But the prayer of most of us must be, "Lord, we believe—help thou our unbelief!" These are to me the most significant words of Holy Writ. I will to believe; O, guide, support, strengthen, and soothe me to do so! Lord, grant me to believe firmly, and to act nobly. Let me not be tempted to waste my time, and weaken my powers, by attempts to soar on feeble pinions "where angels bashful look." In faith let me interpret the universe!
Meditation Second.
"Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?"—Job iii. 23.
This pathetic inquiry rises from all parts of the globe, from millions of human souls, to that heaven from whence the light proceeds. From the young, full of eager aspirations after virtue and glory; with the glance of the falcon to descry the high-placed aim,—but ah! the wing of the wren to reach it! The young enthusiast must often weep. His heart glows, his eye sparkles as he reads of the youthful triumphs of a Pompey, the sublime devotion of an Agis;[34] he shuts the book, he looks around him for a theatre whereon to do likewise—petty pursuits, mean feelings, and trifling pleasures meet his eye; the cold breeze of selfishness has nipped every flower; the dull glow of prosaic life overpowers the beauties of the landscape. He plunges into the unloved pursuit, or some despised amusement, to soothe that day's impatience, and wakes on the morrow, crying, "I have lost a day; and where, where shall I now turn my steps to find the destined path?" The gilded image of some petty victory holds forth a talisman which seems to promise him sure tokens. He rushes forward; the swords of foes and rivals bar the way; the ground trembles and gives way beneath his feet; rapid streams, unseen at a distance, roll between him and the object of his pursuit; faint, giddy and exhausted by the loss of his best blood, he reaches the goal, seizes the talisman; his eyes devour the inscription—alas! the characters are unknown to him. He looks back for some friend who might aid him,—his friends are whelmed beneath the torrent, or have turned back disheartened. He must struggle onward alone and ignorant as before; yet in his wishes there is light.
Another is attracted by a lovely phantom; with airy step she precedes him, holding, as he thinks, in her upward-pointing hand the faithful needle which might point him to the pole-star of his wishes. Unwearied he follows, imploring her in most moving terms to pause but a moment and let him take her hand. Heedless she flits onward to some hopeless desert, where she pauses only to turn to her unfortunate captive the malicious face of a very Morgana.
The old,—O their sighs are deeper still! They have wandered far, toiled much; the true light is now shown them. Ah, why was it reflected so falsely through "life's many-colored dome of painted glass" upon their youthful, anxious gaze? And now the path they came by is hedged in by new circumstances against the feet of others, and its devious course vainly mapped in their memories; should the light of their example lead others into the same track, these unlucky followers will vainly seek an issue. They attempt to unroll their charts for the use of their children, and their children's children. They feed the dark lantern of wisdom with the oil of experience, and hold it aloft over the declivity up which these youth are blundering, in vain; some fall, misled by the flickering light; others seek by-paths, along which they hope to be guided by suns or moons of their own. All meet at last, only to bemoan or sneer together. How many strive with feverish zeal to paint on the clouds of outward life the hues of their own souls; what do not these suffer? What baffling,—what change in the atmosphere on which they depend,—yet not in vain! Something they realize, something they grasp, something (O, how unlike the theme of their hope!) they have created. A transient glow, a deceitful thrill,—these be the blisses of mortals. Yet have these given birth to noble deeds, and thoughts worthy to be recorded by the pens of angels on the tablets of immortality.
And this, O man! is thy only solace in those paroxysms of despair which must result to the yet eager heart from the vast disproportion between our perceptions and our exhibition of those perceptions. Seize on all the twigs that may help thee in thine ascent, though the thorns upon them rend thee. Toil ceaselessly towards the Source of light, and remember that he who thus eloquently lamented found that, although far worse than his dark presentiments had pictured came upon him, though vainly he feared and trembled, and there was no safety for him, yet his sighings came before his meat, and, happy in their recollection, he found at last that danger and imprisonment are but for a season, and that God is good, as he is great.
APPEAL FOR AN ASYLUM FOR DISCHARGED FEMALE CONVICTS.
THE ladies of the Prison Association have been from time to time engaged in the endeavor to procure funds for establishing this asylum.[35] They have met, thus far, with little success; but touched by the position of several women, who, on receiving their discharge, were anxiously waiting in hope there would be means provided to save them from return to their former suffering and polluted life, they have taken a house, and begun their good work, in faith that Heaven must take heed that such an enterprise may not fail, and touch the hearts of men to aid it.
They have taken a house, and secured the superintendence of an excellent matron. There are already six women under her care. But this house is unprovided with furniture, or the means of securing food for body and mind to these unfortunates, during the brief novitiate which gives them so much to learn and unlearn.