CHAPTER XV.

THE EASTER SERVICE.

EASTER morning rose clear and bright in the village of Brooksville, and the hills which inclosed the valley seemed to put on their most smiling aspect, to welcome in the Resurrection Morn. The season was remarkably forward, and many early flowers were in blossom, while the air was filled with the fragrance of the blossoming fruit-trees, and the songs of birds.

Edah rose earlier than usual, for she felt anxious, by devotion and meditation, to prepare herself for the full enjoyment of the day's solemnities. After her usual prayer and reading, she seated herself by the open window, and endeavored to compose her mind to a realization of the blessings she enjoyed, and the labors yet before her.

Last Easter she had been at school; she had attended church on that day, but it had been only as a spectator of the devotions of others;—the sermon had pleased her, but it was only as a specimen of finished eloquence that she admired it; and when the invitation was given for the followers of Christ to draw near, and with thankful hearts to celebrate their Passover, she had turned away with the crowd, who thus proclaimed that they had no part nor lot in the matter. The remaining hours had been spent in miscellaneous reading, or in preparing some school exercise, and she could not remember that, during the whole day, she had bestowed one thought upon the great event it was intended to commemorate.

What would she have said, had some supernatural power spread before her eyes, at that time, the scenes through which she had just passed, and the labors in which she had since found her chief pleasure—had some one told her that in less than a year she would find herself the painstaking mistress of a district school, and devoting all her fortune to the single object of educating her then almost unknown brother for the ministry? As she contrasted her thoughts and feelings and pleasures then, with those which possessed her now, the present seemed like a dream, and she almost expected to wake in the old familiar room at W.

But the striking clock warned her that it was time to wake and dress Pauline for church.

Before breakfast, the whole family, including Ruby-Anne, assembled in the library, when, after reading a portion of Scripture and singing a hymn, they all knelt in prayer—the first time that the family-altar had ever been erected under that roof. The absent father was not forgotten in their petitions, and then it was that Edah first felt a hope that the wanderer might one day return to the family he had forsaken, a wiser and better man.

There was not much conversation at breakfast, for all were occupied with their own thoughts. Mrs. Champlin alone seemed unconcerned, and Edah exerted herself to entertain and amuse her mother, in order that the others might be left to their own reflections.

The children felt no fear at leaving their mother alone in the house: although her derangement had become more decided in its character, she was more quiet than formerly, and much easier to manage, employing herself chiefly in reading and writing, to which last she had lately taken a great fancy, which they took care to encourage. Edah had purchased a pretty new desk for her in New York, well furnished with conveniences and elegancies. This she now placed before her for the first time; and as she witnessed the childish delight with which she examined it, and began arranging its contents, she felt satisfied that Mrs. Champlin was provided with an agreeable employment for the whole day.

They proceeded to church, hoping to be there early, but were surprised to find nearly the whole congregation collected. The choir, well drilled in their respective parts, were assembled round the organ, with their books in their hands; and little Jacob Crampton, who had received the appointment of organ-blower, was at his post, with his hand on the handle, feeling all the pride of office, and ready to commence operations as soon as he should receive the signal.

A good many little heads, and some large ones, were twisted round, when Edah began the voluntary, and all her resolves could not keep her from feeling a little nervous, but she acquitted herself to her own tolerable satisfaction, and to the evident delight of her hearers. She had felt some anxiety about her choir, as they were all young, and some of them had never heard chanting before; but all went off exceedingly well, especially the Easter Chant, "Christ our Passover, is sacrificed for us." And after the first was through, she began to feel at ease, and at liberty to give her attention to something else.

After the close of the second lesson, Mr. Laurence advanced to the chancel rails, and requested the candidates for Baptism to come forward with their sponsors. There was a stir in the little congregation, as bonnets were removed and Prayer-Books taken: one group waited for another, and finally, by a simultaneous movement, all together rose and advanced up the aisle. Mr. Bell went with his two boys, as he called them, Robert Raymond and John Downing; Mrs. Bell with her unmarried sister who had spent part of the winter with her; Edah accompanied her sister and Ruby-Anne, while Mr. Stuart was Sam's chosen witness. The others were Mrs. Hildreth, Mr. Crampton, with his wife and apprentice, black Jacob's eldest daughter Sally, two of Edah's school-girls, and last not least Charley Strong, whose pale face and wasted figure perhaps attracted more notice than all the rest. It was the first time he had appeared in Brooksville since the Sunday when Mr. Downing had seen him riding home with Mr. Laurence from church.

The candidates and their witnesses made quite a crowd around the chancel, where they remained standing till a short address had been made and a hymn sung, when they returned to their seats, and the service continued: A stranger would have been struck by the great earnestness with which the responses were made, and the unanimity with which the congregation rose and knelt. This was in a great measure owing to Edah's example, and that of the children and young people whom she had instructed.

We have been before now in Episcopal churches, where the responses were only a faint inarticulate murmur, and where the congregation paid so little attention to the prescribed position that we had some difficulty in realizing where we were. It may perhaps be a matter of minor importance, but we do confess a dislike to see one-half the congregation sitting during the Psalms and Hymns, and not rising even at the Gloria Patri, or the Creed. It may undoubtedly be the case that some persons are unable to stand through the Te Deum and we have now and then, when in feeble health, been obliged to sit down before the close of the Psalms; but we can hardly imagine that any one who is well enough to come to church at all should be unable to maintain the proper position during the recitation of the Apostles' Creed.

Mr. Laurence's sermon was appropriate to the occasion; and at the close of it, he addressed himself particularly to those who were then and there to receive the Communion for the first time. He exhorted them always to remember the profession which they had just made, and the vows which they had taken upon themselves. He reminded them that they had not only renounced the service of the world, but they had taken upon themselves the service of God, and they were bound to labor for Him and for His Church, as long as they remained on the earth, looking unto Him for strength and wisdom to do His work. He bade them remember that they were no longer their own, but bought with a precious price, and that henceforth they had no right, as they should have no desire, to live to themselves. Whatever they ate or drank, or whatever they did, they were to do all to the glory of God: in the workshop or in the field—at home or abroad—in their places of business or in the house of God—they were to have Him always before them, and to lose no opportunity of advancing His cause, with their time, their means, and their talents. Thus when they came to render up their account, they would do it with joy and not with grief, and though they might perchance go forth weeping, and bearing their precious seed, they would surely come again with joy and great gladness, bringing their sheaves with them.

"God," said he, "has been pleased by the exertions of a faithful few to set His Church in this place, so long without the sound of the Gospel. The little seed, planted in faith and self-denial, has sprung up and begun to bear fruit; it will depend greatly upon you, whether the plant shall become a great tree, so that the fowls of the air may lodge in the branches thereof, or whether it shall wither for lack of earth and moisture. Should this ever happen, your last state will be worse than the first; but I trust it will never be. Stand, then, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness, and your feet shod with the preparation of the Gospel of Peace; above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench the fiery darts of the wicked, and take the Helmet of Salvation and the Sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. Be faithful and watch unto prayer, yea, be faithful, and He who has called you from death unto life shall give you a crown of glory in that day when He shall come to judge both the quick and the dead, saying—

"'Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. Ye have been faithful over a few things—I will make you ruler over many things; enter ye into the joy of your Lord!'"

[Illustration]

Our task is done for the present. We have traced in these pages the path of a young girl, with no peculiar advantages, with some faults, and many weaknesses. We have seen her, though professedly and by Baptism a member of Christ, spending some of her best years in forgetfulness of Him. We have seen her suddenly aroused by the power of the Spirit of God, alive to a sense of her great sin, seeking instruction, and finding at last peace in believing. We have seen her acting no more from the caprice of the moment, from a refined selfishness, or, at best, from simple good impulses, but guiding all her actions by the one great principle of glorifying God. We have seen her under the influence of this motive, renouncing innocent and refined pleasures for the sake of nursing the sick, comforting the afflicted, and teaching the ignorant—bearing with misconstruction and ridicule, overcoming evil with good, and perverseness with love, till we have seen, at last, a family-altar raised, where once the name of God was never spoken, save in profanity, and a well-filled church adorning the beautiful valley, where, for many years, there had been a famine, not of bread nor of water, but of hearing the word of the Lord. And now may the Author be permitted to linger a moment longer, for the purpose of saying a few words to the younger part of her readers, and especially those of her own sex?

You, my dear young friends, have put on Christ in Baptism, and been signed with the Sign of the Cross, in token that hereafter you might not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified. Many have acknowledged, in the solemn rite of Confirmation, that the promises made in your name at your Baptism are binding upon you. Some of you, perchance, have even received the Sacrament of Christ's most blessed Body and Blood. Will you not now pause and ask yourselves, in all honesty and sincerity,—

"What am I doing to fulfil my baptismal vow? How many battles have I ever fought under Christ's banner against sin, the world, and the devil? Has the coming of that blessed time when all shall know Him, from the least to the greatest, ever been hastened one moment by my exertions? Have I, since I became a member of Christ's Church, ever made one sacrifice, or denied myself one gratification, or labored one hour for the salvation of souls?"

I fear there are many, yes, some even of my own acquaintance, who cannot honestly answer these questions in the affirmative. To such I would say, Is not your position rather a singular one? Members of Christ, yet having none of His Spirit; heirs of God, and living as if you had no hope and no expectation of any thing beyond this life; inheritors of the Kingdom of Heaven, yet with all your treasures upon earth! Now, if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of His; and dare you say that you have that Spirit, when you have never yet spent one hour as He spent all his hours when He was here among men? He purchased His Church with His own blood: you have never yet lifted a finger for it; and can you, then, imagine that your Church-membership will be any thing to you but a savor of death unto death?

Nor can you properly plead as your justification ignorance of the way to do good. Wilful ignorance is no excuse, and yours must be wilful if it exist at all. A little thought might show you more ways than one in which you might be useful, and your pastor is always ready to advise you, and put you in the right way. Is there a Sunday School in your parish, and if there is, what have you done for it? If you are a pupil, do you set an example of regular attendance and good lessons? Do you pray for your teachers and your classmates? If you are a teacher, are you doing all you can, by study, by prayer, by regular attendance, and by visiting your pupils, for the good of your class? If you are not a teacher, cannot you become one? Are there no young people of your acquaintance to whom you may say a word upon the all-important subject of personal religion? Are there no poor children coming to your door with baskets to beg, over whom you may obtain an influence for good—whom you may teach to read and to sew—whom you may persuade to attend the Sunday School, and clothe decently that they may be able to do so?

I have mentioned but a few out of the many ways of doing good that constantly surround us, but I shall wonder if, even in this short catalogue, there cannot be found some work that you can do—something that, perhaps, you have never yet thought of doing. Then put your hand to the work, and be not discouraged nor faint, though you find it hard and unpromising at first, and though in the course of months you may seem to effect nothing. Be no longer the barren fig-tree, which only occupies uselessly the garden of the Lord, lest He should one day say—

"Behold, I come these many years seeking fruit, and finding none. Cut it down: why cumbereth it the ground?"

Rather let it be said of you, as was said of one of old, whose memorial was to be cherished wherever the Gospel was preached—"She hath done what she could."

FINIS.