"Isn"t there going to be any preaching to-night?" said Christie, in a disappointed voice.
"Oh! you"ve come to the service, have you?" said the woman. "All right you can come in, only you must sit still, and you mustn"t talk or make a noise."
Now, as poor Christie had no one to talk to, this was rather an unnecessary speech. However, he went in very meekly, and sat down on one of the front benches.
Then the congregation began to arrive; old men and little children; mothers with babies in their arms; old women with shawls over their heads; husbands and wives; a few young men; people with all kinds of faces, and all kinds of characters, from the quiet and respectable artisan"s wife to the poor little beggar girl who sat on the form beside Christie.
And, as seven o"clock struck, the door opened and the minister came in.
Christie never took his eyes off him during the whole service. And, oh!
how he enjoyed the singing, the last hymn especially! A young woman behind him was singing it very distinctly, and he could hear every word.
Oh, if he could only have remembered it to repeat to old Treffy! The words of the hymn were as follows:--
"There is a city bright, Closed are its gates to sin, Nought that defileth, Nought that defileth, Can ever enter in.
Saviour, I come to Thee, O Lamb of G.o.d, I pray, Cleanse me and save me, Cleanse me and save me, Wash all my sins away.
Lord, make me from this hour Thy loving child to be, Kept by Thy power, Kept by Thy power, From all that grieveth Thee.
Till in the snowy dress Of Thy redeemed I stand, Faultless and stainless, Faultless and stainless, Safe in that happy land!"
And after the hymn came the sermon. The clergyman"s text was Revelation 21:27: "There shall in no wise enter into it any thing that defileth."
He spoke of the Heavenly City of which they had just been singing, the bright, beautiful city, with its streets of gold and gates of pearl. He spoke of the river of the water of life, and the trees on either side of the river. He spoke of those who live in that happy place, of their white robes and crowns of gold, of the sweet songs they ever sing, and the joy in all their faces.
The clergyman also told them that in that bright city sorrow was never found. No weeping there, no tears, no sighs, no trouble. No tired feet on that golden pavement, no hungry ones there, no hot burning sun, no cold frost or snow. No sickness there, and no death, no funerals in heaven, no graves in the golden city. Perfect love there, no more quarreling or strife, no angry tones or discordant murmurs, no rude, rough voices to disturb the peace. And all this for ever and ever, no dread of it coming to an end, no gloomy fears for the future, no partings there, no good-byes. Once there, safe for ever. At home, at rest, with G.o.d.
"Would you like to go there?" asked the clergyman"s voice.
And a quiet murmur pa.s.sed through the room, a sigh of longing, an expression of a.s.sent. And little Christie whispered softly to himself, "Like to go there! ay, that I would, me and old Treffy and all."
""There shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth,"" said the clergyman"s voice. ""Closed are its gates to sin." My friends, if there is _one_ sin on your soul, heaven"s gates will be closed against you. "Nought that defileth, nought that defileth, can ever enter in." If all my life I had never sinned; if all my life I had never done a wicked deed, or spoken a wicked word, or thought a wicked thought; if all my life I had done every thing I ought to have done, and had been perfectly sinless and holy, and yet to-night I was to commit _one_ sin, that sin, however small a sin in man"s eyes,--_that_ sin would be quite enough to shut me out of heaven. The gates would be shut against me for that one sin. No soul on which there is a speck of sin can go into that bright city.
"Is there one in this room," asked the clergyman, "who can say that he has only sinned once? Is there one here who can say that there is only _one_ sin on his soul?"
And again there was a faint murmur round the room, and again a deep-drawn sigh; but this time it was the suppressed sigh of accusing consciences.
"No," said the clergyman, "there is not one of us who can say that.
Every one of us has sinned again and again and again. And each sin is like a dark blot, a deep ink-stain on the soul."
"Oh!" said little Christie, in his heart, as he listened to these words, "whatever will me and Master Treffy do?"
And Christie"s thoughts wandered to the lonely attic and to old Treffy"s sad, worn-out face. "So it was all true," he said to himself. "Miss Mabel"s words, and Master Treffy"s dream; all too true, all too true."
If Christie had been listening, he would have heard the clergyman tell of the way in which sin could be taken away; but his little mind was full of the one idea of the sermon, and when he next heard the clergyman"s words he was telling his congregation that he hoped they would all be present on the following Sunday evening, as he intended then to preach on the second verse of the hymn, and to tell them, more fully than he had time to do to-night, what was the only way to enter within the gates into the city.
Christie walked home very sadly and sorrowly; he was in no haste to meet old Treffy"s anxious, inquiring eyes. And when he reached the dark attic he sat down by Treffy, and looked away from him into the fire, as he said, mournfully:--
"Your dream was quite right, Master Treffy. I"ve heard it all over again to-night. He preached about it, and we sang about it, so there"s no mistake now."
"Tell me all, Christie, boy," said Treffy, pitifully.
"It"s a beautiful place, Master Treffy," said Christie; "you"d be ever so happy and comfortable if you could only get there. But there"s no sin allowed inside the gates; that"s what the clergyman, said, and what the hymn said too:--
""There is a city bright, Closed are its gates to sin.""
"Then there"s no chance for me, Christie," said the old man, "no chance for me."
And hours after that, when Christie thought Treffy was fast asleep on his bed in the corner, he heard his poor old trembling voice murmuring again and again: "Closed are its gates to sin, closed are its gates to sin."
And there was another ear listening to old Treffy"s voice. The man at the gate, of whom Bunyan writes, had heard the old man"s sorrowful wail, and it went to his very heart. He knew all about old Treffy, and he was soon to say to him, with tones of love, as he opened the gate of rest: "I am willing with all my heart to let thee in."
CHAPTER VI.
THE ONLY WAY INTO "HOME, SWEET HOME."
That week was a very long and sorrowful one to Treffy and to Christie.
The old man seldom spoke, except to murmur the sad words of the hymn, or to say to Christie in a despairing voice,--
"It"s all up with me, Christie, boy; no home for me."
The barrel-organ was quite neglected by Treffy. Christie took it out in the daytime, but at night it stood against the wall untouched. Treffy could not bear to hear it now. Christie had begun to turn it one evening, but the first tune it had played was "Home, sweet Home," and Treffy had said bitterly,--
"Don"t play that, Christie, boy; there"s no "Home, sweet home," for me; I shall never have a home again, never again."
So Treffy had nothing to comfort him. Even his old organ seemed to have taken part against him; even his dear old organ, which he had loved so much, had helped to make him more miserable.
The doctor had looked into the attic again according to his promise, but he said there was nothing to be done for Treffy; it was only a question of time, no medicine could save his life.
It was a very terrible thing for old Treffy thus to be slipping away, each day the chain of his life becoming looser and looser, and he drawing nearer each day to--he knew not what.
Treffy and Christie were counting anxiously the days to Sunday, when they would hear about the second verse of the hymn. Perhaps after all there might be some hope, some way into the bright city, some entrance into "Home, sweet Home," through which even old Treffy"s sin-stained soul might pa.s.s.
And at last Sunday came. It was a wet, rainy night, the wind was high and stormy, and the little congregation in the mission-room was smaller than usual. But there was an earnest purpose in the faces of many who came, and the clergyman, as he looked round at the little company when he gave out his text, felt that many of them had not come from mere curiosity, but from an honest desire to hear the Word of G.o.d. And he lifted up his heart in very earnest prayer, that to many in that room the Word which he was about to speak might be a lasting blessing.
The mission-room was very still when the minister gave out his text.
Little Christie"s eyes were fixed intently on him, and he listened eagerly for every word.
The text was this: "The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin."
The clergyman first reminded them of his last Sunday"s sermon, of the bright golden city where they all longed to be. He reminded them of the first verse of the hymn:--
"There is a city bright, Closed are its gates to sin."
And then he asked very gently and tenderly, "Is there any one in this room who has come here to-night longing to know of some way in which he, a sinner, can enter the city? Is there such an one here?"