the story of an african farm-第28章

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are　very　wise；　and　they　say　it　was　kind　of　God　to　make　hell；　and　very

loving　of　Him　to　send　men　there；　and　besides；　he　couldn't　help　Himself；　and

they　are　very　wise；　we　think；　so　we　believe　themmore　or　less。



IV。



Then　a　new　time　comes；　of　which　the　leading　feature　is；　that　the　shrewd

questions　are　asked　louder。　　We　carry　them　to　the　grown…up　people；　they

answer　us；　and　we　are　not　satisfied。



And　now　between　us　and　the　dear　old　world　of　the　senses　the　spirit…world

begins　to　peep　in；　and　wholly　clouds　it　over。　　What　are　the　flowers　to　us？　

They　are　fuel　waiting　for　the　great　burning。　　We　look　at　the　walls　of　the

farmhouse　and　the　matter…of…fact　sheep…kraals；　with　the　merry　sunshine

playing　over　all；　and　do　not　see　it。　　But　we　see　a　great　white　throne；　and

him　that　sits　on　it。　　Around　Him　stand　a　great　multitude　that　no　man　can

number；　harpers　harping　with　their　harps；　a　thousand　times　ten　thousand；

and　thousands　of　thousands。　　How　white　are　their　robes；　washed　in　the　blood

of　the　Lamb！　　And　the　music　rises　higher；　and　rends　the　vault　of　heaven

with　its　unutterable　sweetness。　　And　we；　as　we　listen；　ever　and　anon；　as　it

sinks　on　the　sweetest；　lowest　note；　hear　a　groan　of　the　damned　from　below。　

We　shudder　in　the　sunlight。



〃The　torment；〃　says　Jeremy　Taylor；　whose　sermons　our　father　reads　aloud　in

the　evening；　〃comprises　as　many　torments　as　the　body　of　man　has　joints；

sinews；　arteries；　etc。；　being　caused　by　that　penetrating　and　real　fire　of

which　this　temporal　fire　is　but　a　painted　fire。　　What　comparison　will　there

be　between　burning　for　a　hundred　years'　space　and　to　be　burning　without

intermission　as　long　as　God　is　God！〃



We　remember　the　sermon　there　in　the　sunlight。　　One　comes　and　asks　why　we

sit　there　nodding　so　moodily。　　Ah；　they　do　not　see　what　we　see。



〃A　moment's　time；　a　narrow　space；

　Divides　me　from　that　heavenly　place；

　　　Or　shuts　me　up　in　hell。〃



So　says　Wesley's　hymn；　which　we　sing　evening　by　evening。　　What　matter

sunshine　and　walls；　men　and　sheep？



〃The　things　which　are　seen　are　temporal；　but　the　things　which　are　not　seen

are　eternal。〃　　They　are　real。



The　Bible　we　bear　always　in　our　breast；　its　pages　are　our　food；　we　learn　to

repeat　it；　we　weep　much；　for　in　sunshine　and　in　shade；　in　the　early　morning

or　the　late　evening；　in　the　field　or　in　the　house；　the　devil　walks　with　us。

He　comes　to　a　real　person；　copper…coloured　face；　head　a　little　on　one　side；

forehead　knit；　asking　questions。　　Believe　me；　it　were　better　to　be　followed

by　three　deadly　diseases　than　by　him。　　He　is　never　silencedwithout　mercy。　

Though　the　drops　of　blood　stand　out　on　your　heart　he　will　put　his　question。　

Softly　he　comes　up　（we　are　only　a　wee　bit　child）；　〃Is　it　good　of　God　to

make　hell？　　Was　it　kind　of　Him　to　let　no　one　be　forgiven　unless　Jesus

Christ　died？〃



Then　he　goes　off；　and　leaves　us　writhing。　　Presently　he　comes　back。



〃Do　you　love　Him？〃waits　a　little。　　〃Do　you　love　Him？　　You　will　be　lost　if

you　don't。〃



We　say　we　try　to。



〃But　do　you？〃　　Then　he　goes　off。



It　is　nothing　to　him　if　we　go　quite　mad　with　fear　at　our　own　wickedness。　

He　asks　on；　the　questioning　devil；　he　cares　nothing　what　he　says。　　We　long

to　tell　some　one；　that　they　may　share　our　pain。　　We　do　not　yet　know　that

the　cup　of　affliction　is　made　with　such　a　narrow　mouth　that　only　one　lip

can　drink　at　a　time；　and　that　each　man's　cup　is　made　to　match　his　lip。



One　day　we　try　to　tell　some　one。　　Then　a　grave　head　is　shaken　solemnly　at

us。　　We　are　wicked；　very　wicked；　they　say　we　ought　not　to　have　such

thoughts。　　God　is　good；　very　good。　　We　are　wicked；　very　wicked。　　That　is

the　comfort　we　get。　　Wicked！　　Oh；　Lord！　do　we　not　know　it？　　Is　it　not　the

sense　of　our　own　exceeding　wickedness　that　is　drying　up　our　young　heart；

filling　it　with　sand；　making　all　life　a　dust…bin　for　us？



Wicked？　　We　know　it！　　Too　vile　to　live；　too　vile　to　die；　too　vile　to　creep

over　this；　God's　earth；　and　move　among　His　believing　men。　　Hell　is　the　one

place　for　him　who　hates　his　master；　and　there　we　do　not　want　to　go。　　This

is　the　comfort　we　get　from　the　old。



And　once　again　we　try　to　seek　for　comfort。　　This　time　great　eyes　look　at　us

wondering；　and　lovely　little　lips　say：



〃If　it　makes　you　so　unhappy　to　think　of　these　things；　why　do　you　not　think

of　something　else；　and　forget？〃



Forget！　　We　turn　away　and　shrink　into　ourself。　　Forget；　and　think　of　other

things！　　Oh；　God！　do　they　not　understand　that　the　material　world　is　but　a

film；　through　every　pore　of　which　God's　awful　spirit　world　is　shining

through　on　us？　　We　keep　as　far　from　others　as　we　can。



One　night；　a　rare　clear　moonlight　night；　we　kneel　in　the　window；　every　one

else　is　asleep；　but　we　kneel　reading　by　the　moonlight。　　It　is　a　chapter　in

the　prophets；　telling　how　the　chosen　people　of　God　shall　be　carried　on　the

Gentiles'　shoulders。　　Surely　the　devil　might　leave　us　alone；　there　is　not

much　to　handle　for　him　there。　　But　presently　he　comes。



〃Is　it　right　there　should　be　a　chosen　people？　　To　Him；　who　is　father　to

all；　should　not　all　be　dear？〃



How　can　we　answer　him？　　We　were　feeling　so　good　till　he　came。　　We　put　our

head　down　on　the　Bible　and　blister　it　with　tears。　　Then　we　fold　our　hands

over　our　head　and　pray；　till　our　teeth　grind　together。　　Oh；　that　from　that

spirit…world；　so　real　and　yet　so　silent；　that　surrounds　us；　one　word　would

come　to　guide　us！　　We　are　left　alone　with　this　devil；　and　God　does　not

whisper　to　us。　　Suddenly　we　seize　the　Bible；　turning　it　round　and　round；

and　say　hurriedly：



〃It　will　be　God's　voice　speaking　to　us；　His　voice　as　though　we　heard　it。〃



We　yearn　for　a　token　from　the　inexorably　Silent　One。



We　turn　the　book；　put　our　finger　down　on　a　page；　and　bend　to　read　by　the

moonlight。　　It　is　God's　answer。　　We　tremble。



〃Then　fourteen　years　after　I　went　up　again　to　Jerusalem　with　Barnabas；　and

took　Titus　with　me　also。〃



For　an　instant　our　imagination　seizes　it；　we　are　twisting；　twirling；　trying

to　make　an　allegory。　　The　fourteen　years　are　fourteen　months；　we　are　Paul

and　the　devil　is　Barnabas；　Titus　is　　Then　a　sudden　loathing　comes　to　us：　

we　are　liars　and　hypocrites；　we　are　trying　to　deceive　ourselves。　　What　is

Paul　to　usand　Jerusalem？　　We　are　Barnabas　and　Titus？　　We　know　not　the

men。　　Before　we　know　we　seize　the　book；　swing　it　round　our　head；　and　fling

it　with　all　our　might　to　the　further　end　of　the　room。　　We　put　down　our　head

again　and　weep。



Youth　and　ignorance；　is　there　anything　else　that　can　weep　so？　　It　is　as

though　the　tears　were　drops　of　blood　congealed　beneath　the　eyelids；　nothing

else　is　like　those　tears。　　After　a　long　time　we　are　weak　with　crying；　and

lie　silent；　and　by　chance　we　knock　against　the　wood　that　stops　the　broken

pane。　　It　falls。　　Upon　our　hot　stiff　face　a　sweet　breath　of　wind　blows。　　We

raise　our　head；　and　with　our　swollen　eyes　look　out　at　the　beautiful　still

world；　and　the　sweet　night…wind　blows　in　upon　us；　holy　and　gentle；　like　a

loving　breath　from　the　lips　of　God。　　Over　us　a　deep　peace　comes；　a　calm；

still　joy；　the　tears　now　flow　readily　and　softly。　　Oh；　the　unutterable

gladness！　　At　last；　at　last　we　have　found　it！　　〃The　peace　with　God。〃　　〃The

sense　of　sins　forgiven。〃　　All　doubt　vanished；　God's　voice　in　the　soul；　the

Holy　Spirit　filling　us！　　We　feel　Him！　　We　feel　Him！　　Oh；　Jesus　Christ；

through　you；　through　you　this　joy！　　We　press　our　hands　upon　our　breast　and

look　upward　with　adoring　gladness。　　Soft　waves　of　bliss　break　through　us。

〃The　peace　with　God。〃　　〃The　sense　of　sins　forgiven。〃　　Methodists　and

revivalists　say　the　words；　and　the　mocking　world　shoots　out　its　lip；　and

walks　by　smiling〃Hypocrite。〃



There　are　more　fools　and　fewer　hypocrites　than　the　wise　world　dreams　of。　

The　hypocrite　is　rare　as　icebergs　in　the　tropics；　the　fool　common　as

buttercups　beside　a　water…furrow：　　whether　you　go　this　way　or　that　you

tread　on　him；　you　dare　not　look　at　your　own　reflection　in　the　water　but　you