I.
Gunga Ram, Ya’kub, and Isa Das were three poor ryots[11] who lived by their daily toil, and earned scarcely more than enough to supply their families with the bare necessaries of life. These men were neighbours and friends; they had heard at the same time the gospel preached by the good Pastor Ghopal; on the same day they had received baptism from his hand, and professed their faith in Christ as the Lord. Wherever one of these ryots was seen, it was certain that the other two would not be far distant. And yet, though the three were all Christians in name, toiled in the same field, and led the same kind of life, He who readeth the heart saw as much difference between them as between the diamond which shines in a rajah’s diadem and the pebble which the coolie tramples under foot.
One morning Gunga Ram, Ya’kub, and Isa Das, on their way to the rice-field, passed close to the spot on which their pastor, Ghopal, by the aid of the Sahib Log, had been building a church. Money had come from praying people in England, and brick by brick the church had risen, until only the roof was wanting. Then there came heavy rains, and the river swelled and rose, and overflowed its banks. The storm beat against the unfinished building, and the labour of months was swept away in a day. The rain ceased, the river flowed again in its usual channel; but where a goodly church had been rising, alas, there were now but ruins!
Gunga Ram, Ya’kub, and Isa Das stood gazing upon these ruins, sorrowful to see the destruction wrought by the flood.
“The heart of the Padre Ghopal will be exceeding sad,” said Isa Das. “It was his joy day by day to see his church rising, and to think of the time when he should gather in it his people, as a shepherd gathers his flock.”
“He will build up the church again, and build it more strongly,” said Ya’kub.
“Alas! my friend, where shall the money come from?” cried Isa Das. “I heard Padre Ghopal say but yesterday, with tears in his eyes, that he fears that he can get no more rupees from England. The Collector Sahib, who gave thirty gold mohurs, has gone from the station; and Manton Sahib, who fills his place, has refused to give even a pice.”[12]
“Manton Sahib is very stingy!” cried Ya’kub. “He has a grand bungalow, fine carriages and horses, and feasts like a prince; he could give many gold mohurs and not miss them. Why does he not help to build up our church?”
“Manton Sahib told Padre Ghopal that the people should build one for themselves,” Isa Das made reply.
Then his two companions shook their heads, and said bitter things against the Sahib who cared not to help in such a good work.
“How can we who are so poor build a church?” exclaimed Ya’kub. “We live in small huts, and seldom eat anything better than rice and fruit. I have really not enjoyed one good satisfying meal since the marriage of my younger brother, two years ago.” Ya’kub sighed at the remembrance of that great feast—the rich dishes, the pastry, and the sweetmeats; for a feast was to Ya’kub the greatest of joys, and he knew not when he should taste such another again.
“If I were a rich baboo,” said Gunga Ram, “I would give a thousand rupees to Pastor Ghopal for his church.”
“If I were a great rajah,” cried Ya’kub, “I would build a church all by myself, and make it as grand as the Taj!”[13]
“I shall never be either baboo or rajah,” said Isa Das thoughtfully; “but though I am only a poor ryot, I should like to put one brick in that church;” and he looked, as he spoke, at the ruins.
“What is thy meaning?” asked his companions.
“O my brothers,” replied Isa Das, “did not the Pastor Ghopal preach yesterday on the words of the Lord Jesus: It is more blessed to give than to receive (Acts xx. 35). When I heard him I said in my heart, ‘Is that blessing kept for the rich; shall not the poor give something also?’”
“They cannot give,” cried Gunga Ram, to whom his pice were dear as the drops of blood in his veins.
But Isa Das did not appear persuaded of the truth of these words. “Do you not remember,” said he, “how, when the Lord Christ stood in the Temple, and saw rich men casting into the treasury of God much gold and much silver, and then a poor widow casting in two mites, He said to His disciples, ‘This poor widow hath cast in more than they all’ (Luke xxi. 3). The Lord accepted the offering of her who had little to give, but gave from the heart. I should like to put one brick in that church!”
And before Isa Das left the spot with his two companions, his wish had formed itself into a silent prayer. “O Lord, Thou hast said it is more blessed to give than to receive; help me to win that blessing. Thou dost love the offering of the poor; show me the way to offer something to Thee!”