Home > Authors Index > L. T. Meade > Children's Pilgrimage > This page
The Children's Pilgrimage, a fiction by L. T. Meade |
||
Part 2. "Finding The Guide" - Chapter 6. Cecile Gives Her Heart |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ SECOND PART. "FINDING THE GUIDE" CHAPTER VI. CECILE GIVES HER HEART
And Cecile listened, half glad, half sorry, but, if the truth must be known, dimly understanding. For Cecile, sweet as her nature was had slow perceptions. She was eight years old, and in her peculiar, half English, half foreign life, she had never before heard anything of true religion. All the time Mrs. Moseley was speaking, she listened with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. But when the sweet old story came to an end, Cecile burst into tears. "Oh! I'm glad and I'm sorry," she sobbed; "I wanted a real, real guide. I'm glad as the story's quite true, but I wanted someone to hold my hand, and to carry Maurice when he's ever so tired. I'm glad and sorry." "But I'm not sorry," said Maurice, who was lying full length on the hearth-rug, and listening attentively. "I'm glad, I am--and I'd like to die; I'd much rather die than go south." "Oh, Maurice!" said Cecile. "Yes, Cecile. I'd much rather die. I like what that kind woman says about heaven, and I never did want to walk all that great way. Do Jesus have little boys as small as me in heaven, Mrs. Moseley, ma'am?" "Lord bless the child. Yes, my sweet lamb. Why, there's new-born babes up there; and I had a little un, he wor a year younger nor you. But Jesus took him there; it near broke my heart, but he went there." "Then I'll go too," said Maurice. "I'll not go south; I'll go to heaven." "Bless the bonnie children both," said Mrs. Moseley softly under her breath. She laid her hand on Cecile's head, who was gazing at her little brother in a sort of wonder and consternation. Then the good woman rose to get supper. The next day ushered in the most wonderful Sunday Cecile had ever spent. In the first place, this little girl, who had been so many years of her little life in our Christian England, went to church. In her father's time, no one had ever thought of so employing part of their Sunday. The sweet bells sounded all around, but they fell on unheeding ears. Cecile's stepmother, too, was far too busy working for Lovedy to have time for God's house, and when the children went down to Warren's Grove, though Lydia Purcell regularly Sunday after Sunday put on her best bonnet, and neat black silk gown, and went book in hand into the simple village church, it had never occurred to her to take the orphan children with her. Therefore, when Mrs. Moseley said to Cecile and Maurice: "Now come and let me brush your hair, and make you tidy for church," they were both surprised and excited. Maurice fretted a little at the thought of leaving Toby behind, but, on the whole, he was satisfied with the novelty of the proceeding. The two children sat very gravely hand in hand. The music delighted them, but the rest of the service was rather above their comprehension. Cecile, however, listened hard, taking in, in her slow, grave way, here a thought and there an idea. Mrs. Moseley watched the children as much as she listened to the sermon, and as she said afterward to her husband, she felt her heart growing full of them. The rest of the Sunday passed even more delightfully in Maurice's estimation. Mrs. Moseley's pudding was pronounced quite beyond praise by the little hungry boy, and after dinner Moseley showed him pictures, while Mrs. Moseley amused Cecile with some Bible stories. But a strange experience was to come to the impressionable Cecile later in the day. Quite late, when all the light had faded, and only the lamps were lit, and Maurice was sound asleep in his little bed in Mrs. Moseley's small closet, that good woman, taking the little girl's hand, said to her: "When we go to church we go to learn about Jesus. I took you to one kind of church this morning. I saw by yer looks, my little maid, as you were trying hard to understand. Now I will take you to another kind of church. A church wot ain't to call orthodox, and wot many speaks against, and I don't say as it ha'n't its abuses. But for all that, when Molly Moseley wants to be lifted clean off her feet into heaven, she goes there; so you shall come to-night with me, Cecile." All religious teaching was new to Cecile, and she gave her hand quite willingly to her kind friend. They went down into the cold and wet winter street, and presently, after a few moments' quick walking, found themselves in an immense, square-built hall. Galleries ran round it, and these galleries were furnished with chairs and benches. The whole body of the hall was also full of seats, and from the roof hung banners, with texts of Scripture printed on them, and the motto of the Salvation Army: _"Fire and Blood."_ Cecile, living though she had done in its very midst had never heard of this great religious revival. To such as her, poor little ignorant lost lamb, it preached, but hitherto no message had reached her. She followed Mrs. Moseley, who seated herself on a bench in the front row of a gallery which was close to the platform. The space into which she and Cecile had to squeeze was very small, for the immense place was already full to overflowing. "We'll have three thousand to-night, see if we don't," said a thin-faced girl, bending over to Mrs. Moseley. "Oh, ma'am!" said another, who had a very worn, thin, but sweet face, "I've found such peace since I saw you last. I never could guess how good Jesus would be to me. Why, now as I'm converted, He never seems to leave my side for a minute. Oh! I do ache awful with this cough and pain in my chest, but I don't seem to mind it now, as Jesus is with me all day and all night." Another, nudging her, here said: "Do you know as Black Bess ha' bin converted too?" "Oh, praise the Lord!" said this girl, sinking back on her seat, being here interrupted by a most violent fit of coughing. The building filled and filled, until there was scarcely room to stand. A man passing Mrs. Moseley said: "'Tis a glorious gathering, all brought together by prayer and faith, all by prayer and faith." Mrs. Moseley took Cecile on her lap. "They'll sing in a moment, darling, and 'twill be all about your Guide, the blessed, blessed Jesus." And scarcely were the words out of her mouth, when the whole vast building rang again to the words:
Immediately afterward a man fell on his knees and prayed most earnestly for a blessing on the meeting. Then came another hymn:
There were three thousand faces, all intensely in earnest, all bearing marks of great poverty, many of great and cruel hardship --many, too, had the stamp of sin on their brows. That man looked like a drunken husband; that woman like a cruel mother. Here was a lad who made his living by stealing; here a girl, who would sink from this to worse. Not a well-dressed person in the whole place, not a soul who did not belong to the vast army of the very poor. But for all that, there was not one in this building who was not getting his heart stirred, not one who was not having the best of him awakened into at least a struggling life, and many, many poor and outcast as they were, had that indescribable look on their worn faces which only comes with "God's peace." A man got up to speak. He was pale and thin, and had long, sensitive fingers. He shut his eyes, clenched his hand, and began: "Bless thy word, Lord." This he repeated three times. The people caught it up, they shouted it through the galleries, all over the building. He waved his hand to stop them, then opening his eyes, he began: "I want to tell you about _Jesus_. Jesus is here tonight, He's down in this hall, He's walking about, He's going from one to another of you, He's knocking at your hearts. Brothers and sisters, the Lord Jesus is knocking at your hearts. Oh! I see His face, and 'tis very pale, 'tis very sad, 'tis all burdened with sadness. What makes it so sad? _Your sins_, your great, awful _black_ sins. Sometimes He smiles, and is pleased. When is that? That is when a young girl, or a boy, or even a little child, opens the door of the heart, and He can take that heart and make it His own, then the Lord Jesus is happy. Now, just listen! He is talking to an old woman, she is very old, her face is all wrinkled, her hands shake, she _must_ die soon, she can't live more than a year or so, the Lord Jesus is standing by her, and talking to her. He is saying, 'Give me thy heart, give me thy heart.' "She says she is so old and so wicked, she has been a bad wife, a bad mother, and bad friend; she is an awful drunkard. "'Never mind,' says Jesus, 'Give me thy heart, I'll forgive thee, poor sinner; I'll make that black heart white.' "Then she gives it to Him, and she is happy, and her whole face is changed, and she is not at all afraid to die. "Now, do you see that man? He is just out of prison. What was he in prison for? For beating his wife. Oh! what a villain, what a coward! How cruel he looks! Respectable people, and kind people, don't like to go near him, they are afraid of him. What a strong, brutal face he has! But the blessed Jesus isn't afraid. See, He is standing by this bad man, and He says, 'Give me thy heart.' "'Oh! go away,' says the man; 'do go away, my heart is too bad.' "I'll not go away without thy heart,' says Jesus; ''tis not too bad for me.' "And then the man, just because he can't help it, gives this heart, and hard as stone it is, to Jesus, and Jesus gives it back to him quite soft and tender, and there's no fear that _he_ will beat his wife again. "Now, look where Jesus is; standing by the side of a little child--of a little, young, tender child. That little heart has not had time to grow hard, and Jesus says, 'Give it to Me. I'll keep it soft always. It shall always be fit for the kingdom of heaven;' and the little child smiles, for she can't help it, and she gives her baby heart away at once. Oh! how glad Jesus is! What a beautiful sight! look at her face; is not it all sunshine? I think I see just such a little child there in front of me." Here the preacher paused, and pointed to Cecile, whose eyes, brilliant with excitement, were fixed on his face. She had been listening, drinking in, comprehending. Now when the preacher pointed to her, it was too much for the excitable child, she burst into tears and sobbed out: "Oh! I give my heart, I give my heart." "Blessings on thee, sweet lamb," came from several rough but kindly voices. Mrs. Moseley took her in her arms and carried her out. She saw wisely that she could bear no more. As they were leaving the hall, again there came a great burst of singing: |
||