"You? Oh, Mr. Shenstone! You know to whom it is I owe it that I have conquered depression and sadness. You have done everything for me; may I do nothing for you? It is little enough, surely, but it is my greatest pleasure."
"If it is—then go," he said, with a sad smile on his wan, furrowed face. "Go and fulfill the duties that God has taken out of my hands, and I will try to be patient and stay at home in idleness. I will try to remember,
'They also serve who only stand and wait.'
But God knows, it is the hardest kind of service!"
Every day lately had been adding to his languor; I watched with anxious foreboding his slow step and altered tone. It was the twenty-fourth of December, and I knew that the contrast of his present inactivity at this holy season, to former diligence, must be a keen trial to him with his stern rules of duty. I left the house with a sigh, and went out into the clear, still air of the winter afternoon, with the energy of youth and earnestness in my veins, and thought, wonderingly, of the different grades of trials, the "anguish of all sizes" that God's elect must pass through,
"Till every pulse beat true to airs divine."
It must be hard, indeed, to "stand and wait," to feel that energy and strength are going before life goes, and that there is nothing left to do, only to endure. Such a trial, it seemed to me, would be the worst of all: as long as there is work there is a panacea, but take away that, and the burden grows intolerable. God spare me that! And I hurried on through my many duties with double thankfulness that they were so many.
The short winter afternoon was all too short for them—it was almost sundown when I started to cross the common on my return from a distant cottage. There was but one thing more to do to-night; the school-children were waiting for me to go into the church and practice their Christmas-hymn with them, and it was late already, so I quickened my pace. I found my young pupils waiting for me around the gate of the churchyard; they hailed me with acclamations, and clustering round my skirts, followed me into the church. They were too well taught to continue their chattering there, even if they had been unrestrained by my presence, but I could not but believe the scene must have struck them with some reverence, thoughtless and trifling though too many of them were. The lowering sun streamed in through the stained glass of the western windows, and lit up gorgeously the sombre church, illuminating the joyful Christmas words above the altar, touching cross and star and tablet with soft light, and laying rich and warm upon the glossy wreaths that were twined round font and chancel, desk and pillar. Coming from the cold air and wintry landscape, into such a mellow, warm, green sanctuary, where there seemed no winter and no chill, I could understand the feeling that checked the children's mirth so suddenly, and made them look wistfully and silently around; and when their sweet, young voices followed mine in the Christmas-hymn, and when the organ yielded its full tones to my touch, arch and rafter, pavement and aisle seemed to stretch away into infinity; the light that filled the church was the glory of heaven; the sweet music, the voices of the angels; and time and earth seemed to fade and recede, and floating down that path of glory, I could almost have touched the open gates of heaven—almost have mingled in the white-robed throng within. The chains of sin and sense fall off—the sounds of warfare die away—the terrors of the conflict with the hosts of hell are all forgotten; if one's soul could follow in the wake of one's longing at such a moment as this, death would indeed be conquered—the king of terrors be cheated of his prey.
The glory had faded from the west, and dullness and gloom had crept into the church before the young choir dispersed. It seemed as if the very spirit of music had possessed the children; hymn after hymn, anthem and carol, and never tired or flagging. As at last I rose to go, and bent forward to shut the organ, one of them whispered eagerly:
"There's somebody been below there in the church! I hear steps going down the aisle; and hark! The door just opened and shut again."