Of no account

by Ruth Lamb

The manager was too busy a man to be able to spare much time, but he did spare a few minutes now and then to say an encouraging word, whilst the mere sight of his kind true face cheered Adam on the new way upon which he had started.

The striker had something to bear, when at the works, from the jeers of a few of his companions. One who had only just escaped dismissal for drunkenness flouted Adam with "canting, just to please the new man, and to get his wages raised."

But though the striker was slow to defend himself, there were others who spoke on his behalf.

"It'll be well if you don't ha' to go without any wages before long, Sam," said Richard Evans. "Nay, I'm forgetting. There's one sort of pay that you're always working hard for. Did you ever hear those words, 'the wages of sin is death'?"

"I reckon you mean to live for ever, then," returned Sam with a sneer. "You talk about it, but I don't see as you can carry out that notion—you canting folks—any more than the rest of us. You have to be put to bed with a spade when your time comes, for all your cant;" and Sam looked round with a smile of triumph, as if expecting to be applauded.

But even amongst the careless and indifferent about religion, there are not so many who like to ridicule it openly, or to range themselves on the side of those who do. Sam's words did not produce the effect he intended, for some looked pityingly, others with contempt on the miserable man who had been allowed to return to his work, out of pity for his half-starved wife and children.

So the feeling was all on the side of Richard Evans, as he answered, "I know that as well as you do, Sam, for the same Book that says, 'the wages of sin is death,' tells that 'one event happeneth to them all.' The wise man and the fool have to come to their six feet of earth at last. But it's no use coming to it before one's time, for God gives us our bodies to take care of, as well as our souls, and we've got to account for both. It isn't in the dying that finishes these few years of life that there is so much difference, though there are death-beds that are dark and terrible to stand by, and others that are so full of light and glory that they seem to give us a peep at heaven.

"But it's what comes after. There's eternal life, the free gift of God, to those that have sought and found a Saviour in Jesus. Without Him what is there? 'After death the judgment,' when God 'will render to every man according to his deeds.' You can't get over this, Sam, say what you will, and I can tell you, for I've seen that the greatest cowards, when Death stares them in the face, are those who have pretended to be so bold, and have laughed and made game when they thought him a long way off."

Richard Evans resumed his work, and Sam slunk away, muttering something which no one heard or heeded, whilst those around, whether they realized the truth of what they had listened to or not, honoured this servant of Christ, who was ever bold on the side of his Heavenly Master.

How Adam Livesey wished that he could find words to speak as his friend did! But he thought to himself, "I never could talk much about the things I understood best. Still, I feel that I am under a new Master, that He loves me, and I do so want to love Him. As to wages! Why, I'm getting better pay every day, for I never was so happy in my life as I am now. I only want Margaret back, and to feel as I do, then—"