The Cloister Court.
“There sounds a glorious music,
As though all the Heavens rejoice;
There is One who singeth, and wondrous
Is the gladness of His Voice.
A joy of surpassing sweetness
Of love no speech can tell;
I hear, and my heart is broken,
For the Voice I know full well.
That Voice that has called me ever―
Called through the years of sin,
At my door beseeching and knocking—
‘Let Me, even Me, come in.’
And now in His joy He singeth,
And His marvelous song is of me;
And all the Heavens make music,
For the gladness of God they see.
‘He was dead, he was dead, and he liveth;
He was lost, was lost, and is found’—
This is the song He singeth,
This is the joyful sound,
Through the open door of Heaven
Down to my chamber dim
Is borne that tide of rejoicing,
That wondrous hymn.”
WE have read the first chapters in the history of this sheep, lost and found—of one who had been dead and was alive. From friends of her youth we know something of her early history.
She was a daughter of the noble house of the Counts of Hackeborn had been brought up in a Benedictine convent at Rodelsdorff, in Saxony, from which she was transferred to the convent of Hellfde, where her sister Mechthild was already a professed nun. Here, having taken the vows, she gave herself up to the study of Latin and of science.
For she was “wise beyond all others who learned with her, and was gentle and loving, and was ready to render a service to any, being humble and of a quiet spirit; and because of her skill in learning, and of her gracious ways, she was held in honor by all around her.”
Thus did Gertrude grow up sweet and fair in the eyes of men; but in her heart she was unquiet, and she dared not look within, for she knew that the Christ of whom Mechthild spoke was a stranger to her soul. And the God who was the light of Mechild’s life, was to her but the Judge before whom she must one day stand, and give account to Him of her life, so lovely before men, but so empty of all love to Him who had given her the gifts that made her fair and sweet.
And thus had she journeyed on, carrying the heavy burden of her guilt, though scarcely knowing what it was in her blameless life that could be called sin.
It was on that day in February that the burden fell from her shoulders, and she knew that the “handwriting that was against her” had been nailed to the Cross of Christ. For He had made peace by the Blood of His Cross, and He had reconciled her to God, forgiving her all trespasses. And for awhile all was joy and peace, and her heart overflowed with praise to Him who had saved her with an eternal salvation, so that there was no condemnation, no fearful looking for of judgment, but before her only Paradise, even Paradise with Christ.
We will turn again to the tablet to read what was the fresh need of this redeemed soul—what was the fresh grace given to her by Him who is not satisfied by forgiving, nor satisfied by the gift of the Paradise to come.
“All hail! O Thou the Salvation, and the Light of my soul, may Heaven and earth praise Thee and the depths beneath. For Thou in Thy grace didst lead me to look within and search the innermost chambers of my heart, of which I had known as little, if so I may speak, as of that which is within my hands and feet.
“But when the sweetness and the glory of Thy light had illumined those dark chambers, then did I behold the uncleanness which was manifested by Thy purity. Then did I behold the confusion and disorder which made my heart all unfit to be Thine abiding place.
“And yet in spite of this, and in spite of my sin, O Thou blessed Jesus, didst Thou manifest Thyself to me—though I saw Thee as one sees in the dusk of the dawn, dimly and darkly. But when I remember what was my past life, and my present life, I perceive and own that it was in pure grace that I saw Thee, however dimly, for in former years Thou wert all unknown to me, and all unseen.
“And it came to pass, whilst Thou wert so tenderly drawing my heart from empty pleasures to Thyself, that I went on a certain day into the cloister court. It was in the spring-time, between Easter and the Ascension day. And I sat down beside the fishpond, and considered the loveliness of that quiet court. And it pleased me well to see the clear water flowing in, and the green trees that stood around, and the birds that flew amidst the branches, and especially the doves that soared aloft so glad and so free.
“And most of all it was sweet to me that I could sit there in that quiet solitary place, and be at rest.
“Then did I begin to question with myself what more could I wish, in order that the sweetness and delight might be of profit to my soul. And I thought, ‘Were there but a wise and trusted friend beside me, who would turn this quiet hour to good account, or make it to turn, through me, to good account for others!’
“And Thou, O Lord, who gavest me the beginning of this thought, Thou the fountain of immeasurable joy, Thou didst lead on my thought to a blessed end, even to Thyself.
“For Thou didst show me that as the clear water flowed into the silent court, so should my praise and love flow back to Thee, O Thou resting-place of my heart. And as the trees stood fresh and green with their fair spring blossoms, so should my soul be as the garden of Thy pleasant trees; and as the doves soaring up from the lower earth into the depths of the blue heavens, so should my heart seek the things that are above. And as the cloister court was still, and the many sounds of the world beyond could not enter there, so wouldest Thou have all my heart and soul to be a still seclusion, and then should I be to Thee as the quiet court to me, a lovely and a blessed resting-place.
“And all through that day there abode in my memory this thought that came from Thee. And in the evening when I knelt down to pray, before I rested on my bed, there came to me suddenly the remembrance of Thy words in the blessed Gospel, even these, “If a man love Me, he will keep My words, and My Father will love him, and We will come unto him, and make Our abode with him.”
“And with these words my poor heart became aware that Thou, O blessed Lord, Thou, the One Beloved of my heart, hadst entered in to dwell there. But a thousand times— thousand times did I long that Thy precious blood, as an endless ocean, might be poured out upon me from head to foot, that thus the dwelling-place that Thou hadst chosen for Thyself might be cleansed from the mire of my unworthiness, and made worthy, O Lord, of Thee! For in truth I know that if the moment of my most fervent endeavor to cleanse my heart could be prolonged through the whole of my life, I could not make myself worthy for one moment even of Thy reproving grace; and yet to me, unworthy and unclean, Thy tenderest grace is given.”
Even so, in spite of the sins and in spite of the ignorance of this child of God, did the immeasurable love and grace reach her and bless her. He answered to the longing of the heart in which His love had been shed abroad, and she knew that He had entered to dwell there.
Yet though she also knew that no labor of her own, but His precious Blood alone could cleanse the dwelling-place He had chosen, she had not known that already she was cleansed, washed, sanctified, and justified, and made meet for Him, and for the inheritance of the saints in light. She was as Peter when he asked to be washed from head to foot, and his Lord answered him in words so little understood, not only by the saints of six hundred years ago, but by many now, “He that is washed needeth not save to wash his feet, but is clean every whit.”