CHAPTER III.
PROFESSION AND PRACTICE.
"MIND now that you manage to give the old woman the slip, and have a jolly night of it with your friend Sophy Puller—" such were the words with which Dan Peele parted from his sister, as she set out with the sailor on her long walk back to the county town in which her mistress resided.
It was a glorious evening. The sun had just stink below the horizon, but lines of glowing fire showed where his orb had dipped below the blue hills, and his beams had left a rich rosy flush on the clouds that floated above.
Ned Franks, as he gazed on that beautiful sky, felt that the young girl who tripped on by his side shared his sense of peaceful enjoyment.
Norah was the first to break silence. "I do like to look on such a sunset," she said, adding softly, "it makes one think of heaven."
"The home we're bound for," said Ned.
"I hope so," murmured Norah, in a tone that was scarcely above a whisper.
"And how do you think we are ever to get to heaven?" asked the sailor.
"Oh, surely you know!" answered Norah, with some surprise at the question, since, from several words dropped by himself in the course of the day, and from what she had heard of him from her mother, Norah had judged her uncle to be a very religious man. "My mistress has often told me that all believers go to heaven, because the Lord Jesus died for them, and has washed away all their sins."
"Right, quite right," said the sailor fervently; "that's the pole—star Faith always points to, that's what we must always keep in view. But who are believers, Norah? Though heaven lie straight afore us all, I take it that few will be so bold as to say that all who are called Christians will get to heaven."
Norah did not answer for two or three minutes, and then said, "Are not believers those who love the Lord Jesus Christ?"
"Right again!" cried Ned Franks. "And now tell me, Norah, is it not true that when we love any one much, we are ready and glad to do something for his sake?"
"Oh! Yes, indeed!" exclaimed Norah. "I've often thought that. I should like to do something for the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ. I was lately reading to my mistress of the early martyrs, and then it seemed to be such a great and noble thing to die for religion."
"It is just as great and noble a thing, Norah, my girl, to live for religion, and that is what all believers must do; for we only deceive ourselves when we think that without obedience to God we have either true faith or love."
"I don't quite know what you mean," said Norah.
"Do you remember the words of Christ? 'He that taketh not his cross and followeth after Me, is not worthy of Me.'" *
* Matthew x. 38
"I can't tell what my cross is," said Norah, "nor how I can take it up."
"We take up our cross whenever we do for conscience what we would not do for pleasure," observed Ned, "or when we give up for the Lord's sake what we would willingly have for our own. To come to the point, Norah—for I like plain sailing, and you'll understand twenty times better if I speak of a simple fact—would you mind telling me frankly whether Mrs. Martin gave you that tea?"
"No," replied Norah, faintly.
"Thank God, she at least is truthful," thought the sailor.
"And did you," he continued aloud, "buy that tea for your mother?"
Norah silently shook her head.
"Then tell me, child, how did you get it?"
Ned bent down his tall head, but could scarcely catch the low answer, "I took it."
"Just what I feared," said Ned Franks.
"But indeed—indeed," cried Norah Peele, "I did not know that I was doing so wrong! I would not have touched money or anything like that, but—but mistress would never miss it, I thought, and mother always expects some little present when I come home, and I've nothing to spare out of my wages, and so many, many do the same thing. I never was told that it was such a sin!"
"Did not conscience tell you, my child? Did not the Word of God tell you? Where it exhorts 'servants to be obedient unto their own masters, and to please them well in all things; not answering again, NOT PURLOINING, but shewing all good fidelity, that they may adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things.'" *
* Titus ii. 9-10.
"I did wrong, very wrong," murmured Norah, "but it is so difficult to deny one's self, and to deny others, and always to keep duty before one, however hard it may be."
"That is our cross," observed Ned.
"But I thought," said Norah, "indeed I'm sure, that both my mistress and the clergyman have said over and over again, that the Lord bore the cross for us, and that now we've nothing to do to earn our own salvation; we've just to believe, and we're safe."
"Do you forget what the Bible says, 'the devils also believe and tremble.'" *
"They do not believe and love, as we do."
"They do not believe and obey as we must do, Norah. What were the words of the Lord to those whom He called to be His disciples, were they not, 'follow Me'? And if we follow the Holy Saviour, think you it can be on a path of sin? God forbid! Nay, St John says, 'Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin.' † We must put on the breastplate of righteousness, if we would follow the Lord."
* James ii. 9 † 1 John iii. 9.
"But no one, not the best, has nothing more to do with sin," murmured Norah.
"True enough," said Ned Franks, stopping in his walk, as if to give more force to his words, "but they have to do with it as an enemy, not as a master, they have to fight it, not to obey. Look you here, Norah," continued the sailor, seeking an illustration from objects most familiar to his own mind; "if you and I saw a frigate, with the Union Jack of old England floating aloft, would we not say at once that she was a British vessel?"
"Yes," replied Norah, wondering at the abrupt turn in the conversation.
"But if we saw her, with all sails set, making right for a Russian port, and if we could see through a glass that there were Russian sailors in the rigging, a Russian pilot at the helm, a Russian captain giving commands, should we believe that the frigate was English, if half-a-dozen Union Jacks were hoisted from the mast?"
"No," replied Norah, quickly, "we should think that the flags were hung up for a sham."
"And it is a sham, nothing but a sham," exclaimed Ned, walking on again, and faster than before, "for man, woman, or child to set up Christian profession, when they care nothing for Christian practice; to hang out, as it were, the flag of the Cross, while self-will steers where Satan directs, and they're hearing right on for the rock of destruction."
"Think you that a real Christian would willingly hold parley with any sin, far less welcome it upon deck? No, it is his enemy, his Saviour's enemy, which he must resist to the death. If it tries to board, as 'tis always trying, he must yield it not a foot, not an inch; he must hurl it over the bulwarks, throw it into the sea, give no quarter to sin, in the name and in the strength of the Great Captain of his salvation!" Ned's tone was raised, his eyes flashed, and he instinctively clenched his hand as thus, in figurative language, he described the Christian's secret struggle against sin.
Norah felt roused and animated, though she hardly realised the full meaning of what the sailor had said.
"Do you not think," asked the girl after a short pause, "that it is not easy for us always to tell what is sin and what is not? People view the same thing in such different ways."
"It seems easy enough to me," replied the simple-minded tar. "We've not to trouble ourselves with what this person thinks, or that person fancies, but come straight for our sailing orders to the Lord. Is that what He would approve? Is that what He would have done in my place? I guess, Norah, that you would not have taken that tea had you known that your mistress's eye was upon you, much less had you felt that your heavenly Captain looked on."
Norah drooped her head, and was silent.
"So you see, dear child," continued Ned, "that we've a daily battle to fight, and a daily cross to take up, if our faith is a real thing, if our religion be not a sham. The Lord's Cross was the cross of sacrifice, no one but Himself could bear that, and that He endured for our sakes; our cross is the cross of daily self-denial, which we must take up for His sake. If we've anything, great or small, that is displeasing to our Lord, be it a bad habit, a sinful pleasure, a foolish companion, or even a book, we must give it up at once, and for ever. A Christian must be holy, for his Master is holy; he must wear the breastplate of righteousness, the guard for the heart against sin."
"I should like to wear it," said Norah, whose thoughts had lately been more turned to the subject of religion than they had ever been in her childhood's home.
"Then I've but one more bit of advice for you, my girl," cried the sailor; "'tis one I should like you to get from wiser lips than mine. Ask the Lord for that breastplate of righteousness, for one that will stand rough work and hard blows; don't trust in any pasteboard good resolutions of your own."
And with this simple but important word of counsel, Ned Franks closed a conversation which was to leave a lasting impression upon the mind of his youthful niece.