They had all just come back from the funeral, it was a real house of mourning and it did me good to be there. I had feelings of embarrassment and shame at seeing that deep, estimable grief, for these people are estimable.
Blessed are they that mourn, blessed are they that are ‘sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing’, blessed are the pure in heart, for God comforts the simple. Blessed are they that find Love on their path, who are bound intimately with one another by God, for to them all things work together for good. I talked with Harry for a long time, until the evening, about all kinds of things, about the kingdom of God and about his Bible, and we walked up and down on the station, talking, and those moments before parting we’ll probably never forget.
We know each other so well, his work was my work, the people he knows there I know too, his life was my life, and it was given to me to see so deeply into their family affairs, I think, because I believe that I love them, not so much because I know the particulars of those affairs, but because I feel the tone and feeling of their being and life.
So we walked back and forth on that station, in that everyday world, but with a feeling that was not everyday.
They don’t last long, such moments, and we soon had to take leave of each other. It was a beautiful sight, looking out from the train over London, that lay there in the dark, St Paul’s and other churches in the distance. I stayed in the train until Richmond and walked along the Thames to Isleworth, that was a lovely walk, on the left the parks with their tall poplars, oaks and elms, on the right the river, reflecting the tall trees. It was a beautiful, almost solemn, evening; I got home at quarter past 10.
Thanks for your last letter. You hadn’t yet written that Mrs Vintcent had died; how often I brought her home in the evenings. Do you still visit Borchers sometimes? How I’d like to have walked with you to Hoeven! I often teach the boys biblical history, and last Sunday I read the Bible with them. Mornings and evenings we all read the Bible and sing and pray, and that is good. We did that at Ramsgate, too, and when those 21 sons of the London markets and streets prayed ‘Our Father, who art in Heaven, give us this day our daily bread’, I’ve sometimes thought of the cry of the young ravens that the Lord hears, and it did me good to pray with them and to bow my head, probably even lower than they did, at the words Do not lead us into temptation but deliver us from evil.
I’m still full of yesterday; it must be good to be the brother of the man I saw so sorrowful yesterday, I mean that it must ‘be blessed to mourn’ with manly sorrow, how I’d have liked to comfort the Father, but I was embarrassed, though I could talk to the son. There was something hallowed in that house yesterday.
Have you ever read ‘A life for a life’, I think in Dutch it’s called ‘Uit het leven voor het leven’, by the woman who wrote John Halifax? You’d find it very beautiful. How’s your English coming along?
It was a delight to take a long walk again, very little walking is done here at school. When I think of my life of struggle in Paris last year and now here, where sometimes I can’t leave the house for a whole day, or at least no further than the garden, then I sometimes think, when will I return to that world? If I do return to it, though, it will probably be some other kind of work than I did last year. But I think that I prefer doing biblical history with the boys to walking; one feels more or less safe doing the former.
And now, regards to everyone at the Rooses’, and if anyone else should ask after me. How are the Van den Berghs, and the Van Stockums on Buitenhof? Do you ever hear anything from them? A handshake in thought and best wishes from
Your most loving brother
Vincent
And herewith a letter for Mauve. You may read it, I believe it’s good not to forget one’s old acquaintances, that’s why I’m writing again to some of them, also those in Paris, to Soek and others.
If you can persuade anyone to read Scenes from clerical life by Eliot, and Felix Holt, you’ll be doing a good deed. The former is a wonderful book. Recommend the former to Caroline and to the Mauves and, if possible, to Mr Tersteeg as well.
Could you write by return of post saying whether a Dutch pound of butter costs 80 cents and — if it’s a different pound — what part of a kilo is it then?
Also give my regards to Mr and Mrs Tersteeg and Betsy.
I’m writing to you between school hours and rather in haste, as you can see.
96 | Isleworth, Friday, 3 November 1876 | To Theo van Gogh (D/E)
Isleworth
My dear Theo,
It’s again high time that you heard something from me. Thank God you’re recovering, I long so much for Christmas — perhaps that time will come before we know it, even though it seems a long way off.
Theo, your brother spoke for the first time in God’s house last Sunday, in the place where it is written ‘I will give peace in this place’. I’m copying out what it was herewith. May it be the first of many.
It was a clear autumn day and a lovely walk from here to Richmond along the Thames, which reflected the large chestnut trees with their load of yellow leaves and the clear blue sky, and between the tree-tops the part of Richmond that lies on the hill, the houses with their red roofs and windows without curtains and green gardens, and the grey tower above it all, and below, the large grey bridge with tall poplars on either side, with people crossing it who looked like small black figures. When I stood in the pulpit I felt like someone emerging from a dark, underground vault into the friendly daylight, and it’s a wonderful thought that from now on, wherever I go, I’ll be preaching the gospel — to do that well one must have the gospel in his heart, may He bring this about. God says, Let there be light: and there is light. He speaks, and it is done. He commands, and it stands, and it stands fast. Faithful is He that calleth us, who also will do it. You know enough of the world, Theo, to see how a poor preacher stands rather alone as far as the world is concerned — but He can awaken in us, more and more, awareness and firmness of faith. ‘And yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me’.
I know in Whom my faith is founded,
Though day and night change constantly,
I know the rock on which I’m grounded,
My Saviour waits, unfailingly.
When once life’s evening overcomes me,
Worn down by ills and strife always,
For every day Thou hast allowed me,
I’ll bring Thee higher, purer praise.
Praise, Christian, there on your left hand,
And on your right, is God—
When I have no more strength to stand,
When anguished, there is God—
When loving hand of faithful friend
Helps not, there is God—
In death and agony at life’s end,
Yes, everywhere is God.
How I long for Christmas and to see all of you, old boy, it seems to me that I’ve grown years older in these few months.
The panting hart, the hunt escapèd,
Cries no harder for the pleasure
Of fresh flowing streams of water
Than my soul doth long for God.
Yea, my soul thirsts for the Lord,
God of life, oh when shall I
Approach Thy sight, and drawing nigh,
Give Thee praise in Thine own house.
Why art thou cast down, my soul,
Disquieted in me, oh why?
Foster again the faith of old,
Rejoice in praising Him most high.
Oft hath he taken your distress
And turned it into happiness.
Hope in Him, eyes heavenward raised,
For to my God I still give praise.
My boy, if illness and difficulties come to meet us, let us thank Him for bringing us into these hours — and let us not forget meekness, for it is written: On this man will I look, even on him who is poor and sorrowful and who trembleth at My word. Yesterday evening I went to Richmond again, and took a walk there on a large common surrounded by trees, and ho
uses around it, above which the tower rose. Dew lay on the grass and it was growing dark; on one side the sky was still full of the glow of the sun that had just set there, on the other side the moon was rising. An old lady (dressed in black) with lovely grey hair was walking beneath the trees. In the middle of the common, some boys had lit a big fire, which one saw flickering in the distance; I thought of this: when once life’s evening overcomes me, worn down by ills and strife always, for every day Thou hast allowed me, I’ll bring Thee higher, purer praise. Adieu, a handshake in thought from
Your most loving brother,
Vincent
Regards to Mr and Mrs Tersteeg, Haanebeeks, Van Stockums and everyone at the Rooses’ and Van Iterson and if you should see someone or other whom I know.
Your brother was indeed moved when he stood at the foot of the pulpit and bowed his head and prayed ‘Abba, Father, let Thy name be our beginning’.
On Thursday week I hope to speak at Mr Jones’s church: And the Lord added daily to the church such as should be saved, on John and Theagenes.
Psalm 119:19 I am a stranger in the earth, hide not Thy commandments from me.
It is an old faith and it is a good faith that our life is a pilgrims progress — that we are strangers in the earth, but that though this be so, yet we are not alone for our Father is with us. We are pilgrims, our life is a long walk, a journey from earth to heaven.
The beginning of this life is this. There is one who remembereth no more Her sorrow and Her anguish for joy that a man is born into the world. She is our Mother. The end of our pilgrimage is the entering in Our Fathers house where are many mansions, where He has gone before us to prepare a place for us. The end of this life is what we call death — it is an hour in which words are spoken, things are seen and felt that are kept in the secret chambers of the hearts of those who stand by, it is so that all of us have such things in our hearts or forebodings of such things. There is sorrow in the hour when a man is born into the world, but also joy — deep and unspeakable — thankfulness so great that it reacheth the highest Heavens. Yes the Angels of God, they smile, they hope and they rejoice when a man is born in the world. There is sorrow in the hour of death — but there too is joy unspeakable when it is the hour of death of one who has fought a good fight. There is One who has said, I am the resurrection and the life, if any man believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. There was an Apostle who heard a voice from heaven, saying: Blessed are they that die in the Lord for they rest from their labour and their works follow them. There is joy when a man is born in the world but there is greater joy when a Spirit has passed through great tribulation, when an Angel is born in Heaven. Sorrow is better than joy — and even in mirth the heart is sad — and it is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasts, for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better. Our nature is sorrowful but for those who have learnt and are learning to look at Jesus Christ there is always reason to rejoice. It is a good word, that of St Paul: As being sorrowful yet always rejoicing. For those who believe in Jesus Christ there is no death and no sorrow that is not mixed with hope — no despair — there is only a constantly being born again, a constantly going from darkness into light. They do not mourn as those who have no hope — Christian Faith makes life to evergreen life.
We are pilgrims in the earth and strangers — we come from afar and we are going far. The journey of our life goes from the loving breast of our Mother on earth to the arms of our Father in heaven. Everything on earth changes — we have no abiding city here — it is the experience of everybody: That it is Gods will that we should part with what we dearest have on earth — we ourselves, we change in many respects, we are not what we once were, we shall not remain what we are now. From infancy we grow up to boys and girls — young men and young women — and if God spares us and helps us — to husbands and wives, Fathers and Mothers in our turn, and then, slowly but surely the face that once had the ‘early dew of morning’ gets its wrinkles, the eyes that once beamed with youth and gladness speak of a sincere deep and earnest sadness — though they may keep the fire of Faith, Hope and Charity — though they may beam with Gods spirit. The hair turns grey or we loose it — ah — indeed we only pass through the earth, we only pass through life — we are strangers and pilgrims in the earth. The world passes and all its glory. Let our later days be nearer to Thee and therefore better than these.
Yet we may not live on just anyhow — no, we have a strife to strive and a fight to fight. What is it we must do: We must love God with all our strength, with all our might, with all our heart, with all our soul, we must love our neighbour as ourselves. These two commandments we must keep and if we follow after these, if we are devoted to this, we are not alone for our Father in Heaven is with us, helps us and guides us, gives us strength day by day, hour by hour. and so we can do all things through Christ who gives us might. We are strangers in the earth, hide not Thy commandments from us. Open Thou our eyes, that we may behold wondrous things out of Thy law. Teach us to do Thy will and influence our hearts that the love of Christ may constrain us and that we may be brought to do what we must do to be saved.
On the road from earth to Heaven
Do Thou guide us with Thine eye.
We are weak but Thou art mighty
Hold us with Thy powerful hand.
Our life, we might compare it to a journey, we go from the place where we were born to a far off haven. Our earlier life might be compared to sailing on a river, but very soon the waves become higher, the wind more violent, we are at sea almost before we are aware of it — and the prayer from the heart ariseth to God: Protect me o God, for my bark is so small and Thy sea is so great. The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths it has its pearls too. The heart that seeks for God and for a Godly life has more storms than any other. Let us see how the Psalmist describes a storm at sea, He must have felt the storm in his heart to describe it so. We read in the 107th Psalm, They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters, these see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the deep. For He commandeth and raiseth up a stormy wind which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to Heaven, they go down again to the depth, their soul melteth in them because of their trouble. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble and He bringeth them out of their distresses, He bringeth them unto their desired haven.
Do we not feel this sometimes on the sea of our lives. Does not everyone of you feel with me the storms of life or their forebodings or their recollections?
And now let us read a description of another storm at sea in the New Testament, as we find it in the VIth Chapter of the Gospel according to St John in the 17th to the 21st verse. And the disciples entered into a ship and went over the sea toward Capernaum. And the sea arose by reason of a great wind that blew. So when they had rowed about five and twenty or thirty furlongs, they see Jesus walking on the sea and drawing nigh unto the ship and they were afraid. Then they willingly received Him into the ship and immediately the ship was at the land whither they went. You who have experienced the great storms of life, you over whom all the waves and all the billows of the Lord have gone — have you not heard, when your heart failed for fear, the beloved well known voice — with something in its tone that reminded you of the voices that charmed your childhood — the voice of Him whose name is Saviour and Prince of peace, saying as it were to you personally — mind to you personally ‘It is I, be not afraid’. Fear not. Let not your heart be troubled. And we whose lives have been calm up to now, calm in comparison of what others have felt — let us not fear the storms of life, amidst the high waves of the sea and under the grey clouds of the sky we shall see Him approaching for Whom we have so often longed and watched, Him we need so — and we shall hear His voice, It is I, be not afraid. And if after an hour or season of anguish or distress or great difficulty or pain or sorrow we hear Him ask us ‘Dost Thou love me’ then let us say, Lord Tho
u knowest all things, Thou knowest that I love Thee. And let us keep that heart full of the love of Christ and may from thence issue a life which the love of Christ constraineth. Lord Thou knowest all things, Thou knowest that I love Thee, when we look back on our past we feel sometimes as if we did love Thee, for whatsoever we have loved, we loved in Thy name. Have we not often felt as a widow and an orphan — in joy and prosperity as well, and more even than under grief — because of the thought of Thee.
Truly our soul waiteth for Thee more than they that watch for the morning — our eyes are up unto Thee, o Thou who dwellest in Heavens. In our days too there can be such a thing as seeking the Lord.
What is it we ask of God — is it a great thing? Yes it is a great thing, peace for the ground of our heart, rest for our soul — give us that one thing and then we want not much more, then we can do without many things, then can we suffer great things for Thy names sake. We want to know that we are Thine and that Thou art ours, we want to be thine — to be Christians. We want a Father, a Fathers love and a Fathers approval. May the experience of life make our eye single and fix it on Thee. May we grow better as we go on in life.
We have spoken of the storms on the journey of life, but now let us speak of the calms and joys of Christian life. And yet, my dear friends, let us rather cling to the seasons of difficulty and work and sorrow, even for the calms are treacherous often.
The heart has its storms, has its seasons of drooping but also its calms and even its times of exaltation. There is a time of sighing and of praying but there is also a time of answer to prayer. Weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning.
The heart that is fainting
May grow full to o’erflowing
And they that behold it
Shall wonder and know not
That God at its fountains
Ever Yours Page 10