THE RURAL PASTORATE.

153

ear, but the psalm goes direct to heaven, for it speaks the language of the heart! The toil-tired peasantry, feeling that the Sabbath is a gift from the Father in heaven, hail the day as a blessing both to body and soul. They listen with noiseless attention to the reading of the inspired lesson from the sacred pages, some of them, with the open Bible in their hands, keeping their eye on the words. They unite, silently, but with spiritual earnestness, in the pastor's petitions, offered in the well-known name of his Master and theirs, and love him for the fervour with which he asks good things for them all. Unused to the critic's profession, they seek not the charms of poetry, logic, and eloquence in the discourse from the pulpit, but the higher attributes of fidelity, earnestness, and truth. Strangers to the theological disputes which have shaken the world concerning the meaning of certain words and phrases, they receive with confidence the instruction of their teacher, and return to their cottages wiser and better men.

"One man there was, and many such you might
Have met, who never had a dozen thoughts
In all his life, and never changed their course;
But told them o'er, each in its customed place,
From morn to night, from youth to hoary age.
The word philosophy he never heard,

Or science; never heard of liberty,
Necessity, or laws of gravitation;

And never had an unbelieving doubt.

He lived

Lived where his father lived, died where he died-
Lived happy and died happy, and was saved.
Be not surprised-he loved and served his God."

Yes, the rural pastorate is a fine theme for the imagination of the tale-writer and the poet. Goldsmith, Cowper, Crabbe, Pollock, Longfellow, and a host of others have sketched it, sung it, praised it, and it remains an attraction still, especially to those who see it from a distance.

But from the pen of the historian people expect facts rather than fancy pictures, and grave truth rather than romantic sketches. I am an ardent lover of the beautiful in nature, and of the poetry of life, even to the verge of idolatry; but, in the present instance, as I am about to record five years' experience as a village pastor, and as the profession of a Christian teacher involves relations of the most sacred kind, I should consider it a positive crime either to colour the attractions or to exaggerate the privations, difficulties, and sorrows of the rural pastorate. Besides, this chapter should have been very brief, but for the hope that it may help to secure increased attention, on the part of wealthy Christians and influential churches, to the religious condition of the agricultural population-to lighten somewhat the burden that presses the heart of many worthy pastors to the earth-to raise the question whether, with our world-wide benevolence, we have weighed in a just balance the claims of Home-and to draw the scattered influences of the Christian brotherhood into closer union, and therefore more powerful action. The chief religious denominations of this country are numerically strong; but numerical strength, without harmonious co-operation, is practically useless in the day of conflict. And whilst, on the part of the feeble, there is jealousy of the encroachment of centralization, with its impudent offspringdictation, and, on the part of the strong, comparative indifference to claims which roll not across deserts and seas from the lands of demon-worship, the hope of overtaking, with thoroughly evangelical influence, the half-civilised masses of our peasantry is vain. I speak advisedly, having stood on both sides of the hedge, and examined the field narrowly. From the very heart of Heathendom springs up the cry of agony, "Come over and help us!" It is perilous to shut our ears to that cry. Spiritual dearth, blight, and ruin will visit us if we do.

But is there no voice that asks, "Where is the flock that was given thee; thy beautiful flock?" Is a claim urgent in the ratio of its distance? Surely, homefields, "white to the harvest," should be gathered before the storms of winter come upon them, especially seeing that the elasticity of Christian benevolence can do this without diminishing the number of labourers on foreign shores. High-churchism, Popery, and Mormonism, each zealous in its work, are diligently imbuing the ill-taught multitude with their respective forms of fanaticism, while Evangelism lifts up a protest in words without corresponding action; and, alas! when it does act, the preposterous mutual jealousy of Churches that are really teaching the same essential truths, comes in to nullify its exertions. The poor village pastor, except he be a man of uncommon faith and strong mind, has his energies exhausted by the incessant action of corroding care. He reads of the glories of "voluntaryism," and is expected to echo its praises, while his wife and children are ill clothed and worse fed,-like a debtor in the Queen's Bench admiring the exploits of a "fortunate" gold-digger. He hears of princely donations to projects whose utility remains to be tested by experience, whilst he, who is engaged in a work to which the Lord of heaven has set the seal of approbation, cannot afford to send his eldest boy to a humble school. He peruses, in a borrowed newspaper, eloquent speeches from the lips of the Reverends A.M., LL.D., and D.D., delivered at the opening of the loudly-lauded Brother Successful's new "church," and finds that the building is a marvellous exhibition of architectural skill-that the painted windows are the admiration of all-that the twelve apostles are faultless-that the pulpit is a gem rarely equalled that the lofty spire can be seen for many miles that the bells are the sweetest toned that ever welcomed wanderer to the fold of Christ-that the

156

PAINFUL REFLECTIONS.

noble organ is the most superb instrument ever built by the celebrated firm of Harmony and Sons-that the completed structure cost the "really moderate" sum of seven thousand pounds-and that, in consequence of the fabulous power of the "voluntary principle," the whole is out of debt; a peroration which is applauded by sundry "Hear, hears! and prolonged cheering." I say, the village pastor reads all this, whilst at the same moment he is trembling lest a rap at the door should announce the arrival of the poor-rate collector, whom he cannot face, or the village grocer, whose bill has reached the appalling figure of five pounds, being exactly the tenth of the poor man's annual income.

Mr. Successful is an able and true man, of high standing and unstained character, and the village pastor unfeignedly rejoices in the facts relating to him; but it is impossible, for all that, to prevent the intrusion of reflections of a painful kind on the continuance of struggles in the service of the gospel, which that same vaunted voluntaryism might have terminated long ago, without weakening its powerful spring.

"But there is no reason in the world," said one, "why wealthy Christians should not erect costly places of worship. The money is their own; they exercise no compulsion on their neighbours; and the result is, after all, an illustration of voluntaryism."

"You are right, Sir," I replied; "there is no reason in the world why they should not. On the contrary, the world is just the authority likely to patronise the thing by an approving smile. The multiplication of ornate edifices, even though they are consecrated to the service of religion, is one of the things that the world will most surely applaud; for they add to the appearance and importance of cities, and proclaim the wealth and taste of the citizens; and, in the end, they will injure

CHRISTIAN VOLUNTARYISM.

157

the very object they seem to facilitate, by fostering a worldly and a selfish spirit. But if there be no reason in the world why the surplus gold of the prosperous should not build for itself monumental towers, is there none in the true idea of Christian benevolence; none in the solemn fact of Christian stewardship; and none in the wants and woes of neglected human souls ?"

"Well, there may be something in that," said my friend; "but you will allow that those buildings illustrate the power of voluntaryism very clearly."

"Undoubtedly," I replied, "of voluntaryism, inasmuch, as the parties who built them were willing to do so, otherwise they could not have been built; but voluntaryism is a term of wide import, and it is frequently illustrated on a still grander scale by mercantile companies in their gorgeous warehouses, and by mere men of the world in the pursuit of short-lived pleasures. But I speak of Christian voluntaryism-a principle which gives its gifts and does its deeds for the sake of Christ, and disinterestedly; but that the glory of Christ, or the good of human souls, is advanced by the cloud-wreathed spire, or the 'dim religious light' of the stained window, no rational being will pretend; and instead of the idea of disinterestedness being suggested by those imposing temples, they suggest the painful thought of religious pride, shrinking from the simplicity of the puritanic sanctuary, and trying to rival the architectural extravagance af a system which derives its funds from the national wealth."

"Oh, come, be charitable."

"Want of charity is not a fault with which I am usually charged; but it is a matter of fact, that passersby and disinterested persons make the remark to which I have alluded."

"That may be; but our modern chapels add to the respectability of dissent, and give it a social status which it never had before."