They looked at each other as though a ray of sunlight had flashed
through their dwelling. Something akin to hope began to spring in their
hearts, but died away as the chilling blasts came moaning around them.
Three days passed, while the storm raged and threatened to bury their
home beneath the heavy snows. There was no food now to share between
them. The last crumb had been given the child to soften her cries of
hunger.
"I can stand this no longer," said the eldest, wrapping his garments
around him, and preparing to go forth to find labor and bread for his
brothers and sisters. "Ah, that I should ever have lived to see this
day!"--he murmured--"the day in which we are deserted and forgotten
by our father."
The sound of murmuring within now mingled with the sighing of the winds
without. He stepped to the door; but for an instant the fierce blasts
drove him back--yet but for an instant. "I will not add cowardice to
sorrow," he said to them, in reply to their entreaties not to go in the
storm. With one strong effort he faced the chilling sleet, which so
blinded him that he could not find the path which led to the highway;
yet he went bravely on, till hunger and chill overcame him, and he could
no longer see or even feel. He grew strangely dizzy, and would have
fallen to the ground, but for a pair of strong arms which at that instant
held him fast. He was too much overcome to know who it was that thus
enfolded him; but soon a well-known voice rose above the wind and the
storm,--he knew that his father's arms were about him, and he feared
no more. In the hour of greatest need the father had come. There, in
that hour of brave effort, he was spared a long exposure to the wintry
blast. A carriage laden with food, fuel, and timely gifts, for each, was
already on the road, and would soon deposit its bounties at the door of
those whose faith had deserted them.
What a happy household gathered around the father that night! There
was no need of lamps to reveal the joy on their faces, and the darkness
could not hide the tears which coursed down their cheeks. The little one
awoke shouting, in her child-trust, "My father has come! me knew him
would!"
And they called her Faith from that hour.
The only alloy in the joy of the others was, as the kind father explained
to them the causes of his delay, that they had not trusted him with the
faith of the little child; and when he told them of the strange people he
had been among, who needed counsel and instruction, and their great
need of his ministrations, they sorrowed much that doubt had shadowed
for a moment their trust in their father.
Thus do we distrust our Heavenly Parent; and when our needs rise
like mountains before us, and all _seems_ dark, we cry, "Alas! he has
forgotten us!" And yet in our deepest night a light appears, his strong
arm uplifts us, and we are taught how holy a thing is Faith.
V.
HOPE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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