The Wide, Wide World

Автор

Susan Warner

Жанр

Зарубежная классика

Год написания книги

2017

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She thought nothing of all this now; she had a trying task to go through. Sing! – then, and there! And what should she sing? All that class of hymns that bore directly on the subject of their sorrow must be left on one side; she hardly dared think of them. Instinctively she took up another class, that without baring the wound would lay the balm close to it. A few minutes of deep stillness were in the dark room; then very low, and in tones that trembled a little, rose the words —

"How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer's ear;
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear."

The tremble in her voice ceased, as she went on —

"It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;
'Tis manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary, rest.

By him my prayers acceptance gain,
Although with sin defiled;
Satan accuses me in vain,
And I am owned a child.

Weak is the effort of my heart,
And cold my warmest thought, —
But when I see thee as thou art,
I'll praise thee as I ought.

Till then I would thy love proclaim
With every lab'ring breath;
And may the music of thy name
Refresh my soul in death."

Ellen paused a minute. There was not a sound to be heard in the room. She thought of the hymn, "Loving Kindness;" but the tune, and the spirit of the words, was too lively. Her mother's favourite, "'Tis my happiness below," but Ellen could not venture that; she strove to forget it as fast as possible. She sang, clearly and sweetly as ever now —

"Hark, my soul, it is the Lord,
'Tis thy Saviour, hear his word;
Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee,
'Say, poor sinner, lov'st thou me!

'I delivered thee when bound,
And when bleeding healed thy wound;
Sought thee wandering, set thee right,
Turned thy darkness into light.

'Can a mother's tender care
Cease toward the child she bare?
Yea —she may forgetful be,
Yet will I remember thee.

'Mine is an unchanging love;
Higher than the heights above,
Deeper than the depths beneath,
Free and faithful, strong as death.

'Thou shalt see my glory soon,
When the work of life is done,
Partner of my throne shalt be,
Say, poor sinner, lovest thou me?'

Lord, it is my chief complaint
That my love is weak and faint;
Yet I love thee and adore,
Oh for grace to love thee more!"

Ellen's task was no longer painful, but most delightful. She hoped she was doing some good; and that hope enabled her, after the first trembling beginning, to go on without any difficulty. She was not thinking of herself. It was very well she could not see the effect upon her auditors. Through the dark her eyes could only just discern a dark figure stretched upon the sofa and another standing by the mantelpiece. The room was profoundly still, except when she was singing. The choice of hymns gave her the greatest trouble. She thought of "Jerusalem, my happy home," but it would not do; she and Alice had too often sung it in strains of joy. Happily came to her mind the beautiful,

"How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord," &c.

She went through all the seven long verses. Still, when Ellen paused at the end of this, the breathless silence seemed to invite her to go on. She waited a minute to gather breath. The blessed words had gone down into her very heart; did they ever seem half so sweet before? She was cheered and strengthened, and thought she could go through with the next hymn, though it had been much loved and often used, both by her mother and Alice.

"Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly,
While the billows near me roll,
While the tempest still is nigh.
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life be past: —
Safe into the haven guide, —
O receive my soul at last!

Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on thee —
Leave, ah! leave me not alone!
Still support and comfort me.
All my trust on thee is stayed,
All my help from thee I bring: —
Cover my defenceless head,
Beneath the shadow of thy wing.

Thou, O Christ, art all I want;
More than all in thee I find;
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,
Heal the sick, and lead the blind.
Just and holy is thy name,
I am all unrighteousness;
Vile and full of sin I am,
Thou art full of truth and grace."

Still silence; "silence that spoke!" Ellen did not know what it said, except that her hearers did not wish her to stop. Her next was a favourite hymn of them all.

"What are these in bright array," &c.

Ellen had allowed her thoughts to travel too far along with the words, for in the last lines her voice was unsteady and faint. She was fain to make a longer pause than usual to recover herself. But in vain; the tender nerve was touched; there was no stilling its quivering.