"FAR AWAY." "The land that is very far off."—Isaiah xxxiii. 17. UPON the shore of evermore We sport like children at their play, Upon that beach nor voice nor speech But through our souls a whisper rolls, Into our ears the voice of years Comes deeper, deeper day by day; At what it tells we drop the shells And o'er that tide, far out and wide, We long to go, we do not know The mighty deep doth slowly creep Our playmates all, beyond our call, We'll trust the wave, and Him to save, Tales and Sketches. "FAR HAPPIER THAN THE | ding to them, year by year, of such LAST; " 02, THE MINISTER'S NEW YEAR. A STORY FOR THE FIRST OF JANUARY. Is the not very famous market-town of Estbury, some five-and-twenty year ago, there was a short and narrow street, blocked up at one end by what the rector of the parish called " an unsightly conventicle." "Unsightly" the Dissenters' meeting-house might be it had been erected by the voluntary efforts of a people scarcely higher in worldly rank than the Apostles; but a conventicle-if by that word is meant a place of unlawfal meeting-it was not. In this house of prayer, a true servant of God had for thirty years held the office of pastor to a church numbering from 150 to 180 members. And, although there were those in the town who refused acknowledge it, God had manifested his approval of that faithful servant's labours by restoring to their right minds, through his instrumentality, not a few of the perverse and irreligious of that neighbourhood. Changed in heart, and reformed in life, these grateful converts had not only professed their faith in Christ, but devoted themselves to his service. And, although necessarily imperfect, pastor and people had been so knit together in the bonds of Christian love, and, above all, so strong in faith, giving glory to God, that, in their conflicts with the various forms of evil, against which they were set in array, as of battle, by the Captain of Salvation, they had come off, like the saints of old, Him who loved them: the Lord admore than conquerors," through as should be saved. At the time of which I write, however, these bright days had gone by -to return, as not a few of the elder members sadly feared, no more! The good pastor, long so helpful to his flock, had been now for some two years dead. In his place had come a young and inexperienced, though sincere and earnest man, whose lengthened and-to him-very trying preaching and practice, during a season of probation, had been such as to induce more than three-fourths of the members to believe that his settlement amongst them was the best thing possible, "under present circumstances." Mr. Manly-such is the name by which the new minister must be known to our readerswas a stranger in Estbury, and, moreover, a student of retiring disposition. He could rise with a noble enthusiasm from his study chair, and address an imaginary audience in very eloquent language; but in the pulpit-save on rare occasions-there was upon him that unworthy emotion described in the Scriptures as "the fear of man, which bringeth a snare." He could talk and pray with the suffering poor, or with the few inquirers to whom his faithful declarations of God's truth had been made useful; but in a drawing room, amongst the well-to-do members of his flock, he was simply a unit, speaking little, although always to the purpose; never taking the lead, even in a circle younger than himself; pleasure in society. He would call above all, never looking as if he found on the sick and bereaved in their affliction, but the smallest check, the mere ghost of a suspicion that he с was intruding, would suffice to render it impossible that such a call should be repeated. As to visiting people in health for the purpose of sympathizing with their joys and sorrows, that was out of the question. He had tried it at first, but had found-or thought he found himself powerless to stem the tide of general conversation, in order to introduce, without stiffness or affectation, the great subject of religion. About his sermons people would have talked without any prompting-if he had let them; but that was just what he could not and would not endure. So it came to pass that as the first twelve months of their connection rolled away, the church members learned gradually to look upon their minister as a man who held himself in no small degree above them. "He is proud," said one; upon that you may depend! Why, he called at our house for a subscription one evening lately, and as soon as he heard that my brother John was there, taking supper with us, he went off again, without so much as sitting down! "My brother John" was the doorkeeper at BStreet, and it was worthy Mrs. Wick, the grocer's wife, who, in her ignorance of human character, thus misjudged the unsuspecting minister. Truth to tell, Mr. Manly would have had no objection whatever to a seat opposite my brother John" in that cosy parlour behind the shop, whence, at nine every evening, smells so savoury were wont to come; but he feared to thrust himself, solitary bachelor as he was, upon the privacy of a family party. Small events like this happened now so frequently, and the pastor's reserve so often led to a misapprehension of his motives, that a coldness began to manifest itself even amongst those who had been his warmest partisans; while a few, who, to adopt their favourite phrase, "had never cared about him from the first," boldly hinted at approaching change. Things were in this state when the new year came drearily in; not robed, as in "the good old time," in a mantle of purest snow, but in yellow mist and drizzling rain. Mr. Manly sat alone in his parlour, and left untasted the cup of chocolate which his landlady-he was so unfortunate as to live in lodgings— had put before him. He had known in the past, though so young, more than one great sorrow. Graves had shut from his sight both his parents, and one dearer yet; but, through it all, his faith had been unshaken. Now, however, under this new trial of estrangement from the people whom he loved, he was impatient, a sure sign of want of trust in God; and, instead of praying, he grew angry with himself, with the church, possibly even with the Providence which had brought him to that cul-de-sac, B-Street. It was a moment of severe temptation. What, he asked, had he done to deserve this withdrawal of confidence on the part of church and congregation ? Could it be altogether his fault that so few of his people came to him, as to a friend and brother, for advice and sympathy? Had he not shown by his preaching that his heart was full of affection for them and theirs? Had he not been willing to be truly, nay, even humbly, their servant, for the Master's sake? Why, of all things in the world, should they insist on believing-as he was told they did that he was much too proud and high to mingle with them? There had been a prayer-meeting at the chapel on the previous night (on New Year's Eve), and in some of the prayers Mr. Manly had heard, or thought he heard, an echo of his own sad thoughts. "Unite thou this people henceforth to their minister in bonds of love"-so had prayed one of the elders of the church :-" Send down the spirit of Elijah upon Elisha, we beseech thee, and enable us so to practise what we preach and profess, as that this year may be far happier than the last!" These were some of the words which had given the young and sensitive pastor so much pain, and compelled him to ask if the fault of his non-success in visitation had not been at least in part his own. This doubt, aided by the voice of God within, at last led him also to pray, with intense desire, that the new year might become a holier time, in which pastor and people, alike influenced of Heaven, should love one another with a pure heart fersently. For himself he entreated guidance, with a passionate earnestness. Sooner far than his weak faith expected, guidance came. Da the opposite side of the same street was a large house occupied by a physician, who was himself an Episcopalian, but whose sister (the wife of a naval officer, residing with him) was a Dissenter. Making an entry in her journal on this first morning of the year, Mrs. Stanhope had noted down amongst duties to be fulfilled, that of making more serious effort to be friendly (in the Christian sense of the word) with the young minister whose preaching had induced her to take sittings in the B Street Chapel. In her former home this lady had been accustomed to receive very frequent visits from her pastor; and they had been visits rich in consolation-she had been bereaved of all her children-often closed with prayer. Whose fault was it that Mr. Manly's calls had been as ceremonious as the other's were refressing and delightful? Mrs. Stanhope was willing to admit that she might, in part, be blameworthy in this; but the chief error was still, in her opinion, with the minister. He is naturally so reserved," she had remarked that new year's morning to her brother, that I believe it will be only by a very severe 66 effort, under the guidance and in the strength of God, that he will succeed in becoming a true pastor, that is, one who knows his flock and cares for them, as far as possible, as individuals, as well as in the aggregate." And the doctor, smiling, had replied, "Ah, we manage these things better in the church." At which his sister laughed with great good humour. Some few hours after this, and as the minister was engaged in giving orders for his modest dinner, a genteel knock," as the landlady called it, interrupted him. He had scarcely time to thrust back his hair and administer a useless poke to his neglected fire, when a lady in deep mourning entered. "Mrs. Stanhope!" " The lady, affecting not to notice his discomfiture, held out her hand with the usual new year's wish. One glance round the room had been enough to over helm her with selfreproach. What a contrast between that uncomfortable lodging-house sitting-room and the pleasant breakfast-parlour in hich she had decided that the minister was chiefly to blame for the want of confidence manifested by his people! As she sat talking with him about the weather, which was, as a matter of course, their introductory subject, Mrs. Stanhope became seriously interested in the question of the minister's income. Had she not heard a rumour that, in order to build new school-rooms, the careful elders had limited the new pastor's stipend to less than the half of that enjoyed by his predecessor? What if that rumour should be truth? What if some of the reserve which she had so earnestly deplored should have had its origin in a disregard of the apostolic precept that the labourer is worthy of his hire? "I ought certainly to have thought of this before," mused Mrs. Stanhope. "Every member of a Chris tian church should feel an interest in the pastor's income, and be willing to deny himself in order that it may be sufficient. I will see Mr. Oldhame on the subject this very morning.” Mr. Oldhame was the senior deacon, and his respect for Mrs. Stanhope was extreme. "You were not at the prayermeeting last night, I think?" said the minister, who thought his visitor somewhat absent-minded. 66 66 we No," replied the lady, coming back from her brief reverie; had friends with us. But Cook tells me that you had a good meeting? Cook was one of the B- Street people, too. "Yes, more earnest than usual," said the pastor, and then he sighed. He was thinking about Elijah and Elisha. "I shall come to the lecture tonight," said the visitor, presently, "and I hope to induce my brother to come also." Mr. Manly did not even look grateful. "And you'll come and dine with us first, will you not, Mr. Manly ?" No, indeed, you must really excuse me. I have other engagements,"-as indeed he had, in behalf of the poor. "Mr. Manly," said Mrs. Stanhope, earnestly, "I don't ask you to pay us a visit of mere ceremony. Doctor Wyse takes an interest in your labours for the poor, and would help you, I am sure, by his advice and sympathy, as well as, more substantially, by contributions. As for me, I have no other friend whom I could ask to pray with me; and at times, when I think of my children, I need you greatly." There was a pathos in the tone with which these closing words were spoken that was not lost upon the minister. Suddenly, as he watched her silent grief, there broke upon him a new light. It was strange, most strange and sad, but he had never realized it before, that in the houses of the well-to-do, as well as in the huts of the lowly, a Christian minister has at all times a noble sphere. Hitherto he had supposed that in his visits to those of his flock who were far removed from the pressure of want, he had been less engaged in his Master's work than when passing to and fro amongst the poor. 66 Would you like me to pray with you now," said he, some few minutes later, as I really cannot come tonight?" I should indeed," was the reply. Whereupon Mr. Manly prayed as he had never prayed before in the presence of any human creature ; for the first time in his life allowing himself to recollect his own peculiar griefs while in the presence of another, so far as to reveal to that other that he, too, was being trained by suffering. Mrs. Stanhope's tears fell as she listened, but there was no bitterness in her grief, for on wings of faith she rose to a perception of the truth that all things work together for good to them that love God; and while uniting in that prayer found again the rest for which she had so long been seeking- even the rest of an unquestioning trust in her Redeemer. Half an hour went by, and the minister was again alone, but this time a look of joy was in his face. He had learned in that new year's morning the secret of true pastoral visitation; and henceforth, God helping him, all the members of his flock, rich and poor alike, should interest him individually as well as collectively. He would strive manfully, by God's help, with his natural reserve; he would wrestle in prayer for wisdom to direct him in every case; he would aim at nothing less than the spiritual advantage of each and all; he would rise above the undue consideration of this member's approval or the other's disapproval, and know nothing among men save Christ and him crucified. Not in |