Was I right?

by Mrs. O. F. Walton

It was quite touching to see the welcome which the three kind sisters gave me. If I had been their own child, they could not have seemed more glad to see me. Miss Jane, especially, took me under her wing from the moment that I entered the house, and it would indeed have been my own fault if I had not spent a pleasant Christmas time at Branston Hall.

But what I enjoyed, perhaps, more than anything else, was hearing Mr. Claremont's sermons. There was something in his plain, practical way of preaching, which went direct to my heart, and I always came away from hearing one of his sermons feeling thoroughly dissatisfied with myself, which perhaps, after all, is the best proof how very useful they were to me.

On the last Sunday of the year, especially, I felt that indeed there was a message for me. In both his sermons that day Mr. Claremont spoke of the year that was past, gone for ever, with all its shortcomings and sins, all its neglected opportunities, all its wasted moments. In the evening his sermon was addressed more especially to the unsaved in the congregation, urging such not to let the last moments of the old year pass away until they had been to the fountain, Christ Jesus, the fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness, and had washed their sin-stained souls till they were whiter than snow.

But in the morning Mr. Claremont spoke to Christians, to God's own children. He spoke of the sins of which we Christians had been guilty during the past year, and above all of our sins of omission. He told us that God had given to each of us a special work to do for Him, and that if we did not do it, the work would be left undone. And then he asked us whether all those who lived in the house with us were amongst the saved. Were there any, was there one, with whom we spoke day by day, and whom we loved perhaps very much, and yet whom we knew to be still outside the refuge, still unsaved?

And then Mr. Claremont pleaded with us, if this was the case, to give ourselves no rest until that one was safe in Christ, but to speak to him about his soul, and, whenever we had an opportunity, to plead with him, and to urge him to come to Jesus before it was too late.

"Another year gone, just gone, and your loved ones still unsaved. Oh, what if this new year should be their last! What if next New Year's Day, the opportunity should be over, and they should be gone! Children of God, up and be doing, let not their blood be on your heads. Oh, if they should come up to you at the last day, and say, with bitter reproaches, 'Why did you not warn us? If you really believed, knew that this was before us, why did you not give yourselves no rest, day nor night, until you knew that we were saved from it? Oh, why not?' What will you say to them then? Friends, be up and doing, for the night cometh when no man can work."

As Mr. Claremont spoke, one face was ever in my mind's eye, one form was ever before me. It was Evelyn Trafford, my own dear little Evelyn, of whom I thought. I knew she was not safe. Loving and amiable and sweet tempered as she was, I know that she cared nothing for the Lord I loved. She had been brought up entirely for this world, and she had never been taught to think of things above.

And yet what could I do for her? I had sometimes tried to get a word in, edgewise as it were, for my Master, but it was very difficult, and it never seemed to do any good.

Sometimes I thought it did harm. If she was alone with me, she turned the subject so quickly, and called me precise and particular, and did not seem so much at her ease with me afterwards. And if any one else came into the room, she would begin to talk almost scoffingly of all that I loved and reverenced, as if she were determined to show me how little she cared for it all. And so I was beginning to think that it was wiser to be quiet and to say nothing.

Yet this sermon had made me uneasy. If Evelyn, my dear Evelyn, should die unsaved, and I had never once really spoken to her about her soul's interests, oh, how I should blame myself! And yet, when could I do it? How could I begin the subject?