at the bar, charged with theft. Among the witnesses against him appeared Mrs. Dinah Jonson, very unwillingly compelled to testify to the payment of certain sums to her absent husband, with which he was to secure for the youth a passage, and kind treatment, and nautical instruction during a voyage nearly round the world, which money, Mrs. Dinah protested, she and her said husband believed to be honestly his own.

Leonard had nothing to say, no reason to give for his possession of so large a sum as that which he had stolen, nor would he give account of any of it. So that beyond the amounts traced, no clue could be found to the remainder; the probability being that Mr. Jonson had kindly "taken care" of it, for his use when safe in some foreign land. Perhaps Jonson himself was in his turn the dupe of others, but Leonard declined either to admit his own guilt or to publicly accuse any one.

His defiant look, however, left him when he saw Dinah, and heard her deposition, and his hopes then broke down.

The sentence of two years' imprisonment was the lightest that the circumstances admitted, but even this seemed to overwhelm him.

His uncle was present at the trial, and had any defence been honest or right, it would have been made; but there was no ground for it against evidence that spoke for itself, and only his youth saved Leonard from a heavier punishment.

When poor Margaret was made acquainted with all that could be told, she almost sank under the sad intelligence.

"Dearest Margaret," said Myra, whose sorrow was as great as hers, "you once asked me to pray about Leonard. We all did so, and we prayed that God's will should be done; for we knew not what else to ask. Now let us all unite to pray that these two years of discipline may be overruled for his good, and that he may come back to us penitent, and for ever renouncing the wretched course of covetousness and dishonesty."

"Come back to us, Myra! Surely you will not disgrace your home by allowing him ever to return to it?"

"Would you, Margaret?"

"I! Oh, but that would be different! I must share his lot, but you—"

"Whatever is then thought best for Leonard, we shall all do, dear Margaret; so we will leave it for the present. He will not want for friends and opportunities if he will only use them."

"Then we may pray without reserve for his reformation and salvation, you think, Myra?"

"Yes, because the Lord Jesus came to seek and to save the lost. He would that all should come to repentance, and is exalted a Prince and a Saviour to give it. We will ask Him to give it to Leonard, to soften and subdue his spirit, and make him a good man yet."

"Yours is a very hopeful religion, sister," said Margaret. "You never despair about anything."

"We have such great and precious promises, dear Margaret. Despair is sin in a child of God. Only think how free our access to His presence, how welcome when there, how indulged and cherished! Oh, He cannot withhold any good thing from them that ask in the dear name He loves, 'the Name that is above every name' in heaven or earth. It is only when we set up our own opinion of what is good and wise that we may well hesitate how we carry it into His presence. 'Thy will be done,' you know, is one of our Lord's merciful provisions against selfishness and mistakes. To petition for our own way might cause us to be chastened with a self-made rod, which meek and willing deference to God's better way would have spared us."

"That is just what I want, Myra,—to give up my own way; but it is so hard for me."

"Not harder than for us all, dear Margaret. We naturally love our own way, and nothing but trust in the wisdom and love of Him to whom is committed all power can bring our will into subjection to His; but even on the low ground of mere common sense, see how rational and right it is. We cannot foresee five minutes of our history; 'we know not what shall be on the morrow.' Our Father knows the end from the beginning. He has a plan, of which we are a part. It were easy for Him to drop us (as you do a crooked pin, if it does not go into your work when you want it held together, and take up another); it were easy to put a more willing one into our place. But there is happiness, honour, and blessing for us if we can be made to fit into it; and He will not let our restive ignorance deprive us of the promised portion. Oh, let us try to attain the sweet attitude of childlike trust, and say—

"'O Lord my God, do Thou Thy holy will; I will lie still. I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm, And break the charm Which lulls me, leaning on my Father's breast In perfect rest!'"

"I will try," sobbed Margaret, "but oh, Leonard, Leonard you have struck a blow that must be sore as long as my life shall last."

"I hope not, Margaret," said Myra tenderly; "it is a blow indeed, but it may be one that Leonard himself may be the instrument to heal. Had he been still a wanderer, flying from justice, I should have lived in dread of some greater crime, some intenser misery. But, taken and punished so soon, I cannot but hope that it is to save him, and to be a future safeguard; while it sheds on us by the way a chastening blessing, to humble our pride, and to turn us from the honour that cometh from man, in order that we may seek that which cometh from God only. We find in the deep humility of Christ's religion, the loftiest elevation above the opinions and littlenesses of the world that despises Him."

"Myra, I have often intended to ask you why you said that the 'religion of Jesus' brought you to us those many years ago? I never forgot it, and I wondered why you did not say 'God,' or 'the Divine Being,' or 'Christianity,' or some other of those expressions which are more frequently used."

"Because all those expressions, true and full of meaning as they are, have become so vague through misuse and abuse, that they often fail to convey the idea of a real practical power. But when the name of the Lord Jesus, the Representative to sinful man of the Divine character and will, is uttered by the lip of reverence and affection, I feel at once that it means something more, and I expect to find a heart touched by the Holy Spirit, bound by the tenderest love, and constrained by the deepest obligation. It implies something definite and trustworthy, something that cannot be exhausted in a correct creed, or any inoperative sentiment. I believe my object was to invite your confidence, and make you feel that I had come not to profess, but to act."

"And instead of that, it awakened enmity and suspicion."

"Only for a little while; that is all over now, you know. Yet I am tempted to ask, if you can tell me, suspicion of what?"

"Ah, I was just thinking, suspicion of what? And I do believe it was the very same feeling as the enemies of the Lord Jesus had when they cavilled at and questioned all He said. They were afraid He wanted them to be good, and they didn't want to be good; they thought themselves good enough. It is just the same in Margaret Haynes and a Jewish Pharisee."

"Yes, dear Margaret; the name of Jesus brings God, the Holy One, closer to us. Men can talk and write about 'the Divine Being,' 'the Deity,' 'the Great Creator,' and feel nothing anxious or disturbing; He is some 'unknown God' whom they are content to admire at a distance. But when 'God was manifest in the flesh,' when 'God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto Himself,' when One who 'was with God and was God' 'was made flesh, and dwelt among us,' there came unavoidable contact, an irresistible claim to attention, and men could no longer hide from themselves that the opposition to truth and goodness was in their own hearts, and that if they were not made happy and holy, and at one with God, the fault was entirely and for ever their own.

"Many kind, pleasant people will talk with you of 'divine goodness,' and 'a gracious Providence,' and a 'bountiful Creator,' and conversation flows calmly; but speak of Jesus and His love, the cleansing power of His 'precious blood,' the peace-giving consciousness of His pardon and His presence, the joy of His service, and hope of His glory, then what a chill, what a check! Often a dead silence, and the courtesy of society will scarcely hide the sneer or the alarm at your fanaticism, or the pity that anything should be pushed to such an extreme."

"I have seen it," said Margaret; "and I have noticed that the shock has survived the occasion, and kept the sensitive individuals from venturing near the electric wire again. And yet it is Jesus the Saviour, 'the Son of the Highest,' 'the brightness of God's glory,' and 'the express image of His person,' who is the centre and substance of all true religion. How can any one suppose himself the friend of God who does not know, and love, and honour the Son of God?"

"Is it not remarkable, too," said Myra, delighted at the animated interest with which Margaret spoke, "that the Lord Jesus, in vindicating His authority to the people who were rejecting Him, said that—

"'...all should honour the Son, even as they honour the Father. He that honoureth not the Son honoureth not the Father which hath sent Him.'

"'If God were your Father, ye would love Me.'

"To His own disciple He said,—

"'He that hath seen Me hath seen the Father.'

"John the Baptist said,—

"'He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life; and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him."

"The Apostle John wrote,—

"'Whosoever denieth the Son, the same hath not the Father;' and 'he that abideth in the doctrine of Christ, he hath both the Father and the Son.'

"Surely we need nothing more to show that 'the Son,' 'Jesus Christ,' is the spirit and substance, the 'God manifest' of salvation!

"Yet we have more still. See how His immediate followers acted. At Pentecost, Peter and John preached 'Jesus of Nazareth,' baptized in 'the name of Jesus Christ,' healed the sick 'by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth;' Philip preached 'Jesus;' Paul declared that he would 'know nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified.' He tells us to 'run with patience the race set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.'

"And our Lord Jesus Himself, when promising 'a Comforter' to His troubled apostles, described His special mission to be testifying of Him, guiding them into all truth:

"'He shall take of Mine, and shall show it unto you.'"

"It is a wonderful mystery," said Margaret thoughtfully.

"So said Paul, to whom was committed especially the happy work of making known to the Gentiles their share in its glorious purpose. But though beyond human reason to explain, it is not opposed to human reason to accept. A God whom we could perfectly know and understand would soon cease to be the object of our adoration. Even the holy angels are not able to comprehend all He does; for we are told that they desire 'to look into' the things concerning Christ; and as the purposes of love to sinners are unfolded in His dealings with His Church, they find fresh cause to admire and praise His 'manifold wisdom.'"

Day by day Margaret's interest grew in the truth, and only in her Bible could she find any comfort for the sorrow which had fallen upon her.

Myra and Florence had no other source of comfort either, excepting that they did not share in her bitter remorse. They had lovingly sought to win Leonard to obedience and goodness, and endeavoured to shield him from evil, but he had evaded and deceived them. Keenly they felt the shame and sorrow of his conduct, and a pang of anguish that no words could express accompanied every thought of his present degraded condition; but having "fellowship with God and with His Son," they were growing into higher sympathy with His views of events and things, and becoming less sensitively tenacious of the world's thoughts and opinions.

No friend forsook them for their wretched brother's sake, but Christian love and sympathy gathered more tenderly round them in their affliction.

As soon as Margaret's strength was sufficiently restored, they went abroad, and once more the faded cheeks regained their bloom and the saddened spirits their elasticity, and Margaret seized every opportunity of improvement, mastered every study she commenced, and seemed to have set before herself some purpose in life which should, by God's help and blessing, prove that it had not been spared for nought.