IN one of the fairest districts of a beautiful county is a little hamlet, over which lay a pall of moral darkness. Here lived Dame Halberd, a most eccentric character, holding little intercourse with her neighbors, shunning them as shunned by them. At the time of which we write her life had run the appointed span-seventy years. But God had chosen to pluck her as a brand from the burning, and to shed abroad His light and love in her dark heart.
One Sunday afternoon, a little party of Christians entered the village to speak of Christ and make His worth known. They took their stand at a short distance from Dame Halberd's cottage. At the close of the preaching one of the party approached her house with tracts in his hand, when the old dame appeared at the door, brandishing a formidable staff, and screamed at the top of her voice, "Go back with ye, and read your books at home—a parcel o' cobblers and tailors. If ye come here, I'll knack your brains our!”
Surely her case would seem hopeless! But God acts in various ways, and He took means to reach the conscience and heart of this hardened sinner. Living with her was a daughter-in-law, upon whom consumption had laid its hand. A Christian gentleman, braving the dame's displeasure, entered the house to read to the dying woman, and point her to the Lord, the Saviour. The old dame did not refuse this comfort to her daughter, though she refused to stay in the room. However, curiosity having some part in her nature, wondering what would be said, she took a seat on the stairs, where she might hear but not herself be seen.
The message seems to have had no effect on the one for whom it was intended. The daughter shortly afterward passed away, leaving hardly any glimmer of hope to those who cared for her soul, but the word, as a nail fastened in a sure place, convicting Dame Halberd of sin. And we can only marvel at the way it was brought to pass. She who had resisted all her life was smitten down by the word which smites and heals—which wounds and binds up.
In much distress of soul, she sent to ask the gentleman to come again. He gladly went, and the comfortable word which he carried was like unto seed dropped into the plowed up field of good soil, taking root and bringing forth fruit. Her heart had been prepared for the entrance of the word; it took root and produced joy and gladness.
In her little village, where everybody knows everybody's business, the circumstance of Dame Halberd's conversion could not be hidden long, nor did she desire it. There had been a long-standing feud between her and a neighbor. This she felt was not right in a Christian, and she went to seek reconciliation. Indeed, so noticeable was the change in her life, that the villagers asked, "Whatever has come to Dame Halberd?" A relative, a professing Christian, living a few miles distant, shook her head dubiously, saying, "Well, Mrs.—, she was a very bad woman." A very bad woman! For what purpose did the Lord Jesus take that journey into Samaria, if not to give the living water to "a very bad woman"? For whom are the blessings which He purchased by His death? Are they not for those who present themselves "like a beggar with a wallet full of sins"?
Joy unspeakable became hers. "Happy!" said she one day, "Happy! I'm as happy as a prince!" And what was the ground of her joy—the confidence of her boast? "The blood of the Lamb," which continually filled her thoughts and heart. Those whose trust is in Him who shed it know that it is the sure foundation upon which all our hopes are built.
“Loving Him that begat," she "loved those also who were begotten of Him." None were more welcome to her house than "the parcel o' cobblers and tailors" whom she had formerly driven from her door. During the brief period of life granted her after conversion—about two years—she continued happy in the joy of God's salvation.
Reader, have you been turned from darkness to light? Is the blood of the Lamb your only hope and confidence? Can you say now, from the very depths of your heart, "He is worthy"? W. J.