"That you would say to yoursel; but if a man was in trouble aboot the doctrine o' election, and s'ould ask ye to comfort him, what would ye tell him?"
"I would say, dinna meddle wi' decrees. Never gang back o' the promises. They are strang eneuch to bear us up, and sweet eneuch to comfort us; and I think a' we hae to do is to lay hand o' them as they are held oot to us. And I will tell ye, Rab, what I honestly think: mair folk catch at the question o' election as an excuse for putting off God's claims upon them, than through fear that they are not o' the elect."
CHAPTER V. A YEAR OF GLOOM.
Spring came, but Robert Murdoch was still in his chair. It was then evident that not only his feet had been injured, but that he had also contracted disease. The physician plainly told Wullie that his brother's working days were over. "It is but right to tell you," said he, "that he has consumption; and though its work may not be swift, it will be sure." Honest Wullie staggered under the weight of this sad intelligence. But he took this trouble where he had long since learned to take all others—to his Father in heaven. He also tried to appear cheerful, though his heart was very heavy.
Rab began to think that his health had been undermined, and he became very despondent. During the day he would sit many hours without speaking; but in the evening he would converse with his brother on indifferent subjects. Wullie soon perceived that he was speaking of that which was least in his thoughts. Therefore, one evening when Jeannie and the children were in another room, he endeavored to lead Rab to talk of that which more nearly concerned his true welfare.
"Hoo is it," said he, "that ye speak aboot sic things? I can see right weel that your heart is no in your talk. It would be better to lay aside sic pretences, for ye hae na deceived me frae the vera first. Ye hae a trouble that is pressing sair upon you. Will ye no tell me at ance what it is? Perhaps I might comfort you."
"Wullie," replied Rab, "ye hae had ane look into my heart, and noo I will mak it bare to you. I am thinking I will never be a sound man again. It isna my feet alane, but I hae a sair pain when I cough; and I hae nae mair strength than wee Jamie; and it is nae wonder, for I sweat sae muckle o' nights. But that is not all: the end of it will be death—death to the body at least; and wha kens but it will be death to the soul as weel! It is this that troubles me. I sit and ponder it o'er and o'er, and Jeannie thinks perhaps that I am ill-tempered; but I canna bring mysel to tell her. It would break her heart if I were to dee without hope. Puir lass! I hae never been gude eneuch for her. Many a time I hae pitied her that she wasna better mated."
Wullie was much moved. As soon as he could trust his voice he replied, "Rab, I hae seen all that ye hae tauld me, and mair than ye hae tauld me. Ye are seeking to find favor in the sight o' God; and ye are looking within yoursel to find something to recommend you to him, but ye canna find onything. Ye hae been vexing yoursel wi' a notion a'thegither wrang. Hae ye never understood that ye are to come with a' your guilt upon you, and fall doun at the feet o' sovereign Mercy, and ask God to accept you as ye are, since naething but the bluid o' the Son of God has power to cleanse you frae your sins? That is the way you are to come to God. Ye shall read it for yoursel." Handing him the Bible, he continued, "Read frae the eleventh to the twenty-fifth verse o' the fifteenth chapter o' St. Luke, and ye will see if the prodigal son did mair than just come to his faither."