Man requires, ere parting thence,
Pardon for the holiest life,
Helpless all—a Power above
Saving strength alone can give,
Sinners all,—a God of love
Only bids the guilty live!
From polluted works we flee,
Lord, to hide ourselves in Thee!”
It was a sunny afternoon in April. In a rustic3 arbour at the end of the garden, garlanded with honeysuckle and clematis, through the interstices of whose bright, young leaves came the smiling sunshine, and the soft breath of Spring, sat Ida and Mabel Aumerle. This arbour was a favourite retreat of the girls; thither4 they carried their books and their work; and could the clustering shrubs5 around it have had a voice, much could they have told of sweet converse6 held together by the sisters, and that free interchange of thought which is one of the dearest privileges of friendship.
“Ida, dearest,” said Mabel, “shall I tell you what Uncle Augustine said of you to-day when you left[97] the room after prayers? He said, ‘Ida is a noble girl, and has no fault except that of being too good.’ Papa smiled and shook his head gently; Mrs. Aumerle gave her odious7, little shrug8!”
“Uncle Augustine does not know my heart,” said Ida.
“But I know it if any one does, and I am sure that uncle himself cannot think more highly of you than I do.”
“You are partial,” replied her sister with a smile.
“I only wish that I were like you! I know I’m a proud, wayward girl, and shall never reach heaven unless I am better. I often make good resolutions, but somehow”—Mabel looked down sadly as she spoke9,—“somehow they break away like thread in the flame! I wonder if I shall ever be really holy.”
Ida laid down the muslin which she was working, and drawing closer to her young sister, said in a gentle tone, “You speak, dearest, of being holy and reaching heaven; of making good resolutions and not being able to keep them,—as if the impression were on your mind that you have to form, as it were, a ladder of good works, by which to reach a certain difficult height, beyond which lie the regions of glory.”
“That’s just it,” said Mabel sadly, “and I am discouraged because I always find that my ladder is too short; that climb as I may, I never can reach the height that you do.”
[98]
“I threw away my ladder long ago,” said Ida clasping her hands; “I found that every round in it was broken!”
“O Ida, what do you mean? I am certain that you have never ceased to do good works daily.”
“I would no more use them,” exclaimed Ida, “as a means of reaching heaven, than I would hope, by aid of yonder fragile clematis, to climb to the bright sun or stars! No,” she continued, her lip trembling with emotion as she spoke, “I would put those works which you call good, to the only use for which they are fit; if the fire of love kindle10 the broken, imperfect fragments, I may humbly11 offer upon them a sacrifice of thanksgiving to Him through whom alone I have hope of reaching the heavenly heights.”
“But, Ida, I can hardly yet see how every round on the ladder of good works is broken. I am sure that some—at least of yours, must be very pleasing to God.”
“Let us examine them closely,” replied Ida, “let us fix upon what you consider the very best of our works, and let us see if it could, even for a moment, in itself support the weight of a soul.”
Mabel considered for a little, and then said, “Perhaps the best of our works is prayer.”
“We shall not need much examination, I fear, to find that our prayers are cold, wandering, insincere.”
“Cold sometimes, yes,—but—”
“And sadly wandering,” added Ida; “at least I[99] am sure that I feel mine to be so. O Mabel! I have often reflected that if an angel could write down all the thoughts that flow through our minds while we kneel in the attitude of prayer,—the foolish fancies, the idle dreams, the vain selfish imaginations which mix with our earnest supplications, we should be so shocked and disgusted at such a mockery of devotion, that with penitence and shame we should implore12 that our prayers themselves should be forgiven!”
“Yes; they are cold and wandering,—but I am sure that mine are not insincere.”
“I am afraid that we sometimes ask for blessings13 which we have no earnest desire to obtain. Do we not sometimes pray to be delivered from pride and uncharitableness, when at the time we are fostering these enemies as welcome guests in our hearts? Have we fully14 entered into the spirit of that prayer which we have so often uttered:—
Whate’er that idol be,
Help me to tear it from thy throne,
And worship only Thee?’
If we were quite certain that such prayers would be granted directly, would we not sometimes be afraid to breathe them, and is there then no insincerity in having them so frequently on our lips?”
“O Ida!” exclaimed Mabel, with a sigh; “you look a great deal too closely into the heart! If our very prayers be full of sin, what must our worldly actions be? The most disagreeable duty in the[100] world is this searching for hidden evil, this dreadful self-examination! I am sure that a great many good people never practise it, and are much happier for their ignorance of themselves.”
“What should we say, dear one, of a man of business who refused to look into his books, lest he should find the balance against him? of the owner of a dwelling16 who should be content to keep one room swept and cleansed17, leaving all the rest, with locked doors and closed shutters18, to darkness and pollution? what should we think of the governor of a castle, who should pace proudly along the battlements, careless whether a lurking19 foe20 had not penetrated21 to the heart of the fortress22?”
“I should certainly think the two first fools, and the third a traitor23 to his trust,” replied Mabel. “But, Ida, this self-examination only makes us miserable24! If I find every round in my ladder broken, and have my fierce enemy behind me, and before me the heights which I shall never be able to reach,—what can I do but sit down and despair?”
“You forget, you forget,” cried Ida, with animation25, “the bright golden cord which is let down to you from above. We cannot climb to heaven by our good works; but faith, living, loving faith, can grasp the means of salvation26 held out by a merciful Saviour27. The more helpless we feel ourselves, the more eagerly we cling to our only sure hope. Mabel, this is the glory of the Gospel. It humbles28 the[101] sinner, but exalts29 the Saviour; it shows us that we can do nothing in ourselves, yet can do all things through Him who loved and gave himself for us!”
Mabel made no reply in words, but she drooped30 her head till it found its resting-place on a sister’s bosom31. An arm was gently drawn32 around her, and Ida imprinted33 a silent kiss on her brow. The demon34 Pride stood gloomily aloof35; he felt himself baffled for a time, and dared not intrude36 his presence on the sisters during the remainder of that peaceful day!
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1
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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2
penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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3
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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6
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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7
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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8
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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9
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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10
kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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12
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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13
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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14
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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15
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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16
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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17
cleansed
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| 弄干净，清洗( cleanse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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19
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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20
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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21
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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22
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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23
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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24
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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25
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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26
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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27
saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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28
humbles
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| v.使谦恭( humble的第三人称单数 )；轻松打败（尤指强大的对手）；低声下气 | |
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29
exalts
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| 赞扬( exalt的第三人称单数 )； 歌颂； 提升； 提拔 | |
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30
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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32
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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33
imprinted
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| v.盖印（imprint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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34
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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35
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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36
intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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