<h2>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
<h3>REVIVAL.</h3>
<p>AS the early autumn months slipped away,
and touches of winter began to show
around them, it became evident that a new feeling
was stirring in the First Church.</p>
<p>No need now to work for increased numbers
at the prayer-meeting; at least there was not
the need that formerly existed; the room was
full, and the meetings solemn and earnest. The
Spirit of God was hovering over the place.
Drops of the coming shower were already beginning
to fall.</p>
<p>What was the cause of the quickened hearts?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_356" id="Page_356"></SPAN></span>
Who knew save the Watcher on the tower in
the eternal city? Was it because of the sudden,
and solemn, and hopeless death occurring in the
very center of what was called "the first circles?"
Was it the spirit developed apparently
by this death, showing itself in eager, indefatigable
effort wherever Ruth Erskine went, with
whomsoever she came in contact?</p>
<p>Was it Marion Wilbur's new way of teaching,
that included not only the intellect of her pupils,
but looked beyond that, with loving word, for
the empty soul? Was it Eurie Mitchell's patient
way of taking up home work and care, that
had been distasteful to her, and that she had
shunned in days gone by? Was it Flossy Shipley's
way of teaching the Sabbath-school lessons
to "those boys" of hers?</p>
<p>Was it the quickened sense which throbbed in
the almost discouraged heart of the pastor whenever
he came in contact with either of these
four? Was it the patient, persistent, unassuming
work of John Warden as he went about in
the shop among his fellow-workmen, dropping
an earnest word here, a pressing invitation there?</p>
<p>Who shall tell whether either, or all of these<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_357" id="Page_357"></SPAN></span>
influences, combined with hundreds of others,
set in motion by like causes, were the beginnings
of the solemn and blessed harvest time, that
dawned at last on those who had been sowing
in tears?</p>
<p>The fact was apparent. Even in the First
Church, that model of propriety and respectability,
that church which had so feared excitement
or unusual efforts of <i>any</i> sort, there was a revival!</p>
<p>Among those who were coming, and who were
growing willing to let others know that they were
awakening to a sense of the importance of these
things, were Dr. and Mrs. Mitchell, Eurie's father
and mother. To themselves they did not
hesitate to say that the change in Eurie was so
marked and so increasing in its power over her
life, that it obliged them to think seriously of
this thing.</p>
<p>Among the interested also were a score or
more of girls from Marion's room in the great
school; and more came every day. Marion's face
was shining, and she gathered her brood about
her as a mother would the children of her love
and longing.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_358" id="Page_358"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>Among them were four of Flossy's boys; and
half a dozen boys, friends of theirs, who were
not Flossy's, and who yet, someway, joined her
train and managed to be "counted in." Among
them was Judge Erskine—I mean among those
who continued to come to the meetings—coming
alone, and being reverent and thoughtful
during the services, but going away with bowed
head, and making no sign: there was something
in the way with Judge Erskine that no one understood.</p>
<p>As for Ruth—how she worked during these
days! Not with a glad light in her eyes, such as
Marion and Flossy had; not with a satisfied face
as if the question of something to do that was
worth doing, and that helped her, had been settled,
such as Eurie Mitchell wore; rather with a
sad feverish impatience to accomplish <i>results;</i>
shrinking from nothing, willing to do anything,
go anywhere, yet meeting with far less encouragement,
and seeing far less fruits, than any of
the others. She did not realize that she was
working with a sort of desperate intention of
overbalancing the mischief of her mistakes by so
much work now, that there would be a sort of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_359" id="Page_359"></SPAN></span>
even balance at the scales. She would have
been shocked had she understood her own
heart.</p>
<p>Meantime, where was Satan? Content to let
this reaping time alone? Oh, bless you, no!
Never busier, never more alert, and watchful,
and cautious, and <i>skillful</i> than now! It was
wonderful, too, how many helpers he found
whose names were actually on the roll of the
First Church!</p>
<p>There were those who had had in mind all the
fall having little entertainments, "just a few
friends, you know, nothing like a party; they
were sorry to be obliged to have them just now
while there were meetings; but Miss Gilmore
was in town, and would be here so short a time,
they <i>must</i> invite her; it would not be treating
her well to take no notice of her visit; and,
really, the people whom they proposed to invite
were those who did not attend church, so no
harm could be done."</p>
<p>These were some of Satan's helpers. There
were others who were more outspoken. They
"did not believe in special efforts; seasons of
excitement; religious dissipations—nothing else.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_360" id="Page_360"></SPAN></span>
People should be religious at all times, not put
it on for special occasions."</p>
<p>It was well enough to have a special season for
parties, and a special season for going to the sea-side,
and a special season for doing one's dressmaking,
and a special season for cleaning house,
and a special season for everything under the sun
but religious meetings; these should be conducted—at
all times. Was that what they
meant? Oh, dear, no! They should not be conducted
at all. Was <i>that</i> what they meant?
Who should tell what they <i>did</i> mean? One
lady said:</p>
<p>"The idea of the bell ringing every evening
for prayer-meeting! It was too absurd! People
must have a little time for recreation; these
weeks just before the holidays were always by
common consent the time for festivities of all
sorts; it was downright folly to expect young
people to give up their pleasures and go every
evening to meeting."</p>
<p>So she issued her cards for a party, and gathered
as many of the young people about her as
she could. And this woman was a member of
the First Church! And this woman professed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_361" id="Page_361"></SPAN></span>
to believe in the verse that read, "Whether
therefore ye eat or drink, or whatever ye do, do
all to the glory of God!"</p>
<p>There were others who went to these parties,
hushing their consciences meantime by the explanation
that the social duties were important
ones, and that one whose heart was right could
serve God as well having religious conversation
at a party, as she could occupying a seat at a
prayer-meeting. Perhaps they really believed
it. What marvel? Satan himself is transformed
into an angel of light.</p>
<p>The trouble about the sincerity was, that those
same persons were not unaware of certain sneering
remarks that were being made, to the effect that
if church-members could go to parties when there
were meetings at their own church, <i>they</i> could
surely be excused from the meetings; and they
could not have been utterly ignorant of the
verse that read plainly, "Let not your good be
evil spoken of."</p>
<p>There were still others who compromised matters,
taking the meetings for the first hour of the
evening and a party for the next three; and the
lookers-on said, sneeringly, that there was a strife<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_362" id="Page_362"></SPAN></span>
going on between the soul, the flesh and the
devil, and they wondered which would conquer!</p>
<p>So all these classes flourished and worked in
their different ways in the First Church; just as
they always <i>will</i> work, until that day when the
wheat shall be forever separated from the tares.
The wonder is why so many blinded eyes <i>must</i>
insist that because there are tares, there is therefore
no wheat. The Lord said, "Let both grow
together until the harvest."</p>
<p>"I don't understand it," Ruth said one day to
Marion, as they talked the work over, and tried
to lay plans for future helpfulness. "Why do
you suppose it is that I seem able to do nothing
at all? I try with all my might; my heart is
surely in it, and I long with a desire that seems
almost as if it would consume me, to see some
fruit of my work, and yet I don't. What <i>can</i> be
the difficulty?"</p>
<p>"I don't know," Marion said, speaking hesitatingly,
as one who would like to say more if she
dared. "I don't feel competent to answer that
question, and yet, sometimes, I have feared that
you might be trying to compromise with the
Lord."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_363" id="Page_363"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I don't understand you; in what way do you
mean? I try to do my duty in every place that
I can think of. I am not compromising on any
subject, so far as I know. If I am, I will certainly
be grateful to anyone who will point it
out to me."</p>
<p>"I am not sure that it is sufficiently clear to
my own mind to be able to point it out," Marion
said, still visibly embarrassed. "But, Ruth, it
sometimes seems to me as if you had said to
yourself, 'Now I will work so much and pray so
much, and then I ought to have rest from the
pain that is goading me on, and I ought to be
able to feel that I have atoned for past mistakes,
and the account against me is squared.'"</p>
<p>Ruth turned from her impatiently.</p>
<p>"You are a strange comforter," she said, almost
indignantly. "Do you mean by that to intimate
that you think I ought <i>never</i> to look or
hope for rest of mind again because I have made
one fearful mistake? Do you mean that I ought
always to carry with me the sense of the burden?"</p>
<p>"I mean no such thing. You cannot think
I so estimate the power of the sacrifice for sin.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_364" id="Page_364"></SPAN></span>
Ruth, I mean simply this: Nothing that you or
I can do can possibly make one sin white, one
mistake as though it had not been, give one moment
of rest to a troubled heart. But the blood
of Jesus Christ can do all this, and it does seem
to me that you are ignoring it, and trying to
work out your own rest."</p>
<p>Ruth was thoughtful; the look of vexation
passed from her face.</p>
<p>"It may be so," she said, after a long silence.
"I begin dimly to understand your meaning;
but I don't know how to help it, how to feel differently.
I surely ought to work, and surely I
have a right to expect results."</p>
<p>"In one sense, yes, and in another I don't believe
we have. I begin to feel more and more
that you and I have <i>got</i> in some way to be made
to understand that it is not our way, but the
Lord's, that we must be willing to do, or, what
is harder, to leave undone, exactly what he says,
<i>do</i> or <i>not</i> do. I can't help feeling that you are
planning in your own heart just what ought to
be done, and then allowing yourself to feel almost
indignant and ill-used because the work is
not accomplished."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_365" id="Page_365"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I don't know how you have succeeded in
seeing so deeply into my heart," Ruth said, with
a wan smile. "I believe it is so, though I am not
sure that I ever saw it before."</p>
<p>"I know why I see it; because it is my temptation
as well as yours. You and I are both
strong-willed; we have both been used to having
our own way; we want to continue to have
it; we want to do the right things provided we
can have the choosing of them. Flossy, now,
with her yielding nature, is willing to <i>be led</i>, as
you and I are not. I have to fight against this
tendency to carry out my plans and look for <i>my</i>
results all the time. The fact is, Ruth, we must
learn to work for <i>Christ</i>, and not set up business
for ourselves, and still expect him to give the
wages."</p>
<p>"Still," said Ruth, "I don't know. There
seems to me to be nothing that I am not willing
to do. I can't think of anything so hard that I
would not unhesitatingly do it. I have changed
wonderfully in that respect. A little while ago
I was not willing to do anything. Now I am
ready for anything that can be done."</p>
<p>"Are you?" Marion asked, with a visible<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_366" id="Page_366"></SPAN></span>
shiver. "Ruth, are you <i>sure?</i> I can't say that;
I want to say it, and I pray that I may be able;
yet I can think of so many things that I might
be called on to do that I shrink from. I have
given up trying to do them, and fallen back on
the promise, 'My grace is sufficient,' only praying,
'Lord, give me the needed grace for to-day;
I will not reach out for to-morrow.' And, Ruth, I
feel sure that neither you nor I must try to cover
our past errors with present usefulness. Nothing
but the blood of Christ can cover <i>any</i> wrong;
we <i>must</i> rest on that, and on that alone."</p>
<p>"I believe I only understand in part what you
mean. I don't see how you ever reached so far
ahead of me in faith and in understanding. But
I believe you <i>are</i> farther. Still, I can't think of
anything that I am not willing and ready to do.
I wish I might be tried; I wish He would give
me some work, not of my own planning, that
He might see how willing I am to do anything."</p>
<p>This was Ruth's last remark to her friend that
evening. Flossy and Eurie both came in, and
they went out to the meeting together, Ruth
thinking still of the talk they had, and feeling
sure that she could do whatever she found, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_367" id="Page_367"></SPAN></span>
yet the Master was planning a way for her that
very evening, the entrance to which she had
never seen, never dreamed of as possible. So
many ways he has for leading us! Blessed are
those who have come to the experience that
makes them willing to be led, even in darkness
and blindness, trusting to the Sun of Righteousness
for light.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_368" id="Page_368"></SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />