THE BLIND WIDOW.
"Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days."—Ecclesiastes xi. 1.
Recollecting the feelings of discouragement and sadness which often oppressed my mind during the first months of our employment as district visitors and Sunday School teachers in a retired village, and the many instances affording cause for joy and thankfulness which occurred during the latter years of our residence there, I am led to record one of them, with the hope of encouraging my fellow-labourers in this interesting occupation.
One of the first cases which came under my own observation was that of a blind, aged widow, who lived a few steps from the church. Her husband, who had been dead at this time about seven years, had led an ungodly life, and had fallen a victim to the habit of intemperance. She was left with one son, who was a lad at the time of his father's death, and was soon after bound as a parish apprentice to a good neighbour, a blacksmith, with whom he afterwards lived as servant. I think he was a good boy. He had remembered and taken pleasure in what he had learned at the Sunday and National School. He was constant in his attendance at public worship, and showed much dutiful affection and attention to his widowed mother. In his spare hours he took care of her little garden, drew water, and tended the nursery of beautiful geraniums which adorned her windows; and when he could, he would come and read aloud to her on Sundays out of the Bible or some good book. All the poor widow's happiness centred in Henry. It was her delight to do all she could for him; and many a time have I seen her, blind as she was, bestowing her cheerful labour in making his shirts as white as snow. She had one other son, older than Henry, who had accompanied an uncle to the West Indies, and as she had never heard of them since, she thought they had very likely both of them died in that climate, so unhealthy to English constitutions.
Mrs. Worthington was, I think, naturally an amiable woman. Many sorrows had subdued and broken her spirits, for she had once lived near London in very good circumstances. Though in some degree acquainted with the leading doctrines of Scripture, and believing them to be true, she was, it seemed, quite destitute of any hope towards God, or true faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, as her Saviour and her Friend. To use her own words, "she had long ago given up herself for lost." When I asked what led her to do so, she replied that she knew she had not led a good life, and that some neighbours had told her it was no use for such a person as she was to think of going to heaven. In this sad state she was lingering on in a painful earthly existence, without one hope of anything better beyond it.
There was a kind woman who lived in the next house who, when able, would lead her to church and back again. There she paid attention, and thus had many interesting Scripture histories stored in her memory, for she had never learned to read.
At length, with her own consent, it was agreed that some one should read the Bible to her every forenoon. She listened with earnest attention and much interest, and at length found, to her great joy, that she was not excluded from hope in the mercy of that gracious God and Saviour whose loving-kindness and tender mercy towards a lost and fallen race it reveals and declares. She discovered with delight that she was one of those very characters that had moved His heart to pity, and for whose redemption and happiness He had sent His only-begotten Son into the world, and spared Him not, "but delivered Him up for us all," that He might make satisfaction for fallen sinners, and lead such back as reconciled children to their Father and God. She received the gracious message with a sense of her own extreme need of its blessings, and welcomed it with her whole heart, as sent to her by the God of love.
I think the first word of promise which was fixed in her mind was the engagement which God makes, in Luke xi., to give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him. She felt that her mind was dark, and her heart cold and dead towards God. She wished it were otherwise, and prayed for the Holy Spirit. It was delightful to observe the heavenly light dawn in her once benighted soul, and to behold the altered state of all within. Humility, thankfulness, hope, and love all appeared in their loveliness, and in various ways did she give incontestable evidence that old things had passed away, and that all things had become new.
I remember calling one morning, and finding her much out of spirits. On inquiring the cause, I found that, it being the wake season, some of her former friends and acquaintances had visited her. It was their conversation which had grieved her, consisting very much of scandal and detraction, and she was greatly distressed at being obliged to hear it, and felt that she had done wrong by listening to it, so truly had her mind become conformed to the principles of the Gospel of peace.
Before her change of heart she was much disposed to murmur, but when enabled to apprehend the love of God to her, her spirit was filled with gratitude to Him for all His undeserved mercies; and however depressed her circumstances on earth might be, she had the comfortable hope of eternal bliss in that world where all tears will be for ever wiped away, and there will be no more want and pain, for "the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters" (Rev. vii. 17).
One morning, to my great sorrow, I found her very ill. She was suffering from an attack of paralysis, which took away the use of her left side, and very much affected her speech. She was suddenly rendered almost helpless. At first she was greatly distressed, knowing that her own means were insufficient to pay any one to help her, and that the only alternative was a removal to the workhouse, a prospect which to her mind was full of terror and disgrace. It became, however, quite needful, for there was no prospect of amendment; and in about a fortnight she was obliged to quit a home endeared to her by a long residence, and the honourable independence with which she had occupied it, for though often obliged to take only bread for her breakfast and supper, she invariably paid her quarter's rent. Her faith in Christ, however, soon gained the ascendancy over her natural regret and sorrow, and she received this painful dispensation as her Heavenly Father's will, and submitted to it with quietness.
The workhouse was about nine miles from our village. It was a well-conducted one, and favoured with the visits of some Christian friends and a good clergyman. The matron was a kind person, and treated our blind friend with much consideration. Her son visited her as often as he could, and paid her every dutiful attention, so that her home there was, I think, more comfortable than the one she had left. I never saw her afterwards, but I occasionally heard of her. She was almost entirely confined to her bed, but quite able to enjoy and profit by the kind visits and Christian conversation of some persons who visited the workhouse. She found her God was present with her there, and He fulfilled to her that beautiful promise made to His people of old—"Even to your old age I am He; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you; I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you" (Isa. xlvi. 4).
A. E. H.