Part 11 (1/2)
”Alas,” said a young girl, ”she will never hear me read the Bible again, nor instruct me how to live!”
Another cried loudly, ”Who will now come to visit my sick mother, and read the Bible to her, and bring her comfort and a.s.sistance.”
And there was a father, a poor workman, with two little boys, who, holding his children by the hand, came and placed himself near the spot where the head of Amelia was laid, saying to them, ”Here, my poor children, under this sod, rests that sweet countenance which used to smile upon you, as if she had been your mother! Her lips have often told you, that you were not orphans, and that G.o.d was better to you than a parent.... Well, my dear children, let us remember what she used to say: 'G.o.d has not forgotten us, and He will sustain us!'”
I was with my brother, who himself wept with all his heart, to see the sincere grief of these poor people. He whispered to me, ”I have a great mind to speak to them, and ask them what Amelia used to do for them.” I had the same wish; so we approached a group which surrounded the grave, and asked them when they had become acquainted with Amelia.
”For my part,” answered the old man, already spoken of, ”this messenger of peace visited me two years ago, for the first time. I lived near a family to whom she had brought some worsted stockings, for winter was just setting in, and so my neighbor mentioned me to her, as a poor infirm old man. She desired to see me, and had she been my own daughter, she could never have shown me more respect and kindness! She procured me a warm quilt that same evening, and on the morrow, towards the middle of the day, she came with her excellent mother to pay me a long visit.
”You must know, sir,” continued the old man, to my brother, ”I was then very ignorant, or rather my heart was hard and proud towards G.o.d. I had no Bible, and did not care about one. Well, this dear young lady not only brought me one, with her own hands, but came to read and explain it to me, with great patience, at least three times a week, during the first twelve months.
”G.o.d took pity on me,” added the old man, in a low voice, ”and last year I began better to understand the full pardon which is in Christ Jesus, and was even able to pray with Miss Amelia.
”She used sometimes to call me, 'My old father,' but it was I who ought to have called _her_ the _mother_, the true mother of my soul.
”Just one month ago, she came to me for the last time; she gave me with a sweet smile, these worsted gloves, which she had knitted herself, and then recommended me with much respect and kindness to thank our Lord, who sent them me! This was the last of that sweet lady's charities to me!”...
Upon this, the old man turned away weeping, and as he walked slowly on, he frequently looked back upon the newly-covered grave.
”The same thing happened to me,” said the workman. ”The mother of these two little children died ten months ago; we were in want of everything, then, and I knew not even how to dress these children.
Believe me, Miss,” he added, addressing me with feeling, ”when the mother is gone, all is gone!... but our gracious G.o.d did not forsake us, for He sent us his angel; I say His angel, although she is at present much more than an angel!... Is she not indeed a child of G.o.d in heaven? ... but, in short, she clothed these two little ones, and I am sure she did not spare herself in working for them; the clothes they now wear were made chiefly by that dear young lady's hands. Then she used to come and visit us; she often made my two children go to her house, and always gave them good advice. She also sent them to school, and although it was certainly her mother who paid for them, yet it was Miss Amelia who taught them to read at home, and who, almost every Sunday, made them repeat their Bible lessons.
”Ah, Miss,” he continued, ”all that that dear young lady did for us, for our souls as well as for our bodies, will only be known in heaven, and at the last day. For my part, and I say it here over her grave, and in the presence of G.o.d, I am certain, that when the Lord Jesus shall raise us all up again, the works of Miss Amelia will follow her, and we shall then see that while upon earth she served G.o.d with all her heart.
”No,” he added, as he wiped away the tears from his children's eyes, ”I would not wish her to return from the glory which she now enjoys, at the same time I cannot conceal from you, that my heart mourns for her, and that I know we have lost our consolation, our benefactress, our faithful friend!”
”Who has not lost one?” exclaimed a poor woman, at whose side stood the little girls who had planted the flowers; ”I know very well that Miss Amelia's mother will take her place, she is so good and kind!
but it was no little joy to receive a visit from that sweet and amiable young lady, so good, so pious, and so full of joy. Oh! what should I have done with my husband, so long confined to his bed, if this messenger of goodness had not procured work for me, and recommended me to the ladies who now employ me. And then again, what were we, until Miss Amelia spoke to us? How much she had to put up with when I refused to read the Holy Scriptures! and yet she was never weary of me. Oh! no; she came day after day, to exhort and to teach me, and blessed be G.o.d, we begin now to know something of what the Saviour has done for us.
”And,” added she, drawing the little girl towards her, ”I shall go on with my dear children, reading and learning that word of G.o.d, which was Miss Amelia's greatest joy.
”Come, come, my friends,” she said, in a persuasive tone, ”_we_ must also die, and be put each in his turn, under this ground; but as our benefactress is not dead ... (no, she is not dead, for the Lord has said it!)--so also shall not we die, if we follow in her steps.”
The poor woman then wished us good day, and moved away with her children. We all walked on together, still speaking of Amelia. My brother took the names and addresses of many of the poor people, with whom he had just been conversing, and spoke a few words to them of comfort and encouragement.
As soon as we were alone, he showed me the list of names, at the head of which was that of the old man, and he said, ”Here is a blessed inheritance which Amelia has left us. She has done as Dorcas did: her hands have clothed the poor, and her lips have spoken comfort to them. Dear Anna, Amelia was not older than we are; let us remember this, for we know not when the Lord shall call us.”
How wise and pious this dear brother is! We have already been able to pay together, two of Amelia's visits. Her mother, to whom we related all we had heard, gave us further particulars of what the pious and indefatigable Amelia used to do. Ah Esther, her religion was not mere ”lip-service.” The Spirit of the Lord Jesus Christ a.s.sisted her, and she might have said with truth, I show ”my faith by my works.”
Let us take courage, then, my dear and kind sister! we lament our loss in Amelia's death, but on her own account I lament her not. I can only contemplate her in the presence of G.o.d, and of her Saviour, and I rejoice to think of her delight when she entered the region of heaven. How beautiful it must be, Esther, to behold the glory of that heaven! to hear the voices of saints and angels, and to know that G.o.d loves us, and will make us happy forever.
Think, sister, of the meaning of--_forever!_
Amelia's father, whom I saw a few hours ago with her excellent and pious mother, said to me, in speaking of their darling child, ”For my own joy and comfort I should have wished to have kept her with us; but, my dear Anna, even if I could have done so, what would have been all our happiness, compared with that which she now possesses in the presence of her G.o.d.”
But do not suppose, my sister, that Amelia, with all her piety, was less prudent with regard to the things of this world, than faithful regarding those of heaven. Her mother has shown me her books, and her different arrangements, all of which indicate that discretion spoken of in Scripture, carried out in the most minute particulars.
First, as respects order and cleanliness in everything belonging to her: it would be impossible to imagine a more proper arrangement than the one she made of each article, both in her wardrobe, her writing- table, her work-box, and her account-book.
She had not much money to devote to her works of charity, but her industry made up for her limited means; for instance, in opening the Bible which she generally made use of, I found in it, four or five pages written with a great deal of care; and her journal informed her mother, who read it, of the reason of this circ.u.mstance. It runs thus: