^ M. Lonsdale, HlsUr Bora, 102. ^ IMd. 52.
384 THE RAY AND THE REFLECTION
to subdue the virgin lands of our empire; if we have rescued woman from corruption and slavery ; if we have carried thrift and peace and purity into the lowest dens of misery — we were but following Him who promised rest to the weary and heavy- laden. If our light shines before men, if they see any good works in us, let them glorify not us, but our Father which is in heaven, the Sun of all our day, from whom every good and perfect gift descends. We are unprofitable servants: we have done but a scanthng of our duty. We that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak and not to please ourselves. If He, the Lord and Master, washed our feet, we also ought to wash one another's feet. It is the part payment of a debt.
^ To many a man the strongest force for good has come by his finding out that some one loves him and trusts him far more than he has ever deserved. He discovers or slowly realizes that some one better, purer, nobler than himself cares for him, believes in him, loves him ; and the discovery makes him ashamed of his un worthiness and ingratitude : it gives him a new hope, a higher standard for life. He has been content, perhaps, to be no better than the most easy-going, the least particular of his set; and then he finds out that a pure, true heart — his mother's, it may be, or his wife's, or his child's, or his friend's — is pouring out on him its wealth of love and trust, thinking him good, expecting great things of him, ready to wait or toil or suffer for his sake : some special occasion, it may be, or some side-light lets him see how deeply and generously he is cared for ; and he begins to say to himself that it's rather a shame to go on as he does. There must be some hope for him, some power or way for him to grow better, if people care for him, believe in him like that; anyhow, it's a shame not to try to be a bit more like what their love makes them think he is. And so he tries ; and, because they first loved him, he learns to love ; he begins to live a steadier, purer, more unselfish and dutiful life : a life in which love springs up higher, stronger, happier, like a tree growing in the soil that suits it.^
^ It was in the fall of 1859 that my future husband, then a young man of about twenty-one years, came to our section to teach school, where he used his talents and influence for the good of all with whom he came in contact. He was an excellent teacher, loved and respected by parents and pupils alike. He soon found his way to my father's and mother's home, for the former teachers had not been strangers there. He said afterwards
1 F. Paget, The RedemiMon of War, 58.
I JOHN IV. 19 385
that when he saw me for the first time that day in my own home, he determined that I should be his. The task proved to be not as easy as may have seemed ; but he had made up his mind, and, as in after-years in more important matters, when he won in spite of difficulties, so it was then. He poured forth his wealth of love and affection and compelled me to love him in return as I had never loved before. Of course we had to wait, but the time did not seem long. It was unalloyed bliss. Three years of school, of walks and talks, and when he left for college there were the letters, the visits, the hopes and aspirations and preparations, and with all at times a tinge of sadness lest I was not quite worthy of it all.'-
^ So they began to show him every possible kindness, and one after another helped him in his daily tasks, embracing every opportunity of pleading with him to yield to Jesus and take the new path of life. At first he repelled them, and sullenly held aloof. But their prayers never ceased, and their patient affections continued to grow. At last, after long waiting, Nasi broke down, and cried to one of the Teachers, — " I can oppose your Jesus no longer. If He can make you treat me like that, I yield myself to Him and to you. I want Him to change me too. I want a heart like that of Jesus." ^
^ There was one case of awful despair in a poor dying woman who refused to listen to any words of the mercy of God, saying only "too late, too late." To her, Mr. Marriott devoted much care and many prayers. It seemed as though no impression could be made upon her. The cry went on — "too late, too late, too late for me." But Mr. Marriott's tender fervour to bring her to faith and trust in her Saviour prevailed at last. He said, — " But you do believe in the love of those around you, now that Jesus sends it to you ? " With what seemed the last effort of life, she raised herself, — clasped her arms round the neck of the sister who was attending to her, — and kissing her answered, — " Yes, it is love." The last struggle followed almost immediately and we heard her say, " Jesus, save me," — the words he had entreated her to use. So his prayers had been heard. She died in hope and faith.3