"Yes, the Lord has a few in this modern Sardis who have escaped the general pollution, and are walking worthy their high vocation. We meet once in the week for prayer and conversation, and are often favoured with times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord."
"Have you ever had any conversation with a pious shepherd, who feeds his flock in your beautiful vale?"
"O yes, he is often our chaplain. The word of Christ dwells in him richly. He has an excellent gift in prayer, and is an Israelite indeed; a beautiful specimen of the new-creating power of the Almighty."
"But do you never wish to reside in a town, where you could enjoy an extensive intercourse with the religious world?"
"O no; I have lived long enough to know that a few select friends, whose minds are uncontaminated by the censorious spirit of the age, are a richer treasure than a promiscuous throng, enslaved and governed by sectarian prejudices."
The room in which we were conversing was neatly furnished; a few pictures decorated one of the side walls, and a small library was placed in the centre of the opposite. I found among the books a copy of Robinson's Village Sermons, and on taking it from the shelf, I observed, "Robinson was an extraordinary man, but the eventide of his life was comparative darkness."
"Yes, it was; but the productions of his pen have often yielded me pure mental enjoyment; and, if you will permit me, I will show you a passage in one of his sermons, which I never read without bearing a personal testimony to its accuracy:—'Is it a benefit to understand the spirit and see the beauty of the Holy Scriptures? Afflictions teach Christians the worth of their Bibles, and so wrap up their hearts in the oracles of God. The Bible is but an insipid book to us before afflictions bring us to feel the want of it, and then how many comfortable passages do we find which lay neglected and unknown before! I recollect an instance in a history of some who fled from persecution in this country to that then wild desert, America. Among many other hardships, they were sometimes in such straits for bread, that the very crusts of their former tables in England would have been a dainty to them. Necessity drove the women and children to the sea-side to look for a ship expected to bring them provisions; but no ship for many weeks appeared; however, they saw in the sands vast quantities of shell-fish, since called clams, a sort of mussels. Hunger impelled them to taste, and at length they fed almost wholly on them, and to their own astonishment were as cheerful, fat, and lusty as they had been in England with their fill of the best provisions. A worthy man one day, after they had all dined on clams without bread, returned God thanks for causing them to suck of the abundance of the seas, and of treasures hid in the sand—a passage in the 33d chapter of Deuteronomy, a part of the blessing with which Moses blessed the tribe of Zebulun before his death; a passage till then unobserved by the company, but which ever after endeared the writings of Moses to them."
Just as she finished reading, a farmer-looking man came to the door with a letter, which Mrs. Lewellin took and opened with eagerness. She wept as she read, and involuntarily exclaimed—"O George! my son, my son!" Unwilling to withhold consolation from one who had passed through such fiery trials, I asked her if she had received any intelligence of a very painful nature.
"Yes," she said, while endeavouring to suppress the rising grief of her heart, "I have a letter from my dear boy, who has resided in London for the last two years. He is very ill. O Sir! if——." A long silence ensued, which was interrupted only by the expressions of strong maternal grief. "If he had felt the power of divine grace changing his heart——." She wept again. "But I fear he has been drawn away from religion by evil companions. Oh! if he were to die, where could I ever find rest? This is a trial which pierces my heart."
"I am not surprised to witness such excessive grief; but may not this affliction be sent to elicit the meaning of some obscure passage of the Sacred Volume? Unto the upright there ariseth light in the darkness; that is, deliverance comes when most needed, but as often when least expected. The set time for your son's conversion may be nigh at hand; and He who worketh all things after the counsel of His own will may now be making the necessary preparations for this great event; so that your mourning may very soon be turned into rejoicing."