SHE was young, wealthy, and accomplished. Born in good position, she mixed in that society which the votaries of fashion so yearn for. Living in a beautiful home, furnished with every luxury, she was surrounded with everything that riches could procure her. Servants attended to her every wish, and in her stables were kept thirteen splendid horses to fulfill her sole pleasure. Foremost in the hunting-field, she refrained from no amusement that money could provide. And as she dashed along in her carriage, handsomely dressed, and attended by her liveried servants, how many longing eyes followed her, coveting her good fortune!
But was she really happy in the midst of all this? Perhaps you think she must have been; but, ah! she was learning what the richest and wisest monarch that ever lived had to learn “that all is vanity and vexation of spirit” in this world.
Let us listen to the wretched confession that fell from her own lips. About to leave her lovely home for a yet more charming one — her own estate, and with the prospect of marriage before her, she says: “I dare not even say I am going, for nothing I set my heart on ever comes to pass.”
Poor miserable lady! with all her boasted wealth and possessions was she not poor indeed? for underneath it all was an aching, unsatisfied heart, that had only learned, and that by bitter experience, that to drink of earth’s pleasures means “to thirst again,” without knowing from whence alone the heart can find peace and full joy.
He was old, and poor and dying. Dying too of that terrible disease cancer, which, accompanied by other maladies, made his sufferings most intense. He existed on parish relief, and was dependent on a neighbor for almost every service done for him; while his room, which scarcely kept out the weather, was bare and utterly comfortless.
Living but a short distance from the lady already referred to, he lay for many long weeks in suffering before the end came, and those that passed his cottage door used to say, “Poor fellow, how sad!”
But was he poor, and was he sad? No, indeed! For although devoid of almost all earthly possessions, he was “rich in faith”; and, spite of his bodily sufferings, his soul was rejoicing with “joy unspeakable.” It was indeed an honor to sit by his bedside and hear his bursts of praise and worship to God. Never once a murmur or complaint escaped his lips; and as one and another of the Lord’s servants visited him, they each and all came away refreshed and strengthened in their own souls. Was he not a living witness of the fact that “God is our refuge and strength, a VERY PRESENT help in trouble”? (Psa. 46:11<<To the chief Musician for the sons of Korah, A Song upon Alamoth.>> God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. (Psalm 46:1).)
“I thought I was coming to comfort you,” said one of them to him, “but the fact is you have comforted me.”
On one occasion a gentleman said to him,” Isn’t it a mercy to know we are soon going to be in the Lord’s presence?” “Ay,” replied the old man; “but isn’t it a mercy too to have the Lord’s presence with us now?” And another time, when the pain was very severe, his only exclamation was, “Oh to be once inside that bright glory!”
And his request was soon granted, for a few days after, as they stood beside him, they saw his lips move in prayer, and caught the words “Father! Father”! and the dear old man was present with the One whom, not having seen, he loved.
Which one now, think you, was the richest, and which one would you envy? The lady, who was obliged to own in the bitterness of her soul—
“All that my heart has tried,
Left but an aching void?”
or the dying saint who could add—
“Jesus has satisfied,
Jesus, my Lord”?
E. R. M.