I NEED hardly remind you that my life was a busy one; but my whole heart was in my work, and for the two or three years that followed nothing very remarkable happened. Then a keenly-felt sorrow came in the removal by death of the godly clergyman whose ministry had been used in my conversion. He had always been very kind to me, and I had learned to love and value him as a personal friend. For some months before his home-call he seemed to have been losing strength, and did not come among us as he had been used to do; then we heard that, owing to increased weakness, he was unable to leave his room; still he always appeared cheerful, and though for some weeks he could not rise from his bed, he still wrote and sent messages of encouragement to young Christians, or urged the need of decision for Christ on some about whom he had been long anxious.
I do not think any one really believed (I am sure I did not) that we should hear his voice no more. The spring was coming, and with warmer weather he would, we hoped, gain strength. But his work on earth was done, and I think he knew it long before we did. He was mercifully spared much suffering, but day by day he grew weaker and his son was sent for; when he arrived all saw the end was near. Mr. S— was, however, able to welcome him, and lay very still with closed eyes for some time. Then rousing himself he said with effort, "Pray, pray," and before the voice of prayer had ceased he peacefully fell asleep in Christ.
I do not think I really grieved for him, for I knew he was safe home with the Savior he had long loved and faithfully preached to others; but though I knew quite a number of people, my circle of friends was by no means a large one, and a sense of loneliness seemed to creep over me. I see now that it was just another link in the chain by which the Lord intended to draw me more closely to Himself. While my sorrow for the death of Mr. S—was still fresh, I received a visit which, though I did not in any way foresee it, was to influence my whole after-life.
I was asked if I would teach Braille to a single pupil at her own home; I knew something of the applicant, having met her once or twice, and often heard of her as, though unconnected with any society for the relief of the blind, a quiet worker among them. Her wish to learn Braille was from a desire to correspond with or write to some of her sightless friends who had gone to live at a distance. Slight as our acquaintance had been I had already hoped it might some day ripen into friendship, and the opportunity seemed too good to be lost. So I consented gladly. Saturday afternoons were at that time free for both teacher and pupil; our lessons were arranged for that day, and as the lessons were almost always followed by a pleasant walk, I soon learned to look forward to them as among my happiest hours.
Some things about my new friend puzzled me greatly. I had known from our first meeting that she did not attend any of the local churches or chapels, but, what I then thought very strange, met with Christians who gave a large place to what I then called "holy communion," but to which I soon found they gave a more scriptural name, "the breaking of bread." I heard, too, much that was new to me in connection with the return of the Lord Jesus. I had, it is true, often heard of His coming, but if I had been asked its object, I should most likely have answered, "to judge the quick and the dead." But I learned that before He came as Judge, He would come to claim “His own." Then, O grand and glorious hope, sleeping saints would be raised, and those still living on the earth changed to meet their Lord in the air.
You must not think that I learned all this at once, for my new friend was careful not to force anything. She listened with kindly interest to all I told her about what I still called "my church," but I was not long in finding that "musical evenings and social entertainments" had no attraction for her. Soon after my pupil could read and write Braille with tolerable ease, she was asked to help a lady with whom she was associated in christian fellowship, in conducting a Braille-type Magazine, called "Gleams from the Lamp," to be sent free of charge to several blind people we knew, the object being to help them to a clearer understanding of some Bible truths. I was employed to make some copies of its first numbers, and though the work has long since grown much too large to be done without the aid of a Braille printing-press, I can never forget how in a pleasant morning room at Forest Hill we three talked and prayed over its first issue.
Perhaps I was not quite prepared for all I had to learn from the dots over which, in copying, my fingers had to pass so often, but one thing impressed me deeply. It was that the Lord Jesus is still rejected. I had, from babyhood, or very early childhood, been taught to think of Him as honored and accepted by all, except the heathen, to whom missionaries were sent. Every church spire pointing heavenward was, I had been told, a reminder that I lived in a Christian land. Yet all, I felt sure, were not Christians. I could not understand it at first, so I began to ask questions, which were, I found, always answered by an appeal to the written word of God. So I began to read my Bible in a way I had not done before, and to pray for the teaching of the Holy Spirit. I also went a few times with my pupil, who had become my much loved friend, to the Meeting-room, and felt the reality of all I heard there. But I was not quite prepared for a break with the system of things in which I had grown up. Links alike of affection and gratitude seemed to bind me to the Establishment. Still I really desired to do the will of God, and the more I read my Bible, the more fully convinced I became that, though ruin and confusion might be all around, there was still a place where the Lord loved to gather His own round Himself; and where the Holy Spirit was free to take of the things of Christ and make them glad, joy-giving realities to the gathered company.
I learned, too, that no building of brick or stone could rightly be called the church. God had, it is quite true, a house on earth, the temple at Jerusalem, but after the Lord was crucified, God could no longer own it. It is in ruins now, and the Turks have built a mosque over the place where it once stood, where a false worship is carried on. Now believers, saved through the work of the Lord Jesus, and indwelt by the Holy Spirit, form the church, in which each one is a living stone.
I often prayed that God would make His will in the matter very plain to me, and give me courage and faith to break with whatever He showed me was not suited to Himself. And in ways I little expected the answer came. A time of trial and testing followed, but it seemed as if cords that had bound me were burnt, and at last I was free to take the "outside place," in other words, to ask to be received to the fellowship of those gathered to the name of the Lord. Glad and thankful indeed I was when my request was granted. I had found a haven of rest; a home from which I could count upon His grace to keep me from ever wandering.