LOVING hearts had been gathered by the mighty Spirit, God the Holy Ghost, to celebrate the death of their Redeemer. No spacious or costly building marked the spot chosen for such a holy purpose. No wonderfully-carved, massive pillars supported the roof beneath which those loyal hearts had assembled. The lofty tones of the majestic organ pealed not upon their ears; neither did the light, streaming in through richly-stained glass windows, arrest the eye by its effect upon the marble pavement.
The building into which I had entered in company with my dear young mistress, bore no external marks of the purpose to which it was devoted. Except for an announcement at the door, printed in large, clear, black letters, that the gospel of the grace of God would be preached there in the evening, it would have been easy to have passed that unpretending entrance, deeming it none other than an ordinary dwelling-place.
Rows of plain wooden benches, arranged in regular order from side to side, extended over the greater part of the room. But beyond these, on a table covered with a spotlessly-white cloth, lay the emblems of the death of the Holy One that redeemed company had met to remember.
A hallowed sense that He Himself was present in their “midst " seemed to pervade the hearts of all who shared in that simple service. Although on our way hither we had passed so many hundreds of people, of all ages, ranks and conditions, not more than eighty persons had been attracted to this unpretending spot; but upon the countenances of these, in a greater or lesser degree, there was an expression of some inward joy of which they and their Lord alone were fully conscious.
Here and there I did see one or two sad-looking faces. These, I thought to myself, looked like persons who bore their own burdens, instead of “casting them upon him who cared for them"; but even these forgot, for a time at least, themselves and their daily anxieties. Holy passages of the living word were read in tones that told of the way they spoke to the reader's own heart; joyful, grateful thanksgivings flowed spontaneously from lips ready to "give God the glory"; and sweet strains of heart music rose in harmony from the voices of the worshippers.
Then came that precious, sweetly solemn moment when, with bowed heads and hearts, those faithful few “celebrated the Lord's death," the broken bread, the poured out wine, His own divinely instituted symbols of what it cost Him to work out their redemption. Holy, hallowing, chastened joy filled their hearts as they thought of the wondrous love of Him who died for them. No sound broke the sweet, solemn stillness which succeeded the celebration. Sweeter than any words of theirs was it to hear the Lord's own voice, repeating in their ears, "Eat, O friends; yea, drink abundantly, O beloved." Silently they, indeed, "sat under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to their taste."
Quite a quarter of an hour had elapsed when a clear, manly, well-remembered voice gave vent to the blissful gratitude of the worshipping hearts present. I felt Kate give a slight start, as she recognized the voice of my dear old friend, Mr. Harbury of Barton, who, with a voice that had the same native originality of accent as of old, proceeded slowly and reverently to read the hymn:-
" Thy Name we bless, Lord Jesus,
That Name all names excelling,
How great Thy love all praise above,
Should every tongue be telling.
The Father's loving kindness,
In giving Thee was shown us;
Now by Thy blood redeemed to God,
As children He doth own us.
“From that eternal glory
Thou hadst with God the Father,
He gave His Son that He in one
His children all might gather;
Our sins were all laid on Thee,
God's wrath Thou hast endured;
It was for us Thou sufferedst thus,
And hast our peace secured.
“Thou from the dead wast raised-
And from all condemnation
Thy saints are free, as risen in Thee,
Head of the new creation!
On high Thou hast ascended,
To God's right hand in heaven,
The Lamb once slain, alive again,-
To Thee all power is given."
Then every member of that redeemed congregation rose, and such a strain of heart-felt adoration welled forth from their glad hearts, that one could fain have listened to it again and again. Another joyful lifting up of holy hands in thanksgiving, adoration and prayer, and the members of that peaceful assembly must needs depart to their varied homes, yet they left with hearts strengthened, and spirits refreshed, encouraged to tread yet more firmly the desert path which lay between them and the "rest that remaineth."
Kate was now advancing towards Mr. Harbury. Ah! there was the honest face; the silver gray hair that only partially covered the bald head; and also the same cheerful expression of countenance which had characterized him in the days of our first acquaintance. No glance of recognition, however, passed over the pleasant face, as Kate held out her hand to him saying:
“I suppose you have forgotten me, Mr. Harbury, though I have not forgotten you." A slightly puzzled look, as if some very indistinct remembrance of face or feature were recalled to his mind, passed over the venerable face, as with a deferential manner he replied,
“I hope you'll excuse me getting up to speak to you, miss; but I can't give myself the pleasure of recollecting you."
“You would have remembered my dear mother, Mr. Harbury," replied Kate. “You have not forgotten Mrs. Grahame of Claverton."
“Never!” said Mr. Harbury emphatically, as he gazed at my young mistress with a keen, searching look. And a smile of slight recognition played upon his lips as he added, "You are her-“
“Yes, I am her daughter, Kate Grahame," replied Kate, finishing the sentence which the old man had commenced. “You do not recollect me, do you?"
“You were only a child last time I saw your dear mother, miss; that was many years agone."
“Yes; I know it is a long time ago, Mr. Harbury," said Kate. “Many things have happened since you were at Claverton last."
“And amongst them, I heard that your dear mother had been taken to rest," said my old master in a gentle tone. “She’s at rest now, miss, with the Lord who died for her."
“Do you remember this little watch you sold her?" asked Kate, as she drew me from her pocket.
“Aye, aye; very well!" replied Mr. Harbury, as he took me in his hands and examined me. “This was the last purchase she made from me. Troubles had come before my next visit to Claverton, miss."
“You heard that, too, did you?" responded Kate; "but the Lord was very good to us. We have much to bless Him for."
“Yes, yes; bless Him for it!" ejaculated Mr. Harbury warmly. "And how did the watch work, miss?" he inquired after a moment's pause, during which he had been turning me over and over in his hands with great care.
“It could not have worked better than it has, Mr. Harbury," said Kate, as she took me from his hand. “It has been such a comfort to me in more ways than one."
“I am so glad, miss; so glad! Who would have thought after so many years agone, I should have met Mrs. Grahame's daughter in such a manner? But I am so glad to see you, miss; so glad! And I am very pleased to know the watch went all right; I felt sure it would do so when I recommended it."
“Have you been unwell long?" asked Kate, as she cast an inquiring glance at a pair of crutches lying close at hand.
“I have taken to use them for nearly two years agone, miss," replied my old master. “It was a sore trial to find my strength going, as I did at first; but now I can get about when I'm helped to start properly with their assistance. And that's a mercy I praise Him for every day." And with another hearty shake of the hand, and an invitation to Mr. Harbury to call in and see her father at their present lodging in Berkeley Street, we parted.