Lo, I am with you always

There is a beautiful story, which some of you will probably know, as it forms the groundwork of one of the best tales of modern times, and which affords a noble example of what I have just been saying. The daughter of a poor Scotch farmer--her name was Helen Walker--after her father’s death, supported her mother by her unceasing labour, and by submitting to every privation. She had a sister, many years younger, whom she brought up and educated, and loved as her own child. This sister, however, brought great grief and shame upon her. She fell into foul sin. She was delivered of a child. The child was found dead. The mother was tried for child-murder. This trial was a terrible one for poor Helen. Notwithstanding her sister’s sin, she could not forget how she had loved her; she could not cast her out of her heart: she longed that her sister’s life should be spared, so that she might have time to repent. A fearful temptation assailed her. It seemed as though her sister’s life hung upon her word--a single falsehood might save her. If she would but say that her sister had made any preparations for the birth of the child, or had ever mentioned it to her, her sister would be acquitted. Her sister implored her; her love for her sister rent her heart; but Helen said, It is impossible for me to swear to a falsehood. Whatever betide, I must speak the truth. Thus the sister was condemned to death; and the thoughtless looked upon Helen as hardhearted. But she had shown that she loved God above her sister. She now showed how deeply she loved her sister, with a love far deeper than it would have been, had she attempted to save her life by a lie. She resolved to take up a petition herself to the King, to spare her sister’s life. She walked to London barefoot, a journey of above four hundred miles; such a journey in those days, a hundred years ago, being far more difficult and dangerous than it is now; and though she was only a poor, helpless peasant, such was the energy and boldness with which her love inspired her, that she gained the King’s pardon, carried it back on foot, and arrived just in time to save her sister’s life. I have told you this story, because it is such a beautiful example of the right proportion between love and duty, whereby both are greatly strengthened--of the right proportion between our love to God and our love to our earthly friends. It is an example too, which if we kept it in mind, might often help to admonish us of our duty. For the temptation which Helen Walker resisted is a very common one, and comes across us in a number of shapes. We are often tempted to do something that is not quite right, to say something that is not strictly true, for the advantage, as we deem it, of those whom we love; and because our love is feeble and shallow, and shrinks from pain and sacrifices, we yield to the temptation. Sometimes the temptation may be very strong. You, who are fathers, may see your wives and children suffering from want. At such a time evil thoughts will rise up; you will think you may do anything to save your wife and children from starving. So you may, and ought to do everything, everything in your power, and even beyond your power, provided it be not against the law of God. Whatever is, you should shrink from, remembering our Lord’s words, that, unless you love Him above wife and child, you cannot be worthy of Him. ( J. C. Hare, M. A. )