Chapter XV: Hunger and Thirst

MANY days had passed without bringing any news of Mark Dayál, but still his wife watched and prayed, believing that sooner or later she would see the answer to her second petition, as she had done to the first.

In the meantime, the school had been opened and Mary installed as teacher. At first, it hardly seemed as if this could be work for God, teaching the alphabet to children who at first seemed to make no progress, and only wished to play and tear their books.

When it came to the Scripture lesson, it was not much better; either they "could" not or "would" not remember, and every day the same thing had to be repeated.

But as time went on, a change came. The teacher found that if "some" of her pupils were dull and stupid, "all" were not, and as she saw their faces beginning to brighten with interest, and their eagerness to answer the questions put to them, her courage began to rise.

Perhaps one great secret of the change was this: Miss Elsemere came to the school one day, and seeing the teacher looking very depressed, and hearing her words of discouragement, she said as she was leaving, "Shall I tell you what has often helped me very much in my work? When I have had to teach those who seemed careless and indifferent, I have prayed,—

"'Lord, help me to love these children as Thou dost love them; give me
love like Thine.'

"And you know love makes everything easy."

Having proved the help of prayer in other difficulties, Mary was quite ready to try it in this also. She was not disappointed, and as she began to love her little pupils, she wondered how she could ever have thought them dull and unlovable.

But it was not only in her new work that Mary Dayál found that knowing Christ, and seeking to follow Him, had not changed the world in which she lived, though it had entirely changed her relationship towards it. Like Hira, she too proved that a soldier must fight, and many a hard battle she had to engage in.

Like Hira, too, she turned to Shushila for help and guidance. Doubtless they both felt, without saying so, that one who lived so near to God must know His will and be able to help others to do it.

One day Shushila found her friend looking more than usually downcast, and without waiting to hear the cause, asked, "What new trouble is it, Mary, which is making you look so sad to-day? Have the children been more troublesome than usual?"

"Oh, no, it is not the children; I think they get better every day. It is myself I am troubled about, for I seem to get worse daily. I thought that when I let the Lord Jesus come into my heart, He would turn all the evil straight out, and I would find it quite easy to be good; but it is not so. I have been doing my own works so long that it is almost impossible to leave them off and do only His works, though I do want to."

"That is just what Hira says," answered Shushila, "and I am sure all the followers of the Lord Jesus have to learn the same lesson. We have to find out our own utter weakness before we can prove the greatness of His power. It is not enough to commit ourselves to Him; we must also believe that He is able to 'keep' that which we commit.

"It often seems to me that many of our difficulties arise from this, that we so little know and comprehend the unspeakable 'love' and 'power' of our dear Lord. We are so inclined to think of Him as being like ourselves."

Mary did not speak, so Shushila spoke again.

"I have learnt so many new lessons since Hira came to live with us. She can do so little for herself, poor little one, and yet she is so anxious to that, she often gets into trouble.

"Only to-day she wanted to take a message to my father alone. I let her go, but she fell and hurt herself; presently she came to my side, and slipping her hand in mine, said, 'Sister, you take me.' I thought, 'Is not that just how it often is with us and the Lord Jesus?' We try to go our way alone, and do what we have to do without Him. If we would only in the beginning, put our hand in His and say, 'Lord, do Thou take me,' He would indeed fulfil His promise and keep us from falling."

Mary's face brightened as she said, "I am sure it was the Lord Himself who sent you to me this afternoon, for it just seemed as if I had come to such a difficult place that I could not go on any farther. Now I see that it does not so much matter if the place is difficult, if the Lord Jesus leads me over it."

Then after a pause, she said again, "It seems as if I have so much to learn, because all my life I have been doing things and seeing others do them which I did not think were really sins, but now I see they must be for those who are called by the name of Christ and profess to follow Him."

"What sort of things do you mean?" asked Shushila.

Mary paused a minute, and then answered, "I feel almost ashamed to tell you, because you are so good, but I have never thought it any harm to tell a lie sometimes, if it seemed necessary, or to go into debt. And as for grumbling and complaining if things did not go right, or getting angry if others did not please me, why, I have done it constantly, and never thought I was sinning against God."

"But what makes you think that these are sins now?" asked Shushila.

Mary smiled as she said, "Knowing you for one thing, for I see quite plainly that you do not do them, and if they are not right for you, they cannot be for me either. Then, too, I read so much in the Bible which I never noticed before about being holy. I cannot think now how I could ever have thought that I could be a Christian and yet do just as I like."

Shushila took up a Bible which was lying on the table, and opening it, read, "'The great God and Saviour Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself a people for His own possession, zealous of good works.' Whatever we or others may think it means to be a Christian, that tells us quite plainly what the Lord Jesus means by it, and why He gave Himself for us—not just to take us to heaven that we may be happy there, but 'to redeem us from all iniquity, and to make us a people for His own possession.'"

"But that must mean after we get to heaven," said Mary.

"I do not think it can mean that," answered Shushila, "because listen to what is written, 'For the grace of God hath appeared, bringing salvation to all men, instructing us to the intent that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, and righteously, and godly "in this present world," looking for the blessed hope and appearing of the glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for us that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself a people for His own possession, zealous of good works.' You see, it says quite plainly what we are to be in 'this present world,' not at any future time."

"But surely there are very few who do this," said Mary, with a sigh.

"Then all the more reason that 'we' should," was the answer. "Does it not seem very sad that the dear Lord should not see the accomplishment of His purpose? We may be quite sure that nothing less will satisfy Him than that for which He gave Himself. 'He died to make us good.' Does not the thought make us long to be so?"

Shushila found it was now time for her to return home, but she left a bright ray of light behind her. And as Mary thought over what had been said, she began to realise that what the Son of God had given Himself to accomplish, must be possible.

Then there came to her mind a text she had often repeated in her childhood, but little understood the meaning of, "Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled."

With all her heart, she thanked God for the hunger and thirst of her own heart, which brought with it the blessed assurance of future satisfaction.

THE RINGLEADERS.

BY CATHARINE SHAW.

"THAT'S our master!" said Jim.

"It isn't! He ain't a bit like that."

"You do it better, then!" said Jim.

"All right," said Ned, "so I will."

He took the chalk, and, with his companion jeering at him all the time, he rubbed out the first attempt and accomplished a second, much to his own satisfaction.

"Now I'll put him on his hat," exclaimed Jim, "and then we'll walk away and watch to see the old bird coming along. Won't he just be mad?"

There was a lot of loose wood piled up in the corner of their playground, which afforded delight to the boys at all times. Sometimes it served for a lion's den, at another for a castle, at another for a palace most rare and beautiful.

To-day, as the two hastened towards it, their imagination made it into a cave in which fierce robbers lurked, and they stealthily made their way behind some of the slanting pieces, and crouched down to watch for their victim.

It seemed a long ten minutes, and their patience was almost exhausted. They could hear the other boys racing and tearing and shouting in the field on the other side of the wall; and they almost thought of giving it up and joining the more lively game beyond.

Just as they had reached this conclusion, and were whispering it to each other, the head master came out into the empty playground. He glanced round, and then slowly began to pace up and down in the shade, his head bent and his hands clasped behind him.

"He's up to mischief," said Jim.

"No, he ain't; that's the way he walks mostly when he's thinkin'. He's not a bad sort," said Ned.

"N-o-o," assented Jim; "if you don't come across 'im too much. Hush—"

The master turned their way, and walked straight to where their sketch stood out boldly in the sun. The master came to a stand in front of it, and still he kept his quiet hands clasped behind him. Then he walked briskly towards the wood pile.

Jim and Ned shook in their shoes, or would have if they had had them. But Ned bethought himself that he had done no wrong. And when the master peeped down beneath the boards, his eyes met a candid pair of brown ones that somehow touched his heart with a sort of tender stab.

"Hullo!" he said. "What are you two doing here?"

Jim was covered with confusion, and could think of no ready answer.

But Ned, still looking into his master's face, added naïvely, "We was waitin' for someone, sir—"

"I suppose it is meant for me," said the master, smiling slightly. "Nobody else wears a hat quite like mine. Was it meant for a compliment?"

He sat down on one of the logs, and took Ned's soiled little hand in his. "You are the two boys who love to be called pickles! I was wanting to ask you both if you'd be my right-hand boys. I once had one such as you," he said, glancing at Ned, "and I wish I had him now, pickles and all!"

After that, the head master had no firmer friends than Jim and Ned, and somehow, when the ringleaders in mischief turned good, the rest followed.

The master never forgot that pair of brown eyes, and years afterwards, Ned became his greatest comfort, as his love that day had been Ned's greatest help.

HIRA'S QUEST.