A Day’s Time-Table by E. S. Elliott
Chapter 8
And when, later, Gertrude had stolen in for sisterly sympathy in that rapturous confidence to which her parents had together given happy benediction, “Rejoice with them that do rejoice” from the secret monitor had come more as a seal to the spontaneous gladness of congratulation than as a guiding enjoinder.
“He that hath friends must show himself friendly” seemed to sanctify the evening’s engagements. And as she joined her mother, who was radiantly “ready” according to Hugh, “to sprinkle essence of benison on the whole family,” the sweet sense of being “in the way” filled her heart, and lent a fresh grace to her blending of guests, a fresh sparkle of fun and interest to her conversational powers, while it seemed to give a deeper tone to her own part in the rich family choir which was so strong an attraction to Mr. Emerson’s house.
And now the day was done, and “It is good to show forth thy faithfulness every night” brought to her, as with a parting revelation, the reminder that, at the close of the guided hours – for which how real the need of cleansing in the fountain of Calvary! – the Father’s heart yearned for a retrospection of praise, for a love-receipt, inscribed with the pen of filial gratitude in vindication of His having been indeed “mindful of His covenant.”
Oh the joy of that retrospection! – the wonder with which, as never before, “All things are yours; for you are Christ’s; and Christ is God’s,” filled her soul, while the redeemed life, in its divine prevision and with its exhaustless provision, presented itself to her in its true aspect!
“‘To live is Christ.’ I see it now!” exclaimed Lois. “It is not, as I have always half taken for granted, an attainable height of apostolic experience. It is for me tonight – tomorrow – always!
“And now the night’s rest – even the act of lying down – is sanctified!” and “Thou compassest my path and my lying down;” “In the night His song shall be with me,” shone out in the clear lettering from the sacred calendar, as the final seal was broken, and, with grateful retrospection, she reviewed its contents in their entirety.
Then, beneath all, and in different characters, she read what seemed to her like a last word of greeting: “He calleth His own sheep by name, and leadeth them out.” “He that followeth Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”
When Lois was wakened to a new day by the chirping of the sparrows outside her window, it was with a sense of blankness that she at first looked on into its untried path. What a contrast it would be to that yesterday of wondrous revealings! How that communicated time-table had raised her above circumstances of life!
And there where, the morning before, the chart of guidance had met her gaze, her eye lighted on the familiar Bible of long companionship, and from its page the message gleamed forth in new and silvery brightness: “When thou goest, it shall lead thee; when thou sleepest, it shall keep thee; and when thou awakest, it shall talk with thee. For the commandment is a lamp; and the law is light.”
“No fixed rule!” exclaimed Lois, as she clasped the sacred volume to her heart with a strange feeling of reendowment, and recalled the longings for a more clearly indicated vocation. “No exactitude of ordering for a life which Christ has bought for Himself! Yesterday’s gift was, after all, not more than I have here, always – for every day on to the end!” Then, and as fervent vow of renewed and lifelong fealty, the words, low breathed, found utterance, “Thou shalt guide me with Thy counsel, and afterward receive me into glory.”
Chapter 9
It is possible that my little story may have put into words thoughts and cravings – real, if unspoken – which, holding place in some earnest, yet not wholly satisfied, heart, will, it is hoped, have met on its pages comprehending recognition.
And it is equally possible that some judicious reader may lay it down with a wholly justifiable criticism: “As a story, the mixture of some sort of supernatural interposition with the common routine of family life is inadmissible. How can this mysterious time-table be reconciled with the everyday comings and goings belonging to the most ordinary nineteenth-century family interior?”
The objection is frankly accepted. Perhaps in the words of the excellent lecturer, north of the Tweed, confronted with an apparently insoluble difficulty in the course of his argument, the case may best and most apologetically be disposed of: “My friends, this is a very knotty point. Let us pause; let us look it fairly in the face, and – pass on!”
Related posts:
September 10th, 2007 - 8:21 am
Thank you for posting this thought provoking story.
[Reply]