THE short winter’s day was over, and round a cheerful are we formed a happy family circle. The younger children learned the morrow’s lessons, the elder deftly handled crochet or knitting needles, my mother busied herself with her household sewing, while my father read aloud, from some standard book, words well calculated to build up youthful minds.
“Old Annie B―is lying ill,” said one.
A little while afterward my mother rose and went to the pantry. She returned and handed me a small basket into which she had put some edibles, and a jug of milk.
“You might take these to old Annie,” she said; “she must be feeling lonely, and may not have much in her cupboard. Sit beside her a little, and do anything you can for her.”
To be my mother’s almoner was at all times a most agreeable occupation to me. I put on a wrap, and went cheerfully out into the moonless night. Subsequent years of city life make it appear strange that a young girl should go out alone on an unlit road. Outside lamps were unknown in our village, and when occasion took any of us abroad after nightfall my father told us to be brave. “Only cowards and evil-doers fear the darkness,” he used to say. I did not wish to be included in either category, but, on reaching a point where a thorn-hedge separated the roadway from a clump of trees, I quickened my steps to an abnormal pace. I found Annie lying much-written-against box-beds, and after talking a little to her, set myself to do the needful in her little home. I replenished the fire, tidied the hearth, swept the floor, and made her a cup of tea. Her somewhat hard features relaxed as she sipped the tea, and she said she was grateful to my mother for sending me, as she had been alone all day, only occasionally getting out of bed to put some fuel on the fire. I noticed, as I sat, the corner of a book peeping out below her pillow. Seeing my look, she drew it out. It was a large old-fashioned Bible. “I was reading it,” said Annie, “as long as I could see, but somehow I don’t seem to get the good out of it I would like.”
I longed to tell her how I loved the precious book, but I seemed to have become dumb, and helplessly turned over the leaves. She handed me her empty cup, and looking straight in my face in a manner that frightened me, she asked, “Are you converted?” Then was my tongue loosed, and I told her that two years before the Lord sent a messenger to me, one among a thousand, who called on me to repent and be converted, that my sins might be blotted out. I believed the message. I owned myself a lost guilty sinner, and cried to God for pardon. I found the Lord did not deal with me after my sins, but was merciful and gracious, and plenteous in mercy. The stern visage softened as I talked, and when I finished, she said, “I am glad to hear how you got converted, but it was easy for you to be saved, your sins were not so bad as mine.”
I knew that rumor spoke of dark smirches on her maiden fame, that she had drunk of the murky waters of earth’s pleasures, and instead of satisfying her, they had left her worn out and desolate, shunned by her neighbors, and unloved by her friends. Great sighs came from the bottom of her heart, as I read to her of Jesus winning the heart, and reaching the conscience of the outcast woman at the well of Samaria (John 4:1-421When therefore the Lord knew how the Pharisees had heard that Jesus made and baptized more disciples than John, 2(Though Jesus himself baptized not, but his disciples,) 3He left Judea, and departed again into Galilee. 4And he must needs go through Samaria. 5Then cometh he to a city of Samaria, which is called Sychar, near to the parcel of ground that Jacob gave to his son Joseph. 6Now Jacob's well was there. Jesus therefore, being wearied with his journey, sat thus on the well: and it was about the sixth hour. 7There cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water: Jesus saith unto her, Give me to drink. 8(For his disciples were gone away unto the city to buy meat.) 9Then saith the woman of Samaria unto him, How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? for the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans. 10Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water. 11The woman saith unto him, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep: from whence then hast thou that living water? 12Art thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle? 13Jesus answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: 14But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life. 15The woman saith unto him, Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw. 16Jesus saith unto her, Go, call thy husband, and come hither. 17The woman answered and said, I have no husband. Jesus said unto her, Thou hast well said, I have no husband: 18For thou hast had five husbands; and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband: in that saidst thou truly. 19The woman saith unto him, Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet. 20Our fathers worshipped in this mountain; and ye say, that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship. 21Jesus saith unto her, Woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father. 22Ye worship ye know not what: we know what we worship: for salvation is of the Jews. 23But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship him. 24God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth. 25The woman saith unto him, I know that Messias cometh, which is called Christ: when he is come, he will tell us all things. 26Jesus saith unto her, I that speak unto thee am he. 27And upon this came his disciples, and marvelled that he talked with the woman: yet no man said, What seekest thou? or, Why talkest thou with her? 28The woman then left her waterpot, and went her way into the city, and saith to the men, 29Come, see a man, which told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ? 30Then they went out of the city, and came unto him. 31In the mean while his disciples prayed him, saying, Master, eat. 32But he said unto them, I have meat to eat that ye know not of. 33Therefore said the disciples one to another, Hath any man brought him ought to eat? 34Jesus saith unto them, My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work. 35Say not ye, There are yet four months, and then cometh harvest? behold, I say unto you, Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest. 36And he that reapeth receiveth wages, and gathereth fruit unto life eternal: that both he that soweth and he that reapeth may rejoice together. 37And herein is that saying true, One soweth, and another reapeth. 38I sent you to reap that whereon ye bestowed no labor: other men labored, and ye are entered into their labors. 39And many of the Samaritans of that city believed on him for the saying of the woman, which testified, He told me all that ever I did. 40So when the Samaritans were come unto him, they besought him that he would tarry with them: and he abode there two days. 41And many more believed because of his own word; 42And said unto the woman, Now we believe, not because of thy saying: for we have heard him ourselves, and know that this is indeed the Christ, the Saviour of the world. (John 4:1‑42)). I prayed with her, and left her.
Often afterward did we talk together on this all-important subject, and my faith became more firmly established as I sought to enlighten her.
“Wait until you are old,” she said one day, “and you will not think sins can be blotted out so easily.”
For answer I read the wonderful entreaty in Isaiah 1:18: “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.”
“But my sins are black,” she said. It was true. She had sinned with a cart rope, and the odor of her offenses, committed in her youth, still lingered in the neighborhood. I turned to Romans 3: “There is no difference: for all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.” God did not own degrees in sin. None had attained to His standard, therefore all were alike guilty, all were included in unbelief, that He might have mercy upon all.
Annie liked me to read those passages in the gospels that told of the Lord’s gracious way with the outcasts; how the publicans and sinners drew near Him to hear Him. His spotless presence did not repel them, but attracted them to Himself, He “frankly forgave” alike the fifty-pence, and the five-hundred-pence debtors, and allowed a woman that was a sinner to kiss His feet.
Much did Annie grieve over the iniquities of bygone days, nor do we think that anyone can ever feel too deeply the exceeding sinfulness of sin. The only righteous plummet by which sin can be measured is the cross of Christ. If you can fathom the depths of ignominy and shame the blessed Son of God endured while hanging on the accursed tree—suffering the Just for the unjust—bearing the judgment of God for sin—then you will know what sin is. But no finite mind can grasp that which could only be accomplished by the infinite; yet may we, in our feeble capacities, set to our seal that God is true, by accepting with unwavering faith the testimony He has given us of the atoning death of His Son, and rest, as did Annie, on this glorious truth “The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.”
On what do you trust, dear reader? Any bed of your own construction on which you may rest for salvation will be found shorter than that you can stretch yourself on it, and the covering narrower than that you can wrap yourself in. Confusion of face must be yours when the Lord stretches His plumb-line over you, when He wipes you as a man wipeth a dish, wiping it and turning it upside down. Will you not rather accept the righteous basis by which God can be just and the justifier of him that believeth in Jesus?
M. M.