Part 3 (1/2)

With that he too pa.s.sed out of the shade and darkness into the joyful suns.h.i.+ne. And oh, it was indeed a happy time! It made my heart bound when I saw his face, which had so often turned pale and drooped with terror, now lighted up with the glow of the heavenly light; when, instead of the evil things which his fears had summoned up, I saw around him the bands of holy ones, and the children of the day: and so they pa.s.sed along. And soon, I thought, he would see again the hand which had been stretched out to save him on the bank, and hear the kind and merciful voice which had soothed his terror and despair, and live in the present suns.h.i.+ne of that gracious countenance.

And now methought I heard an earnest and sorrowful voice, as of one crying aloud for help; so I turned me round to see where he was that uttered it, and by the side of the King's path I could see one striving to mount the bank, and slipping back again as often as he tried. He was trying in right earnest: his cries were piteous to hear, and he laboured as if he would carry his point by storm. But it was all in vain; the more he struggled, the worse his case grew; for the bank, and all the path up to it, got so quagged and miry with his eager striving, that he seemed farther and farther from getting safely up. At last, as he was once more struggling violently up, his feet quite slipped from under him, and he fell upon his side: and so he lay sobbing and struggling for breath, but still crying out to the King, who had helped him before, and delivered him from the flames of the pit, to help him once more, and lift him again into the right way. My heart pitied the poor boy, and I looked more closely into his face, and saw that it was Irrgeist--not Irrgeist as he had been when he had walked at first with Gottlieb along the road, or as he had been when he had first followed the deceitful phantom ”Pleasure” out of it,--but Irrgeist still, though brought by his wanderings and his trouble to paleness, and weariness, and sorrow. Now, whilst I was looking at him, as he lay in this misery, and longing for some helper to come to him, lo, his cries stopped for a moment, and I saw that it was because One stood by him and spoke to him. Then I could see under the mantle, which almost hid Him, that it was the same form which had visited Furchtsam, and delivered him when he had cried. Now, too, I saw the hand held out, and I saw Irrgeist seize it; and it raised him up, and he stood upon his feet: and the staff was given to him,--exceeding rough, but needful and trusty; and his lamp shone out, and the book of light was his; and his feet were again in the road.

But I marked well that Irrgeist trod it not as the others had done. Truly did he go along it weeping. Whether it was that the thought of what he had gone through amongst the pitfalls dwelt ever on his mind; or whether it were shame of having wandered, I know not,--but his road seemed evermore one of toil and sorrow. Still, in the midst of tears, a song was often put into his mouth, and his tongue was ever speaking of the great kindness of Him who had restored the wanderer: his head, too, was so bowed down, that he marked every stone upon the road, and therefore never stumbled; but still his speed was little, and his troubles were many. When he got to the dark part, he had a sore trial: his feet seemed too weak and trembling to bear him; and more than once I heard him cry out, as if he thought that he were again between the pitfalls, and the fire were ready to break out upon him. But then did it seem as if there were some sweet hopes given him, and his face brightened up; and in a faint, feeble voice, he would break out again into his song and thanksgiving. As he drew towards the end, things somewhat mended with him; and when he was just upon the sunlight, and began to see its brightness through the haze, and to hear the voices of the heavenly ones, methought his heart would have burst, so did it beat with joy: and withal he smote upon his breast, and said,--”And this for me! And this for the wanderer! O mercy, choicest mercy! Who is a G.o.d like unto Thee, that pardonest iniquity?” And so saying, he entered on the heavenly light, and left for ever behind him the darkness and the danger of the pitfalls, and the face of shame, and the besetting weakness; for he too was clothed in raiment of light, and borne with joy before the Lord the King.

_Father_. Who were those who were walking in the beautiful garden as its lords?

_Child_. Man in Paradise before the fall.

F. What was the dreadful change that came upon them?

C. Their fall into sin and misery.

F. What was the second estate seen in the vision?

C. Their fallen children in this sinful world, without the knowledge of G.o.d; wandering in the darkness of heathenism amongst the pitfalls of error.

F. What was the porch which let them into a better way?

C. The entrance into the Church of the redeemed by baptism.

F. What does our Catechism say about this?

C. That it is our being ”called to a state of salvation.”

F. What are the gifts bestowed upon them?

C. G.o.d's word is the book of light; conscience enlightened by G.o.d is the little lamp of each; the oil in the golden vial is the help and teaching of G.o.d's grace; and the staff is the help and a.s.sistance of the Church.

F. Why was it so easy to get out of the path, and so hard to get back?

C. Because it is easy to go wrong, and very hard to return into the way of righteousness.

F. What were the baits which the phantom offered to the youths?

C. The pleasures of sin, which are but for a season.

F. Why was the staff rough to those that were coming back from wandering?

C. Because the discipline of the Church, which is easy to the obedient, is often galling to those who offend.

F. Why was Irrgeist, after he was brought back, still so sad a pilgrim?

C. Because, though he was accepted and forgiven, the effects of his former sins still weakened and grieved him: as says the Lord, by the mouth of the Prophet Ezekiel (chap. xvi. ver. 63), ”That thou mayest remember, and be confounded, and never open thy mouth any more because of thy shame, when I am pacified toward thee for all that thou hast done, saith the Lord G.o.d.”

The Little Wanderers.

In a miserable little hovel, built on the edge of a wide and desolate common, lived a poor widow woman, who had two sons. The eldest of them was quite young, and the least was scarcely more than an infant. They were dressed in torn and dirty rags, for the widow had no better clothes to put upon them; and often they were very hungry and very cold, for she had not food or fire with which to feed and warm them. No one taught the biggest boy any thing; and as for the poor mother, she did not know a letter. She had no friends; and the only playfellows the little ones ever knew were other children as poor, and as dirty, and as untaught as they were themselves, from whom they learnt nothing but to say bad words and do naughty tricks. Poor children! it was a sad life, you would say, which lay before them.