A Tale of the Kloster: A Romance of the German Mystics of the CocalicoJabez, Brother
Religion
A Tale of the Kloster: A Romance of the German Mystics of the Cocalico
Jabez, Brother
Christian fiction; Ephrata Cloister -- Fiction; Seventh-Day Baptists -- Fiction
"He mistaketh me for our Brother Thomas," thought I, and so I said
smiling to him, "Nay, 'tis Brother Jabez; thou hast wandered from our
Kloster and hast fallen from this high rock, Brother Alburtus."
But he only glared at me as he replied in such weak anger that my heart
smote me, "Why dost thou torment me so, Thomas? Thou knowest I am David
Seymour, thy own brother!"
"What meaneth he?" thought I to myself; "surely his hurt hath taken his
mind from him so he knoweth not he is Brother Alburtus." Thinking it
best to humor him I spake gently, "Yes, 'tis thy brother; what aileth
thee?" To which he answered feebly, "The tree hath fallen on my head;
take me to the cabin to 'Lisbeth and the baby."
"Surely," thought I, "we know not what we say when the mind is wrong,"
but still thinking it better to humor him I merely said, "Yea, as soon
as help cometh we shall carry thee to them," whereat he smiled
gratefully and lay back more contentedly.
But though I sat and shivered by the side of our brother for hour after
hour, sheltering him from the cold with my cloak, I could see as the
afternoon wore on, and his sighing and groaning grew fainter and weaker,
that his days were numbered, and so with the sun's setting behind the
hills to the other side of the valley, there was opened for our
brother's coming, not the door of his humble cabin but instead the
ever-shining gates of those mansions beyond the skies He hath prepared
for his well-beloved children.
But now that the spirit of our brother had left its earthly prison
house, I stood for a few moments and prayed earnestly that his soul
might see clearly that which on earth had been shown darkly as through a
glass, to our bewildered brother.
Then it came to me like a great shock, what was to be done with his
body? At first, it seemed to me I could not let it lie in these cold,
dreary mountains. And yet I could not unaided bear him to the Kloster.
Neither was I certain I could find my way back on the morrow with the
Brethren, for these hills were utterly strange to me. And yet, for such
was my faith, though it may seem harsh to some, why could he not rest
here as well as anywhere else? The imperishable, immortal soul had gone
to its Maker; that which remained was merely the earthly shell that
would mix with the elements, no matter where buried.
Much against my will I finally persuaded myself I must leave him in this
wild, lonely spot. But I could not leave him exposed to the winds and
the rain and the beasts of the woods, and yet I had nothing to dig up
the hard frozen ground to make him a grave. And then just as I was about
to give up in despair thinking I could do no better than cover him with
brush, I saw a short distance farther up the mountain two long rocks,
meeting at one end, but spread out at the other like a sharp angle, the
opening toward me. Like a flash it came to me I could enrich these rough
rocks by using them as a resting-place for Brother Alburtus.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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