Convenient Food.
Little Frances was crying; her sister Mary hearing her sobs, ran inhaste to inquire what had happened; and saw her sitting in a corner ofthe nursery, looking rather sulky, as if she had recently received somedisappointment.
"What is the matter, dear little Frances? why do you cry so?"
Frances pouted, and would make no reply.
"Tell me, dear Frances; perhaps I can do something for you."
"Nothing, Mary," she sobbed, "only"--
"Only what, little Frances? It cannot be _nothing_ that makes you cryso bitterly."
"Only mamma would not give--" she looked a little ashamed, and did notfinish her sentence.
"_What_ would she not give?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing!" Frances shook her elbows, as if troubled by Mary'sinquiries, but the tears continued flowing down her cheeks.
Just at that moment their sister Anne came into the room, singing inthe joy of her heart, with a piece of plum-cake in her hand, holding itup, and turning it about before her sisters to exhibit hernewly-acquired possession, on which Frances fixed her eyes with eagergaze, and the tears flowed still faster, accompanied with a kind ofangry sob.
"Frances! what is the matter that you are crying so? see what I havegot! you will spoil all the happiness of our feast."
At the word _feast_, Frances' tears seemed arrested, and her mouthlooked as if she were going to smile. She left the corner, andimmediately prepared to do her part for the feast, setting a littlesquare table, and then, drawing her own little stool, seated herself inreadiness as a guest.
"Stay," said Anne, "we will make some little paper dishes and plates,and divide the cake;" so saying, she began the operation, and layingdown the paper dishes, "there at the top, see! there shall be twochickens, at the bottom a piece of beef, at one side some potatoes, andat the other some cauliflower;" breaking her cake into small pieces tocorrespond to her imagined provision.
Frances looked very impatient at the long preparation, and as Anneseated herself, inviting Mary to partake, Frances stretched out herhand to take the beef for her own portion.
"No, no, Frances, you must not help yourself, you know; wait until weall begin in order."
Frances very reluctantly withdrew her hand, and, whilst she waited,betrayed her impatience by a little jerking motion of the body, thatthrew her breast against the table, as if she would beat time intoquicker motion.
"O we must not forget William!" Anne exclaimed; "where is he? he musttaste our feast; stay here, Mary, with Frances, and I will go and findhim."
Away she ran, and left poor Frances in a fret at this additional delay,but she began to amuse herself by picking up the small crumbs that hadbeen scattered on the stool, and at last proceeded to touch the beefand chickens.
"Do not do so, Frances," Mary said, in a reproving voice.
Frances colored.
"Do not sit _looking_ on, if you are so impatient; employ yourself, andget a seat ready for William."
"_You_ may get it, Mary."
"Very well; only do not meddle with Anne's feast."
Mary had to go into another room for the seat, and whilst she was away,Frances quickly helped herself to half of the pieces which were on thedishes, and, when Mary returned, resumed her position as if nothing hadhappened. Mary was so busy in arranging the seats, that she did notobserve what had been done.
Presently Anne came back, accompanied by her brother William; hasteningto her place, and looking on her table, she started with surprise, andseemed to say to herself, as she gazed, How came I to make a mistake,an think my pieces of cake were larger? but the expression of her facecalled Mary's attention, who at once said,
"Anne, I am sure you placed larger pieces on your dishes."
"Indeed, I thought so, Mary; who has taken any?"
"I do not know."
"O you are only _pretending_, and you have been hiding some."
"No, Anne; I would not have said I do not know, if I had _hid_ it."
"No, no more you would, dear Mary. Never mind," she said, glancing alook at Frances, not altogether without suspicion, "it is only to_play_ with, it does not signify whether it is much or little.
"William, shall I help you to a little chicken?"
"O no, Anne, you have forgot, help the _ladies_ first; and beside, youought to have placed me at the bottom of the table to carve this dish.What is it?"
"Beef, William."
"O beef, very well. Come, Miss Frances, let me sit there, and you cometo the side of the table."
In haste to begin the eating part of the play, she rose immediately tochange places, when, to her disgrace, a quantity of crumbs, which hadlodged unobserved in a fold of her frock, fell out, and disordered theneatness of the table.
"There!" said William, "we have no question to ask who took the libertyto lessen the dishes."
"For shame, William, I--"
"O Frances, take care what you say, tell no falsehoods; I will tell onetruth, and say you are a greedy girl."
Frances began to cry again, "For shame, William, to call me names."
"I call no names, I only say what I think, and how can I help it, whenit is only just now you cried so, because you said mamma had given me alarger piece of cake than yourself; for you must know," he continued,turning to Mary, "we have both had one piece before, and she half ofmine to make her quiet; and then she cried again because a piece wasput by for you and Anne, and she cannot be contented now, though Anneshares hers amongst us. If this is not being greedy, I do not know whatgreedy means. It is no names, it is only saying what a thing is."
"Now I know another thing," said Anne; "when mamma called me to receivemy piece of cake, she said, 'And you shall take a piece also to Mary,'but when she unfolded the paper, there was only _one_ piece; mamma didnot say anything, but I think she _thought_ something."
At this remark, Frances redoubled her crying, but, for the sake of ashare of the present feast, did not attempt to leave the party. No morewas said, and the feast was concluded in good humor by all except theconscious greedy girl, and they then all went into the garden togetherto finish their hour's recreation before they were called again totheir lessons.
There was a little plantation of young fir-trees at one corner of thegarden, intended to grow there for shelter from the north-west wind:the grass was so high amongst them, that the gardener had orders to goand carefully mow it down. He was engaged in the business when thechildren ran out to see him work.
"Hush! hush!" he exclaimed, as they approached, "I have just cleared abough from the grass, and see what's there!"
All curiosity, they went forward on tip-toe, and were directed tosomething lodged on the spreading branch of a young larch.
"A bird's nest!" said William.
"A bird's nest!" they all repeated. "But what is in it, I cannot tell."
"Look steadily," said the gardener, "and you will find out."
It was difficult to trace what it was; something all in a heap, brownnaked skin; alive, as might be known by the heaving breathing. Williamputting his finger to touch them, immediately four wide mouthsstretched open, with little tongues raised, and the opening of theirthroats extended to the utmost.
"Look at the little things," said William; "they thought their motherwas come when I touched the branch, and they have opened their mouthsto be ready to receive what she would put in.
"They are _blind_!" said William.
"Yes, they cannot have been hatched more than two days."
"Will they take what the mother gives them?" asked William.
"Yes," said the man, "they trust her, and swallow down what she putsinto their mouths."
"I wish the mother would come," said Anne.
"But she will not whilst we are here," William replied.
"Touch it again, William," said Frances.
William touched the edge of the nest "See!" said he, "they think themother is come, they stretch, their months still wider."
"Hark!" said Mary, "what an impatient noise they make: they look readyto stretch themselves out of their nest, and as if their little mouthswould tear."
"Poor little things! do not disappoint them, give them something," saidAnne.
"We have not proper food for them," said William.
"I will run and fetch some crumbs," said Mary.
Mary soon returned with a piece of bread, and giving it to her brotheras the most experienced, he broke it into extremely small crumbs, and,again touching the nest, awakened the expectation of the young birds:they opened their mouths wide, and as he dropped a small crumb intoeach, they moved their tongues, trying to make it pass down into theirthroat. "Poor little things, they cannot swallow well, they want themother to put it gently down their throat with her beak."
"See! see!" said all the girls, "they want more, give them more."
William dropped his crumbs again.
"More, more, William; see! they are not satisfied."
"I dare not give them more for fear of killing them, we cannot feedthem like the mother. We will stand still at a little distance, and youwill see them go to sleep." When all was quiet, the little nestlingsshut their mouths, and dropped their heads.
"I should like to see the mother feed them."
"You would see how much better she would do it than we can; perhaps, ifwe could conceal ourselves behind that laurel, she would come, but shewill be very frightened, because all is so altered now the grass is cutdown, and her nest is exposed; but I dare say she is not for off, shewill be watching somewhere."
They took William's hint, and retreated behind the laurel; they had notwaited ten minutes, before the hen bird flitted past, and, darting overthe larch, as if to inspect whether her little brood was safe, shedisappeared again. In a few minutes more, she returned, skimming roundto reconnoitre that all was safe, she perched upon the nest. Instantlythe little nestlings were awake to the summons of her touch and chirp,and, opening their mouths wide, were ready for what she would give. Shedropt a small fly into the mouth of one of them, and, having no more,flew away to provide for the other hungry mouths as fast as she could.As soon as she was gone, they again shut their mouths, and dropt theirheads in silence.
"What a little bit she gave them," said Frances.
"Yes," answered William, "but she knows it is _plenty_."
"How contented the others seem to wait till she comes again!"
"Yes, Mary," William again answered, unable to resist the comparisonwhich had come to his mind, "they did not take the little bit away fromthe other. Shall we wait till she comes again?"
"O do."
"Very well, I want to see whether the one that was fed first will takeaway the bit the others got."
The allusion made a little laugh, but, seeing that Frances understoodand felt that it applied to her, Anne said, "Do not let us teaseFrances; it is better to tell her at once what her fault is, than toseem to like to hurt her."
"Indeed, dear Anne, I have not spared to tell her, her fault, as sheknows very well, for she has often given me reason, but I cannot makeher ashamed of such things; and I know mamma is very uneasy to see itin her."
Frances looked grave, but did not cry; turning pale, however, she said,"O Mary take me out of this laurel--I am so sick!"
Mary hastened to take her into the freer air, but all in vain. Thesisters were alarmed, and took her in to their mamma; who received hergravely, without expressing any concern for her indisposition.
"What can we do for Frances, mamma? Will you let her have your smellingbottle, or shall I run and get some sal volatile?"
"Neither, my dear Mary; it is an indisposition caused by her ownselfish appetite, and probably the relief may be obtained by herstomach rejecting what she so improperly forced upon it. We will wait ashort time, and if not, I will give her something less palatable,perhaps, than plum-cake, but necessary to remove it."
Frances was too ill to make any remark; she became paler still, andthen quickly flushed almost a crimson color, her eyes were oppressed,and her eyebrows contracted, and she impatiently complained,
"O my head! how it beats! What shall I do, mamma?"
"Bear the consequences of your own inordinate appetite, Frances, andlearn to subject it to the wholesome rules of temperance."
"O the nasty plum-cake! I wish you had not given me any, mamma."
"You _once_ thought the plum-cake _nice_, and you would not becontented with the small portion I knew to be sufficient and safe foryou."
"O my head! I think it is very cruel, mamma, that you do not pity me."
"I do pity you, Frances, and will take care of you now that I see yourequire help, as I perceive that you will not have any relief withoutmedicine."
Frances began again to cry, "O, I am so sick! I cannot take medicine. Iam sure I cannot."
"Come to your room, Frances; I shall give you something proper, and youhad better lie down after you have taken it; you will, perhaps, dropinto a sleep, and be well when you awake again." Her mamma took herhand and led her up stairs, and Frances knew very well it was in vainto make any objection, as her mamma always made a point of obedience.The medicine was administered, although for some time Frances refusedto look at it. When she laid down, her mamma placed the pillow highunder her head, and, drawing the curtain to shade the light, left theroom that she might be perfectly quiet. And when she returned to thedrawing-room, she inquired of the other children what they had beendoing, and received a full account of the feast, and the bird's nest,and all the little circumstances of each.
It was time to resume their studies, and, except that Frances was notin her usual place, all things proceeded as before. When the lessonswere finished, they entreated their mamma to go with them, and see thebird's nest."
"It is _so_ pretty, mamma!" said Anne; "and they know when the mothercomes, and they take what she puts into their mouths."
"We will first inquire after Frances," she answered; "if she is wellenough, she can accompany us."
"I will run up, if you will be putting on your bonnet and shawl, mamma."
"Very well, I hope you will find her recovered, we will wait yourreturn."
Anne soon returned,--"She is gone! I do not see her anywhere!"
"Gone! In perhaps we shall find her at play in the garden."
In this expectation they all went out, and as they drew near the spotwhere the nest was, they saw Frances looking very eagerly into thenest, and seeming to be in some agitation, then she threw something outof her hand, and ran away as if wanting not to be seen.
"She is about some mischief," William said, and ran forward to thenest. But what was his grief to see one of the little birds dead on theground, two others in the nest with pieces of bread sticking in theirmouths, gasping, unable to swallow or reject it, and the fourth withits crop gorged, and slowly moving its little unfledged head from sideto side, struggling in death.
Full of sympathy with the little sufferer, and indignant with Frances,he exclaimed, "Provoking girl! she has stuffed the little creatures asshe would like to stuff herself; and I believe she has killed them all."
The lively interest the other children had in the nest, impelled themto hasten to the spot, and their lamentations, and even tears, soonflowed.
"William, William, cannot you do anything for them? do try."
"Well, stand still and do not shake my arm--so saying, he began theattempt, and drew the bread carefully out of the distended mouths ofthe two.
"Now the other! the other, William!"
"That I cannot help," he answered: "see! she has forced it down, and wecannot get it back again; it is dying now."
Anne picked up the dead one from off the ground, and stroking it withher forefinger, "Poor little thing!" she said, "was she so cruel toyou!"
It was not long before they heard a rustling in the tree near theplace, and then a chirp of fright and distress. "Ah!" said their mamma,"there is the mother! poor things, we will go a little distance to lether come to the nest; perhaps she wi
ll be able to save the two."
They all withdrew, and the little parent bird was soon on her nest,fluttering and chirping to awaken the dead and dying little ones, tillat length she sorrowfully brooded down on her nest, and spread herwings over them, occasionally chirping as if to solicit an answer fromher little brood.
"Oh!" said Mary, bursting into tears, "I cannot bear it! cruel Frances,to be so unkind to the little birds!"
"Go and find Frances," said their mamma, "and bring her to me."
"I will go," William answered, "I think I know where she will hideherself."
It was not long before William returned, leading Frances, who veryreluctantly yielded to accompany him.
"Come here," said her mamma, stopping the accusations she saw wereready to overwhelm the offending little girl; "come here, and let metalk to you about this sad thing you have done to the little birds. Doyou see what you have done by your ill-judged kindness?"
"Kindness! mamma," they all exclaimed.
"Yes, dear children, she has been very faulty, but I believe she meantto be kind, and through ignorance did this thing which proves the deathof the birds. _You_ would not have done it, William, because you havealready learnt there is such a thing as a necessary prudence to dealout your morsels with wisdom, and in a measure suited to the age andthe capacity of the birds, and also that their food should be of awholesome kind suitable to their nature. Nothing of this did Francesknow, and it seems she had not learnt wisdom from the circumstances shehad herself so lately fallen into.
"It reminds me of the scripture, which teaches us to profit: 'Open thymouth wide, and I will fill it.' These little birds first attractedyour attention by their _open mouths_, which they had stretched toreceive what their poor mother was preparing to put into them. As onelighted on the edge of their nest, they instinctively opened theirlittle yellow-edged beaks; she delighted to see them do so; and they,taking with content what she had provided for them, with the utmostconfidence swallowed it down. She had a bit for every one of them inturn and they waited patiently until it was given them. All was wellwhilst they were nourished with parental tenderness and prudence, andnone other meddled with them, or ventured to give them other things,which they, being blind, received and knew not the hand that gave, northe consequences of eating food not such as their parent would haveprovided.
"Here you see Frances, neither prudent nor aware of consequences, hasstuffed these little birds with improper food, both in quality andquantity. The consequences are fatal; one is dead, another is dying,and it is very uncertain whether the others also will not die. She fedthem without measure, and their crops and throats were gorged so as tostop their breathing. They took it greedily, because they knew not thefatal consequences.
"Frances, you are a greedy girl. You had been suffering for thisoffence, and had not the wisdom to leave it to me to apportion yourfood. You opened your mouth wide, but you must remember it is notwritten that _you_ are to fill it according to your own desires. 'Iwill fill it,' saith the Lord. He knows what is good for us, and hewill measure his bounty according to his own wisdom."
Frances began to look ashamed and sorrowful.
"I was to you," her mamma continued, "in the affair of the cake,endeavoring to fulfil this my duty, but you rebelled against mydiscretion, and would covet more than was right. You _helped yourself_,you gorged your stomach. You were cross and peevish, and ill, and whenthe medicine had relieved you, as it was designed, you, withoutreflection, sallied forth and suffocated the little birds. You couldnot feed them as the _mother_ would. You could not find in the air andon the ground the little insects, and small worms and little grainswhich were their proper food, and you should have left it to their ownmother to fill their opened mouths. _She_ would have made no mistakeeither in the quality or quantity _convenient_ for them."
"O," Mary said, "how that reminds me of the scripture in Proverbs xxx.8: 'Feed me with food _convenient_ for me.'"
"Yes, my dear girl, it's a scripture of great importance and often doesit impress my mind in combination with the other I mentioned, Ps.lxxxi. 10: 'Open thy mouth wide, and _I_ will fill it,' in theirspiritual application, when I am providing for you, and dividing outyour portions, and considering what diet is most suited to yourconstitution, and limiting the quantity of dainty or rich luxuries not_convenient_ for you. I am also frequently led to apply it to myself,and to offer my petition to the Lord that he will graciously judge forme, both temporally and spiritually to _fill_ my mouth, and feed mewith food _convenient_ for me."
"I think too, mamma, that there is some meaning belonging to this inour Lord's teaching us to pray, 'Give us this day our daily bread,'Matt. vi. 11."
"Assuredly, my dear child, and I am rejoiced to find you are led bythis subject to compare spiritual things with spiritual.
"You see how the word of God interprets itself, and we are taught to godirect to the bounteous hand who giveth liberally, but never wastefullyOur daily bread is sufficient for the day, and we must wait on himstill for the daily bread of the succeeding day; so we are instructedto open our mouths wide to ask the Lord to fulfil his promise and tofill them, and to be contented with convenient food."
"O Mamma, you cannot think how many scriptures seem to come to my mind,and to give me a clearer understanding. You know the manna which wasgiven in the wilderness, was _convenient_ food when it was gathereddaily as the Lord commanded, but when they laid it up, you know it wasno longer _convenient,_ for it stunk and bred worms. Does not thisteach us to trust God as well as not to _disobey_ him?"
"May this ready application of the word of God proceedeth from thatgrace, my child, which teaches you, like Job, to esteem the word of Godmore than your necessary food, for you will also remember what our Lordsaid to the tempter, 'It is written, Man does not live by _breadalone,_ but _by every word_ that proceeded out of the mouth of God.'But we are too apt to forget this, and to imagine that we can providewell for ourselves by fulfilling the desires and lusts of the flesh,and by so doing, we are likely to be brought to _forget_ God, thebountiful and wise Supplier of all our wants."
"I remember the text, mamma, which has in it, 'Feed me with food_convenient_ for me; and in another part, 'lest I be full and denythee,' Prov. xxx. 9; and this little bird's nest has helped me tounderstand it better."
"May the Holy Spirit engrave it on your heart, for it will often remindyou of the thankful contentedness with which you ought to wait on theLord."
"Yes, mamma," William said, "but there is no harm, you know, in openingthe mouth _wide_."
"No, William, certainly no _harm_, for it is a _duty_. 'Open thy mouthwide,' is an injunction of God, but it is immediately subjoined andstrictly said, 'and I will fill it.' Therefore bear in mind the doubleinstruction. Neither take the filling on yourself, nor be ready toswallow every crude and unwholesome morsel which the ignorant or thewicked would present to you. Do you remember a certain day last weekwhen something happened?"
William looked anxious to recollect what his mamma alluded to, and inless than a minute he shook his head, and said, "Ah, mamma, that is toobad, you mean when Mrs. Arnot called, and you were out."
"Yes I do, William; you all opened your mouths wide, and _she_ filledthem. Her sweet things did not prove _convenient_ food. You see,therefore, we should learn to discriminate between a heavenly Father'sprovision, and that of a stranger, whose busy interference may cost youyour life. I was not many minutes away from my little nest, when astranger came, and, by mistaken kindness made you all ill.
"Frances, have you never read that scripture: 'Put a knife to thythroat, if thou be a man given to appetite.'"
Frances cried, and, sobbing, said, "I do not know what it means?"
"What can it mean, my dear Frances, but parallel with those, 'If thyright eye offend thee, pluck it out if thy right hand offend thee, cutit off. It is better for thee to enter into life halt or maimed, than,having two hands or two feet, to be cast into everlasting fire,' Matt.xvvi. 29, 30. ii. 8, 9. It means that spirit
which will sacrifice thelust of the heart, and deny itself, though it should be a presentmortification. The _throat_ of an inordinate or diseased appetite is tobe cut, and its carnal desires crucified."
"Was it not something of this kind that Isaac fell into when he sentEsau to hunt venison, and make him savory meat, such as his soul loved?Gen. xxvii. 4."
"Yes, William, and this very thing he desired presented the temptationby which he was deceived. And you might have mentioned, too, how Esauhimself yielded to his appetite, and sold his birthright for a mess ofpottage, Gen. xxv. 29. When we yield to these propensities of theflesh, we lay a snare for our own souls, and expose our weakness to anadversary, ever ready to take advantage of our infirmity. It is acommon fault in children to desire with greedy appetite such food as ispernicious, and to wish for more than even a mouth opened widerequires--till at length they learn to lust after _forbidden_ things.And what does it lead to? Frances, you began to pick and steal, andyour own iniquity chastised you:--you were sick and ill."
Frances hid her face in her frock.
"Ah mamma," said Anne, "I shall be afraid of wanting anything, as Iused to do; and I hope I shall remember how much better you can feedme, than I can feed myself."
"I wish I may too," said William. "If Eve had but waited for the Lordonly to fill her mouth, she would not have eaten that which brought sinand death."
"Tell me, Frances, if you feel the force of all we have learnt from thelittle birds, and your own mistaken idea of what would be good forthem?"
Frances did not answer.
"But you know, my child, you were guilty of another fault; when themedicine was offered, which was likely to do you good,--you _refused_to open your mouth, and was long before you would let me fill it, soyou see we must leave it all to the Lord to give us much or little,bitter or sweet, just as he knows to be _convenient_ for us."
"Yes," Mary said, "these poor little birds will long teach us a lesson.We may imitate them to open our mouth wide, but we must be warned bywhat happened to them, to let the _Lord_ only fill them."
"Let us look again at the nest." They approached, and frightened themother so, that she flew off.
"See, see! William," said Anne, "the two little things are openingtheir mouths again. O how beautiful! let us never meddle with them anymore. Only remember, 'Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it.' Now,Frances, do not cry any more: come, we will bury these little deadbirds."
Frances wiped her eyes, and Anne giving her a kiss, they went away todo as she proposed. After they had made a little coffin, they put thetwo little dead birds into it Then William got a spade, and dug a gravejust large enough to hold the little coffin: and, as he lowered it intothe grave, Mary wiped away the tears which gathered in her eyes. WhenWilliam had filled up the grave, they all returned to their mamma, whosaid--
"My dear children, do not let us dismiss this interesting subjectwithout a closer application. My dear Frances, come near to me, andhear what I have to say."
Frances drew near with some timidity. Conscious of her faults, andexpecting the word of truth to be directed to her heart, she had atthat moment rather have escaped from it. But her mamma, taking herhands into hers, and sitting down on a garden stool that was nigh, shefelt that the words would be words of love, aid her heart beginning tosoften, the tears were ready to flow, for she knew that her mamma wouldspeak to her of Jesus and of his blood, which was shed for sinners.
"Do you know quite well, my child, that among the fruits of the Spiritenumerated, Gal. v., there is one called TEMPERANCE?"
"Yes, mamma," she replied.
"Are you not also conscious, my dear child, that your desire ofindulging your appetite is quite contrary to this holy fruit?"
"Yes, mamma."
"Then what are you to do in order to overcome the one, and to obtainthe other?"
"I must ask the Lord Jesus to give me the Holy Spirit."
"Yes, my child, to him must you come for all help, and he will not sendyou empty away. Here is a subject on which you must indeed open yourmouth wide, in earnest prayer, and wait on the Lord for his graciousanswer. 'Ask, and ye shall receive,' he says, and after showing how an_earthly_ father will act towards his child that asks for bread, howdoes he conclude?"
"He says, 'How much _more_ will your _heavenly_ Father give the _HolySpirit_ to them that ask Him!'"
"Will you then, my dear Frances, profit by this gracious instruction,and will _you_ ask for the Holy Spirit?"
"Yes, mamma, I will try."
"Do you believe the Lord will give you the Holy Spirit when you ask?"
"He _says_ He _will_, mamma."
"That is enough, my child; what the Lord says is yea and amen. It iswritten, 'Hath he said, and will he not do it?'"
"Yes, mamma, I know God is _Truth_, He cannot lie."
"But you know also, my dear Frances, when the Holy Spirit is given, hetakes up his abode in the heart, and he _acts_ in the soul, and willnot dwell there without producing his holy fruit; and tell me now whatis the fruit you particularly want to overcome this sinful desire ofappetite which prevails in your heart."
"Is it not _temperance_, mamma?"
"Yes, and if He comes into your heart, he will give it you, andmoreover teach you to _repent_ of your sins; for consider, my Frances,sin is an offence against him, and needs to be repented of. Do yourepent?"
"I am very sorry, mamma."
"But repentance is more than sorrow; it will make you ashamed beforeGod, and make you feel yourself vile; and it will also make youcarefully watchful against the temptation; it will make you anxious toquit the sin, and clear your soul from its power; it will make youindignant against it, and urge you to seek that strength from theSpirit, which will resist the sin, and overcome it. When, therefore,you ask for the Holy Spirit, be _willing_ that the Lord should _fill_you. Be ready to _exercise_ the mighty gift for _all_ his offices, toconvict you of sin, to lead you to true expectations, and to strengthenyou to overcome your sin, giving you that grace which is speciallyopposed to the leading sin of your heart."
"I wish I had this gift; for my sin makes me very unhappy: I know it iswrong."
"Do not stop in _wishes_, dear child, go and _pray_; '_Ask_, and yeshall receive.' 'Open your mouth wide' in the full utterance of allyour distress, and of all you desire; pray for what you _want, name_it; pray for _repentance_, and for _temperance_. Pray that the _lust ofyour appetite_ may be _crucified_, and pray that the blood of Jesus,the Lamb of God who taketh away sin, may be sprinkled upon your guiltysoul, and cleanse it from all sin. He giveth liberally, and upbraidethnot. He is angry only when we neglect his promises and his gifts.
"It is not long since, dear Mary, that you and I conversed on thistext, 'My people would not hearken to my voice, Israel would none ofme: _so I gave them up to their own heart's lusts_,' Psa. lxxxi. Adreadful judgment! what would become of _you_, dear Frances, if youwere given up to the dominion of your appetite?"
"But, my dear mamma," Mary said, "do you not remember the end of thatpsalm, what a sweet verse there is?"
"Repeat it, dear girl, and let little Frances hear it!"
"'_Had_ they hearkened and obeyed, then should he have fed them withthe finest of the wheat, and with honey out of the rock should I havesatisfied them.'"
"O my children," said their mamma, "here is spiritual food for thespiritual appetite! You know who is the Bread of Life, and who is theRock of our salvation. Turn unto him your whole heart, and though youfeel the burden of the body of this death, you shall soon be able tothank God, who, through Jesus Christ our Lord, will deliver you."
"Poor Esau repented too late, That once he his birth-right despis'd, And sold for a morsel of meat, What could not too highly be priz'd. How great was his anguish when told, The blessing he sought to obtain Was gone with the birth-right he sold, And none could recall it again!
He stands as a warning to all, Wherever the gospel shall come! O hasten and yield to the call, While yet for repentanc
e there's room! Your season will quickly be past; Then hear and obey it to-day, Lest when you seek mercy at last, The Saviour should frown you away.
What is it the world can propose? A morsel of meat at the best! For this are you willing to lose A share in the joys of the blest? Its pleasures will speedily end, Its favor and praise are but breath; And what can its profits befriend Your soul in the moments of death?
If Jesus, for these, you despise, And sin to the Saviour prefer, In vain your entreaties and cries, When summon'd to stand at his bar: How will you his presence abide? What anguish will torture your heart, The saints all enthron'd by his side, And you be compelled to depart.
Too often, dear Saviour, have I Preferr'd some poor trifle to thee; How is it thou dost not deny The blessing and birth-right to me? No better than Esau I am, Though pardon and heaven be mine To me belongs nothing but shame, The praise and the glory be thine."
Fanny, the Flower-Girl; or, Honesty Rewarded. To Which are Added Other Tales Page 2