Christian fiction; Wingfold, Thomas (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
"You are fighting more than you know, I suspect, for you are
enduring, and that patiently. Suppose Jesus were to knock at the
door now, and it was locked; suppose you knew it was he, and there
was no one in the room to open it for him; suppose you were as weak
as you are now, and seemed to care as little about him or anything
else: what would you do?"
Leopold looked half amazed, as if wondering what his friend could be
driving at with such a question.
"What else could I do but get up and open it?" he said.
"Would you not be tempted to lie still and wait till some one came."
"No."
"Would you not say in your heart, 'The Lord knows I am very weak,
and I should catch cold, and the exertion would make me cough
dreadfully, and he won't mind if I lie still?'"
"That I wouldn't! What should I care what came to me? What would it
matter so long as I got one look at him! Besides, if he didn't want
me to get up, he wouldn't knock."
"But suppose you knew that the moment you turned the key you would
drop down, and when the Lord came in you would not see him."
"I can't think where you want to take me, Mr. Polwarth!" said the
youth. "Even if I knew I should drop dead the moment I got out on
the floor, what would it matter! I should get to him the sooner
then, and tell him why I didn't open the door. Can you suppose for a
moment I should let any care for this miserable body of mine come
between my eyes and the face of my Lord?"
"You see then that you do care about him a little, though a minute
ago you didn't think it! There are many feelings in us that are not
able to get up stairs the moment we call them. Be as dull and stupid
as it pleases God to let you be, and trouble neither yourself nor
him about that, only ask him to be with you all the same."
The little man dropped on his knees by the bedside, and said,
"O Lord Jesus, be near when it seems to us, as it seemed to thee
once, that our Father has forsaken us, and gathered back to himself
all the gifts he once gave us. Even thou who wast mighty in death,
didst need the presence of thy Father to make thee able to endure:
forget not us the work of thy hands, yea, the labour of thy heart
and spirit. O remember that we are his offspring, neither
accountable for our own being, nor able to comfort or strengthen
ourselves. If thou wert to leave us alone, we should cry out upon
thee as on the mother who threw her babes to the wolves--and there
are no wolves able to terrify thee. Ah Lord! we know thou leavest us
not, only in our weakness we would comfort our hearts with the music
of the words of faith. Thou canst not do other than care for us,
Lord Christ, for whether we be glad or sorry, slow of heart or full
of faith, all the same are we the children of thy Father. He sent us
here, and never asked us if we would; therefore thou must be with
us, and give us repentance and humility and love and faith, that we
may indeed be the children of thy Father who is in heaven. Amen."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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