The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1878-04-17
eyes. if we do not take the Lords word

L es, II we do not take the Loru worn
for it that our waiting will not be in vain
No, if we do. 1t is only our uDbelieVing
hearts that make it difficult. Why, Mrs.
Baker, if we perfectly trusted the Lords
tenderness as we trust His wisdom and pow
er, We would even choose to wait, or rather
We would always choose to let Him choose.
1t grows easier, too" added Miss Hetty, her
whole face suddenly lighting up. When
one has waited long time, one gets into the
habit of waiting"
Had she waited long, and for what! l
wondered, but 1 did not ask. With all her
freeness of speech there was certain silence
she had always maintained with regard to her
own history. thought it was because there
was nothing to tell. only repeated softly:
waiting on Jesus; know well
1t cannot be that shall wait in vain;
He sees the need l can hardly tell,
He counts the throbbings hope or pain,
His chosen time,-not mine,-is best,
And even waiting for Him is rest.
When 1 looked up, Miss Hetty, for won
der, had paused in her work, and was gazing
out of the window, with smile which made
the whole room seem to me as sacred as a
prayer.
The reward of one who had waited on the
Lord, the blossom. time of the lonely barren
life, was near at hand. The next day she
came to me,-not to work, that was all over
and gone,-but to tell me long story
When she went home that evening she found
a stranger sitting in her tiny parlOr, waiting
for her. He was an elderly gentleman, with
bent shoulders and silver-sprinkled hair
This was all Miss Hetty saw at first in the
6re.lt dusk.
ct hardly hoped to fad you still on this
side of DEATH was his strange greeting.
81 tarry by the Lords will, j." Miss Hetty
answered, gravely. "But, begging you par
don, do not recognize yOu.@
"Are you still Harriet Archer? pursued
her singular visitor.
| When Miss Hstsy answered eyes, he in
quired, 10 more tremulous tone, if she re-
membered Henry Martin, wild, dissipsted
lad, who had left that village thirty years
before. Miss Hetty, also in tremulOus
tone, said she did, and suddenly, the little
maid bringing in candle, she recognized her
strange guest as that once reckless, erring
boy. They both found out something else,
too. Miss Hetty, that the love which had
lain for so many years like an unfOlded bios.
som in her heart, had been the dream and
hope of another sorrovful life, sOr-
rowful even than hers,-because filed with
the sadness of sin. And Henry Martin, who
had kept the memory of his early girl-lOve as
the one pure, sweet thing in his heart
through years of dissipation, who in his turn
ing at last, a broken-hearted penitent, to his
God, in the autumn of his life, had come
back to her too, found that he had never
been forgotten, but that she had always
hoped for him, had been praying for him for
thirty years.
"Not that there has been any spoken bond
between Us all this time, explained Miss
Hetty. ave had only known and loved
each other all our lives. He had a quarrel
with his father aud ran away, vowing, he
says never to blight my life by linking it
with his. did not know shat; only knew
that ne had gone away without single word.
And 1 never did hear word until yesterday.
did not even know how l loved him until
he was gone, and then l was ashamed of it,
thinking he did not care; and the love folded
itself up and has lain deep in my heart, like
a bud that was never to be anything more
than bud"
Yes, always prayed and waited for
him., she said in reply to a question from
me. "Bat not for anything like this. All
1 asked was that he might come back to God,
and 1 waited, certain that in some way l
should hear when he died. never expected
anything as great as this"
was stricken dumb before this woman 8
faith. Just clasping the bare promise of
God, without one ray of earthly light, she
had lived her life of waiting, Such beau
tiful life as it had been too, so brave, 80 sun
ny, SO full of trust Year after year, look
ing for nothing for herself, wasting hen heart
in that one prayer for him, she had mingled
in our homes, shedding her tears only for our
sorrows, always meeting our smiles with
smiles, fashioning with patient fOgers and
clear, trustful eyes, many wedding robe for
happy girl, many snowy shrOud for a
heaven-ealled one, many dainty little ward,
robe for some joyous, proud young mother,
no one even guessing how her own life was
simply waiting upon God. It had been
beautiful poem,-tbis life of hers,-only,
like many poems of Gods writing, inscribed
in hieroglyphiCs, of which the world holds
not the key.
They we're married, these two elderly low
ers, already in the afternoon of life, the next
week. eve are both so old We cannot sf
ford to lose days in needless waiting" Henry
Martin said.
I dressed the bride for her wedding in a
simple robe of white, and something of the