a new england girlhood-第9部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

rds；　it　still　did　give　me　an　idea　of　the　presence　of　One　Infinite　Being；　that　thrilled　me　with　reverent　awe。　And　this　was　one　of　the　best　lessons　taught　in　the　Puritan　school；the　lesson　of　reverence；　the　certainty　that　life　meant　looking　up　to　something；　to　Some　One　greater　than　ourselves；　to　a　Life　far　above　us；　which　yet　enfolded　ours。

The　thought　of　God；　when　He　was　first　spoken　of　to　me；　seemed　as　natural　as　the　thought　of　my　father　and　mother。　That　He　should　be　invisible　did　not　seem　strange；　for　I　could　not　with　my　eyes　see　through　the　sky；　beyond　which　I　supposed　he　lived。　But　it　was　easy　to　believe　that　He　could　look　down　and　see　me；　and　that　He　knew　all　about　me。　We　were　taught　very　early　to　say　〃Thou；　God；　seest　me〃；　and　it　was　one　of　my　favorite　texts。　Heaven　seemed　nearer；　because　somebody　I　loved　was　up　there　looking　at　me。　A　baby　is　not　afraid　of　its　father's　eyes。

The　first　real　unhappiness　I　remember　to　have　felt　was　when　some　one　told　me；　one　day；　that　I　did　not　love　God。　I　insisted；　almost　tearfully；　that　I　did；　but　I　was　told　that　if　I　did　truly　love　Him　I　should　always　be　good。　I　knew　I　was　not　that；　and　the　feeling　of　sudden　orphanage　came　over　me　like　a　bewildering　cloud。　Yet　I　was　sure　that　I　loved　my　father　and　mother；　even　when　I　was　naughty；　Was　He　harder　to　please　than　they？

Then　I　heard　of　a　dreadful　dark　Somewhere；　the　horror　of　which　was　that　it　was　away　from　Him。　What　if　I　should　wake　some　morning；　and　find　myself　there？　Sometimes　I　did　not　dare　to　go　to　sleep　for　that　dread。　And　the　thought　was　too　awful　to　speak　of　to　anybody。　Baby　that　I　was；　I　shut　my　lips　in　a　sort　of　reckless　despair；　and　thought　that　if　I　could　not　be　good；　I　might　as　well　be　naughty；　and　enjoy　it。　But　somehow　I　could　not　enjoy　it。　I　felt　sorry　and　ashamed　and　degraded　whenever　I　knew　that　I　had　been　cross　or　selfish。

I　heard　them　talk　about　Jesus　as　if　He　were　a　dead　man；　one　who　died　a　great　while　ago；　whose　death　made　a　great　difference　to　us；　I　could　not　understand　how。　It　seemed　like　a　lovely　story；　the　loveliest　in　the　world；　but　it　sounded　as　if　it　were　only　a　story；　even　to　those　who　repeated　it　to　me；　something　that　had　happened　far　away　in　the　past。

But　one　day　a　strange　minister　came　into　the　Sabbath…school　in　our　little　chapel；　and　spoke　to　us　children　about　Him；　oh！　so　differently！

〃Children；〃　he　said；　〃Jesus　is　not　dead。　He　is　alive：　He　loves　you；　and　wants　you　to　love　Him！　He　is　your　best　Friend；　and　He　will　show　you　how　to　be　good。〃

My　heart　beat　fast。　I　could　hardly　keep　back　the　tears。　The　New　Testament；　then；　did　really　mean　what　it　said！　Jesus　said　He　would　come　back　again；　and　would　always　be　with　those　who　loved　Him。

〃He　is　alive！　He　loves　me！　He　will　tell　me　how　to　be　good！〃　I　said　it　over　to　myself；　but　not　to　anybody　else。　I　was　sure　that　I　loved　Him。　It　was　like　a　beautiful　secret　between　us　two。　I　felt　Him　so　alive　and　so　near！　He　wanted　me　to　be　good；　and　I　could　be；　I　would　be；　for　his　sake。

That　stranger　never　knew　how　his　loving　word　had　touched　a　child's　heart。　The　doors　of　the　Father's　house　were　opened　wide　again；　by　the　only　hand　that　holds　the　key。　The　world　was　all　bright　and　fresh　once　more。　It　was　as　if　the　May　sun　had　suddenly　wakened　the　flowers　in　an　overshadowed　wayside　nook。

I　tried　long　afterward；　thinking　that　it　was　my　duty；　to　build　up　a　wall　of　difficult　doctrines　over　my　spring　blossoms；　as　if　they　needed　protection。　But　the　sweet　light　was　never　wholly　stifled　out；　though　I　did　not　always　keep　my　face　turned　towards　it：　and　I　know　now；　that　just　to　let　his　lifegiving　smile　shine　into　the　soul　is　better　than　any　of　the　theories　we　can　invent　about　Him；　and　that　only　so　can　young　or　old　receive　the　kingdom　of　God　as　a　little　child。

I　believe　that　one　great　reason　for　a　child's　love　of　hymns；　such　as　mine　was；　is　that　they　are　either　addressed　to　a　Person；　to　the　Divine　Person；or　they　bring　Him　before　the　mind　in　some　distinct　way；　instead　of　being　written　upon　a　subject；　like　a　sermon。　To　make　Him　real　is　the　only　way　to　make　our　own　spirits　real　to　ourselves。

I　think　more　gratefully　now　of　the　verses　I　learned　from　the　Bible　and　the　Hymn…Book　than　of　almost　anything　that　came　to　me　in　that　time　of　beginnings。　The　whole　Hymn…Book　was　not　for　me　then；　any　more　than　the　whole　Bible。　I　took　from　both　only　what　really　belonged　to　me。　To　be　among　those　who　found　in　the　true　sources　of　faith　and　adoration；　was　like　breathing　in　my　native　air；　though　I　could　not　tell　anything　about　the　land　from　which　I　had　come。　Much　that　was　put　in　the　way　of　us　children　to　climb　by；　we　could　only　stumble　over；　but　around　and　above　the　roughnesses　of　the　road；　the　pure　atmosphere　of　worship　was　felt　everywhere；　the　healthiest　atmosphere　for　a　child's　soul　to　breathe　in。

I　had　learned　a　great　many　hymns　before　the　family　took　any　notice　of　it。　When　it　came　to　the　knowledge　of　my　most　motherly　sister　Emilie；I　like　to　call　her　that；　for　she　was　as　fond　of　early　rising　as　Chaucer's　heroine：

〃Up　rose　the　sun；　and　up　rose　Emilie；〃　and　it　is　her　own　name；　with　a　very　slight　change；she　undertook　to　see　how　many　my　small　memory　would　contain。　She　promised　me　a　new　book；　when　I　should　have　learned　fifty；　and　that　when　I　could　repeat　any　one　of　a　hundred　hymns；　she　would　teach　me　to　write。　I　earned　the　book　when　I　was　about　four　years　old。　I　think　it　was　a　collection　of　some　of　Jane　Taylor's　verses。　〃For　Infant　Minds；〃　was　part　of　the　title。　I　did　not　care　for　it；　however；　nearly　so　much　as　I　did　for　the　old；　thumb…worn　〃Watts'　and　Select　Hymns。〃　Before　I　was　five　I　bad　gone　beyond　the　stipulated　hundred。

A　proud　and　happy　child　I　was；　when　I　was　permitted　to　dip　a　goose　quill　into　an　inkstand；　and　make　written　letters；　instead　of　printing　them　with　a　pencil　on　a　slate。

My　sister　prepared　a　neat　little　writing…book　for　me；　and　told　me　not　to　make　a　mark　in　it　except　when　she　was　near　to　tell　me　what　to　do。　In　my　self…sufficient　impatience　to　get　out　of　〃pothooks　and　trammels〃　into　real　letters　and　words　I　disobeyed　her　injunction；　and　disfigured　the　pages　with　numerous　tell…tale　blots。　Then　I　hid　the　book　away　under　the　garret　eaves；　and　refused　to　bring　it　to　light　again。　I　was　not　allowed　to　resume　my　studies　in　penmanship　for　some　months；　in　consequence。　But　when　I　did　learn　to　write；　Emilie　was　my　teacher；　and　she　made　me　take　great　pains　with　my　p's　and　q's。

It　is　always　a　mistake　to　cram　a　juvenile　mind。　A　precocious　child　is　certainly　as　far　as　possible　from　being　an　interesting　one。　Children　ought　to　be　children；　and　nothing　else。　But　I　am　not　sorry　that　I　learned　to　read　when　so　young；　because　there　were　years　of　my　childhood　that　came　after；　when　I　had　very　little　time　for　reading　anything。

To　learn　hymns　was　not　only　a　pastime；　but　a　pleasure　which　it　would　have　been　almost　cruel　to　deprive　me　of。　It　did　not　seem　to　me　as　if　I　learned　them；　but　as　if　they　just　gave　themselves　to　me　while　I　read　them　over；　as　if　they；　and　the　unseen　things　they　sang　about；　became　a　part　of　me。

Some　of　the　old　hymns　did　seem　to　lend　us　wings；　so　full　were　they　of　aspiration　and　hope　and　courage。　To　a　little　child；　reading　them　or　hearing　them　sung　was　like　being　caught　up　in　a　strong　man's　arms；　to　gaze　upon　some　wonderful　landscape。　These　climbing　and　flying　hymns；how　well　I　remember　them；　although　they　were　among　the　first　I　learned！　They　are　of　the　kind　that　can　never　wear　out。　We　all　know　them　by　their　first　lines；

〃Awake；　our　souls！　away；　our　fears！〃

〃Up　to　the　hills　I　lift　mine　eyes。〃

〃There　is　a　land　of　pure　delight。〃

〃Rise；　my　soul；　and　stretch　thy　wings；　Thy　better　portion　trace！〃

How　the　meeting…house　rafters　used　to　ring　to　that　last　hymn；　sung　to　the　tune　of　〃Amsterdam！〃　Sometimes　it　seemed　as　if　the　very　roof　was　lifted　off；nay；　the　roof　of　the　sky　itselfas　if　the　music　had　burst　an　entrance　for　our　souls　into　the　heaven　of　heavens。

I　loved　to　learn　the　glad　hymns；　and　there　were　scores　of　them。　They　come　flocking　back　through　the　years；　like　birds　that　are　full　of　the　music　of　an　immortal　spring！

〃Come；　let　us　join　our　cheerful　songs　With　angels　round　the　throne。〃

〃Love　divine；　all　love　excelling；　Joy　of　heaven；　to　earth　come　down。〃

〃Joy　to　the　world！　the　Lord　is　come！〃

〃Hark！　the　song　of　jubilee；　Loud　as　mighty　thunders'　roar；　Or　the　fullness　of　the　sea　When　it　breaks　upon　the　shore！

〃Hallelujah！　for　the　Lord　God　Omnipotent　shall　reign！　Hallelujah！　let　the　word　Echo　round　the　earth　and　main。〃

Ah；　that　word　〃Hallelujah！〃　It　seemed　to　express　all　the　joy　of　spring　mornings　and　clear　sunshine　and　bursting　blossoms；　blended　with　all　that　I　guessed　of　the　songs　of　angels；　and　with　all　that　I　had　heard　and　believed；　in　my　fledgling　soul；　of　the　glorious　One　who　was　born　in　a　manger　and　died　on　a　cross；　that　He　might　reign　in　human　hearts　as　a　king。　I　wondered　why　the　people　did　not　sing　〃Hallelujah〃　more。　It　seemed　like　a　word　sent　straight　down　to　us　out　of　heaven。

I　did　not　like　to　learn　the　sorrowful　hymns；　though　I　did　it　when　they　were　given　to　me　as　a　task；　such　as

〃Hark；　from　the　tombs；〃　and

〃Lord；　what　a　wretched　land　is　this；　That　yields　us　no　supply。〃

I　suppose　that　these　mournful　strains　had　their　place；