The next morning Christie woke with a happy heart, for he remembered his last night’s prayer, and in his simple faith he had taken the Lord at His word, and had believed that the blood of Jesus Christ had cleansed him from all sin.
But old Treffy’s doubts and fears came back again. He began to look within, and the remembrance of his sin returned upon him. What if, after all, there was sin on his soul? What if the gates were still closed against him?
“Christie, boy, I don’t feel it’s all right with me yet,” he said, anxiously.
“Why not, Master Treffy?” asked Christie.
“Why, I’ve been so bad, Christie; it doesn’t seem likely He’d do it for me so soon as that; there’s such a deal of sin on my soul.”
“But you asked Him to wash you, Master Treffy; didn’t you?”
“Ay, I asked Him, Christie,” said Treffy, in a despairing tone.
“And He said He would if you asked Him, Master Treffy; didn’t He?”
“Ay, Christie, I believe He did,” said Treffy.
“Then of course He has done it,” said Christie “I don’t know, Christie, boy; I can’t feel it,” said old Treffy, pitifully. “I don’t seem to see it as I ought.”
So whilst little Christie was walking in the sunshine, old Treffy was still groping on in the shadow, sometimes hoping, sometimes fearing, but never trusting.
Christie paid another visit to the suburban road that week. Little Mabel and her mother were coming out of the house when Christie reached the gate. The little girl ran eagerly forward when she caught sight of the organ, and begged her mamma to stay whilst she turned the handle just six times!
The lady spoke very kindly to Christie. She asked him several questions, and he told her about old Treffy, how ill he was, and how he had not another month to live. The tears were in the lady’s eyes, and she asked Christie where he lived, and wrote it down on a white tablet which she carried in her pocket.
“Mamma,” said little Mabel, “I want to whisper something to you.”
The lady bent down her head to listen, and then said kindly: “Yes, if you like.”
Mabel darted into the house, and returned with a large bunch of single white snowdrops, prettily arranged with sprigs of dark myrtle leaves. Very white, and pure, and lovely they looked.
“Here, organ-boy,” said Mabel, as she put them into his hands, “these are my own dear snowdrops, Aunt Helen gave me them, and you must take them to Master Treffy. He’ll like them, won’t he?” she said.
“Ay! that he will, missie,” said Christie, warmly.
“Mabel,” said her mother, “you must teach Christie the little prayer I told you always to say when you looked at the snowdrops.”
“Yes,” said Mabel, “I will. This is it, Christie: `Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.’“ Christie looked up brightly.
“Will you say that prayer, Christie?” asked the lady, kindly.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Christie, “it’s just like what me and Master Treffy said last night: “Cleanse me and save me, Cleanse me and save me, Wash all my sins away.”
The lady smiled when Christie said this, and seemed very pleased.
“I am so glad you know of the only way to be washed white,” said the lady. “These snowdrops always make me think of the souls washed white in the blood of Jesus.”
Then the lady and little Mabel passed on, and Christie looked down very tenderly on the flowers.
How he would love them now! He turned his steps homeward at once, for he did not want the snowdrops to fade before they reached old Treffy. How fair, and clean, and pure they looked! So different from the smoke and dirt of the noisy court. Christie was almost afraid lest the thick air might soil them as he carried them through it. Some of the children ran after him and begged for a flower, but he guarded his treasures very carefully till he reached the attic.
When Christie opened the door who should be there but the clergyman, sitting beside old Treffy, and talking to him very earnestly! He stopped to give Christie a kind word, and then he went on with what he was saying. He was telling Treffy about the death of Jesus, and how it is that the blood of Jesus can wash away all sin.
“I can’t see that it’s all right with me,” said Treffy, in a trembling voice; “it seems dark and dim to me yet. I don’t feel that I’ve got it; I can’t feel happy.”
“Treffy,” said the clergyman, suddenly, “do you think I would tell you a lie?”
“No, sir,” said old Treffy; “I’m sure you wouldn’t; I could see it in your face, sir, if nowhere else. No, sir, I’d trust you anywhere.”
“Now, Treffy,” said the clergyman, taking some money from his pocket, “I’ve brought this for you. You cannot work now, and you need many things you cannot get. I will give you this money to buy them with.”
“Thank you, sir,” said old Treffy, the tears running down his cheeks; “I can never thank you enough. We are very badly off just now, Christie and me.”
“Stop, Treffy,” said the clergyman, “it isn’t yours yet; you must take it.”
Treffy put out his trembling old hand, and took it, with another murmur of thanks.
“Do you feel that you’ve got it, Treffy?” said the clergyman.
“Yes, sir, it’s here,” said old Treffy.
“Are you sure you’ve got it, Treffy?” said the clergyman again.
“Yes, sir,” said Treffy, in a bewildered voice, “I know I have; I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“I will tell you what I mean,” said the clergyman. “The Lord Jesus has come into this room just as I have, Treffy. He has brought a gift for you, just as I did. His gift has cost Him far more than mine cost me; it has cost Him His life. He has come close to you, as I came, and He says to you, as I said: ‘Old Treffy, can you trust Me? do you think I would tell you a lie?’ And then He holds out His gift, as I did, Treffy, and He says, ‘Take it; it is for you.’ Now, Treffy, what have you to do with this gift? Just exactly what you did with mine. You have not to work for it, or wait for it. You have just to put out your hand and take it. Do you know what the gift is?”
Treffy did not answer, so the clergyman went on—“It is the forgiveness of your sin, Treffy; it is the clean heart, for which you are longing; it is the right to enter into ‘Home, sweet Home,’ for which you have been praying, Treffy; will you take the gift?”
“I want to take it,” said old Treffy, “but I don’t know how.”
“Did you stop to think how you were to take my gift, Treffy?”
“No,” said the old man, “I just took it.”
“Yes,” said the clergyman, “exactly; and that is what you must do with the Lord’s gift; you must just take it.”
“Would it have pleased me, Treffy,” said the clergyman, “if you had pulled your hand back and said, ‘Oh no, sir! I don’t deserve it; I don’t believe you would ever give it to me, I can’t take it yet?’”
“No,” said Treffy, “I don’t suppose it would.”
“Yet this is just what you are doing to the Lord Jesus, Treffy. He is holding out His gift to you, and He wants you to take it at once, yet you hold back, and say, ‘No, Lord, I can’t believe what You say, I can’t trust Your word, I can’t believe the gift is for me, I can’t take it yet.’”
“Treffy,” said the clergyman, earnestly, “if you can trust me, oh, why can’t you trust the Lord Jesus?”
The tears were running down the old man’s face, and he could not speak.
“I am going to ask you another question, Treffy,” said the clergyman. “Will you trust the Lord Jesus now?”
“Yes, sir,” said Treffy, through his tears; “I don’t think I can help trusting Him now.”
“Now, Treffy, remember Jesus is in this attic, close to you, close to me, very, very near, Treffy. When we speak to Him He will hear every word we say; He will listen to every sigh; He will read every wish.”
“But, before you speak to Him, Treffy, listen to what He says to you,” said the clergyman, taking his Bible from his pocket. “These are His own words that are found in Isaiah 1:1818Come 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. (Isaiah 1:18) and 1 John 1:7: ‘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,’ for ‘the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.’ Treffy, will you trust the Lord Jesus? do you think He would tell you a lie?”
“No,” said old Treffy; “I’m sure He wouldn’t.” “Very well, Treffy, then we will tell Him so.”
The clergyman knelt down by Treffy’s side, and Christie knelt down too, and old Treffy clasped his trembling hands whilst the clergyman prayed.
It was a very simple prayer: it was just taking the Lord at His word. Old Treffy repeated the words after the clergyman with the deepest earnestness, and when he had finished the old man still clasped his hands and said: “Lord Jesus, I do trust Thee, I do take the gift, I do believe Thy word.”
Then the clergyman rose from his knees and said, “Treffy, when you had taken my gift, what did you do next?”
“I thanked you for it sir,” said Treffy.
“Yes,” said the clergyman, “and would you not like to thank the Lord Jesus for His gift of forgiveness?”
“Oh!” said Treffy, with tears in his eyes, “I should indeed, sir.”
So they all knelt down again, and in a few words the clergyman thanked the Lord for His great love and goodness to old Treffy, in giving him pardon for his sin.
And again old Treffy took up the words and added: “Thank you, Lord Jesus, very much for the gift; it cost Thee Thy life; oh! I do thank Thee with all my heart.”
“Now, Treffy,” said the clergyman, as he rose to go, “if Satan comes to you tomorrow, and says, ‘Old Treffy, do you feel you’ve got forgiveness? perhaps after all it’s a mistake,’ what shall you say to him?”
“I think I shall tell him my text,” said old Treffy, “The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.”
“That will do, Treffy,” said the clergyman; “he can’t answer that. And remember, the Lord wishes you to know you are forgiven, not to feel you are forgiven.
There is a difference between feeling and knowing. You knew you had taken my gift, and you did not know what I meant when I asked you if you felt I had given it to you. It is the same with the Lord’s gift, Treffy. Your feelings have nothing to do with your safety, but your faith has a great deal to do with it. Have you taken the Lord at His word? have you trusted Him? That is the question.”
“Yes, sir,” said Treffy, “I have.”
“Then you know you are forgiven,” said the clergyman, with a smile.
“Yes, sir,” said Treffy, brightly, “I can trust Him now.”
Then Christie walked up to Treffy, and put the bunch of white snowdrops in his hand.
“Miss Mabel gave me them,” he said, “and she said I was to say a little prayer whenever I looked at them: ‘Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.’”
“Whiter than snow,” repeated the clergyman; “whiter than snow; Treffy! that is a sweet word, is it not?”
“Yes,” said old Treffy, earnestly, as he looked at the flowers, “whiter than snow, washed white in the blood of Jesus.”
Then the clergyman took his leave, but as he was crossing the court he heard Christie running after him. He had a few of the lovely snowdrops and a sprig of the dark myrtle in his hand.
“Please, sir,” said Christie, “would you like a few of them?”
“Thank you, my boy,” said the clergyman, “I should indeed.”
He carried the snowdrops carefully home, and they taught him a lesson of faith. The seed he had sown in the mission-room had not been lost. Already two poor sin-stained souls had come to the fountain, and had been washed whiter than snow. The old man and the little boy had taken the Lord at His word, and had found the only way into the bright city, into “Home, sweet Home.” God had been very good to him in letting him know this. Surely, he would trust in the future.