April 1930
195
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
“We looked into the blazing west,-my s g h and I, and. wondered! ‘Jerusalem the golden,’ indeed! But the„voice went on : “ ‘They stand, those halls of Zion, all jubilant with song, And bright with many an angel, and all the martyr throng; The Prince is ever in them, the daylight is serene, The pastures of the blessed are decked in glorious sheen.’ “I looked at the sad young face of my only son and prayed in my heart, as only a father can pray, ‘O God! If indeed there be a God—O Thou Jehovah! If there be anywhere a pasture of the blessed, wilt Thou not lead my son there!’ I felt somehow, a response from somewhere-— as if a Father-heart, that knew what it was to have an only Son, had heard, and would answer. The song went on : “ ‘There is the throne of David, and there from care released, The shout of them that triumph, the song of them that feast; And they who, with their Leader, have conquered in the fight; Forever and forever, are clad in robes of white!’ “You See, Mademoiselle, I have learned it by heart— this old Crusader’s hymn. As the sun went below the horizon, one more verse: “ ‘O.h sweet and blessed country, the home of God’s elect, • Oh sweet arid blessed country that waiting hearts expect; Jesus, in mercy bring us, to that dear land of rest; . Who art, with God the Father, and Spirit, ever blest.’ “The clear resonant tones died away, and as they did so, my son turned to me and said with all his old impetu osity, ‘Father! There is help and comfort for us some where, and I am going to find it!’ With that he turned about and vanished over the hill, in the direction of the voice. I did not follow. I felt that my prayer was being answered. And I sat long, Mademoiselle, as the evening purpled and darkened. Then came the stars—as ever, punctual in their appearing. The young moon, too, which had been transcendent during the twilight hour, did not at once retire. All seemed to speak to my soul of the Infinite. For the first time in many years I knew a deep peace. It enfolded me. Finally I heard voices, and my son came back to me. He brought with him the man who sang. A very tall, thin man, of middle age. A returning mission ary, going back to the United States because of ill-health. He was returning the long way,‘ girdling the globe. He told us to call him ‘Brother Alan.’ ” Constance stifled an exclamation. She could not inter rupt this story which had an intense interest for her, but—r. was this the “Uncle Alan” Althea knew, away off in Cali fornia now? Was this the missionary uncle of Elise and Harold and Pauline and Little Sister—and the Thin Red Line generally ? But the story was continuing: “Brother Alan had been singing this song of Zion to comfort himself for the very disillusionment over Jeru salem from which we had suffered. Before we half told him, he understood us. His heart was like unto the heart of God in its sympathy and love. I cannot tell you of the sacred hours we passed on that hill above Jerusalem. Only this, he poured the oil of consolation into our hearts as he told us of the God of all comfort and of Him whom he called His Son. We talked far into the night, and when we returned, I could not sleep, but watched the Easter dawn as it quietly stole in and glowed above Jerusalem. I thought of these words :— ‘And very early in the morning the first day of the week, they came unto the sepulchre at the rising of the sun.’ It seemed strangely near and real that Easter morning to my soul. But: ‘Who shall roll us away the stone?’ my heart cried! The tomb was still sealed to me, do you see? Brother Alan came—I could
not-deny him. Our companionship was water in a thirsty .land. Tie made me understand, ‘For behold, thedar.kuess. shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people : but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.’ ‘The blessed hope’ he called it! ‘Beauty for ashes, the oil of joy, for mourru- ing.’ Well, my son, my Armand, was won to believe that Jesus—your Jesus, is our Messiah. He became a Chris tian.” He paused. “And you ?” Constance asked a little tremulously. “Ah! That is what I wish to talk of, Mademoiselle. You see it was always your lilies that were my good omen —perhaps I have what the psychoanalysts call ‘a complex.’ When I discovered you on this boat, I discerned again the leading of a something—a Providence maybe, somewhere. But when I found in your hand, which had brought me comfort so long ago, the Book—as my son calls it, I was nonplused. ‘It must be,’ I said within myself, ‘the hand of Cod.’ My son is awaiting me in Paris, Mademoiselle. He has found a group of what they call ‘evangelical Chris tians,’ somewhere near that city. It is his wish to learn of them. He wishes to fit himself to go to our people in our own land, the promised land, as a Christian missionary. He only lacks my consent. Now, my sister-in-law, who is something of a, Greek, a pagan, a beauty-lover, objects violently, and my brother is influenced by her. Our family always acts unitedly, you see. I have observed her pen chant for you and wondered again if God was leading. Could you talk with her, perhaps ? word from you—” “But you yourself,” Connie persisted. “As for me,.it is my wish to be with my wife in death as in life. I said to Brother Alan in Jerusalem, ‘Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.’ But with the fidelity of my all-too-faithful race I kept aloof, thinking of her. I gave myself instead to the great work that is going for ward in restoring Israel to the land promised to Abraham. Things are at a deadlock there. My wireless message gave me the latest of the ‘legitimate demands’ of the Arab. Ish- mael versus Sarah’s son!” “Your wife would wish you to be with your sop—I feel sure! I know it!” Constance cried. “I have taken Christ and He—wonder of wonders—has accepted me 1 I can testify, it is only the beginning of joys. ‘That'I may know Him,’ is my life motto.” They talked on and on and Constance told him of Al thea’s visit to them in Boston and how it had changed her life by bringing her face to face with One whom she could not resist. “But is it not wonderful that my first telling of this new-found faith should be to you—to whom I gave the Easter lilies so long ago!” “Dear Mademoiselle Constance! It is what you call one of God’s marvels!” “I do not go ahead as fast as Althea,” she confided. “She seemed to progress and grow so in the few weeks she was with us.” “Would it be very odd if a Jew, and one who is not even a Christian, should advise you? But Brother Alan made it very plain to, Armand, my son, that he must openly confess Christ. He kept quoting, ‘I f thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved’ Your failure to confess Him before the world is one reason for your slow progress, he would say,” (Continued on page 224)
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