A PARABLE CONCERNING LITTLE TAPERS AND R THEIR FAR-SEEN BEAMS. A SERMON FROM SHAKSPEARE. EADERS, although not well acquainted with the works of Shakspeare, may still be familiar with those two beautiful lines, "How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world!” The language and the image are exceedingly graphic and expressive, and harmonize well with the direction that "our light should shine before men," so that from the human frame,—as the gleam from the distant window speaks of the interior of some house or mansion,-the little light we shed may speak of the kindling from the Father of lights. There is something very cheerful in a trembling light beheld shining over a waste. How well we remember, many years since, among the lanes in Gloucestershire, when, in the depths of winter, snow choking up the lanes and ways, we had almost lost our own way, the cheerful flashing of the fire-light from the farm-house whither our steps were wending, shining out clearly, although solitarily, put us quite at our ease, and not only sent a ray of cheerfulness into our doubting heart, but seemed to illuminate the whole white and dreary scene. Poets and painters have shown the effect of these solitary candles in their pictures and poems. That is very pretty in Wordsworth's Michael, where we read of the old shepherd and his wife in the valley of Grasmere-now many a long year ago : "Duly as the light Of day grew dim, the housewife hung a lamp; The light was famous in its neighbourhood, And was a public symbol of the life That thrifty pair had lived. For, as it chanced, Their cottage on a plot of rising ground Stood single, with large prospect, north and south, High in Easedale, up to Dunmail Raise, And westward to the village near the lake; And from this constant light, so regular And so far seen, the house itself, by all Who dwelt within the limits of the vale, Both old and young, was named the EVENING STAR. 116 COLUMBUS.-"HOW FAR YON LITTLE TAPER," ETC. But who knows what boon or blessing is conferred by the kindling of a little light in a dark place? not merely the gleam of the ruddy fire from the blacksmith's forge,-as we have sometimes seen it shining over a great waste, the pleasant light from the old hall, or the cottage window, but on greater occasions. Who kindled that light which saved the heart of Columbus from despair? His biographers tell us, from his own records, how, after long beating about upon the Atlantic, fearing that, after all, his dream of a great discovery would be foiled, and he defeated,— with a reckless and mutinous crew on board, he was meditating one night the possibility that he would have to return, and attempt to find his way back, to be greeted by the jeers and jests of Europe; in this frame of mind, one night, he climbed some tower of the ship-such as we should probably call the mast-head-and looking about over the waste of seas, the dark-spirited man saw in the distance what seemed to be a light. Could it be? and what could it be? He called for some of his companions to give their judgment; yes, it was assuredly a light, although shortly after they had sufficiently assured themselves of its reality, it disappeared. It was a little encouragement; the brave mariner held on his course through the dark and unknown seas, and when the morning broke, they found they were drawing near to land; the light of the night before had been a beam from some fisherman's hut; that light was the first gleam of the discovery of the New World; the first piece of realized hope which shone into the heart of the noble and much-enduring man; and although all these ages have passed away, that little light, kindled by unknown fingers, seems to be shining across the great Atlantic even now. How far that little candle shed its light! John Bright has said that, of all discoveries through all ages, there is none that can equal the discovery of America in its significance and importance; and is it not truly so? "Then said Evangelist to Christian, Seest thou yonder shining light?' He said, 'I think I do;' then said Evangelist, 'Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto, so shalt thou see the gate.'" In a dark night the light is often all that can be known about the gate; that where the light is, in its neighbourhood it is very likely the gate will be found. So, in lives innumerable, it has ever been, and so the word of life itself is described within us as "a light shining in a dark place until the day dawn.” Even of that book we quoted just now, of the poor, imprisoned, persecuted Tinker, it may be said, " How far yon little candle sheds its light!" It is surprising how a good, true book shines on like a light over a moor; little thought of, perhaps, by its writer, but, a true testimony, it keeps on its shining—the light in the life from whence it came sheds out its beneficent blessings to crowds of dark hearts which need some friendly human guide. This has been the fact with many a true and simple. tender-spoken word; it ought to make us very careful how we speak, when we remember that our words may be either as an extinguisher, THE LIGHT ON THE CLIFF. 117 putting out some last, trembling, glimmering of hope in a poor heart,— or that from their truth and cheerfulness, a poor, extinguished hope may be rekindled into light, and even comparative happiness and brightness. The Chinese have some good proverbs to this effect: "Words whispered in the ear may be heard for a thousand miles; " "One good word can warm for three winter months; "No single word can be recalled, a swift horse cannot overtake it;" "If your words are not good, hold them in ;" and, more to the point of the parable, "As the light of a single star may tinge the mountains of many regions, so a single expression many lives." "So shines a good deed in a naughty world." No light shines for itself-certainly not for itself alone. The poor candle, indeed, does not know the blessing it confers; but it can scarcely be that any life can give forth a light, however poor and simple, without itself enjoying something of its own blessing; and yet the little light it gives to its own room may be but a small portion of the comfort it confers all around. We may presume that most of our readers are acquainted with the well-known story of the poor old widow on some part of our island coast; she was the widow of a fisherman, and she had seen her husband and her son swallowed up by the cruel waters beneath their own cottage, which stood upon a hanging cliff, over a dangerous part of the approach to the little bay. She lived long after; but, always, through the night she kept a lamp kindled and trimmed to warn mariners away from the spot where she had seen her husband and her son go down. It was a little act; but the nature capable of it could never have been quite unhappy, or, in its grief, quite repining. To live in the bare idea that, possibly, by the little light, some wanderer on the cruel sea of things may be blessed and saved, implies a heart in possession of cheerfulness, hope, and heaven. Wherever His great words have gone who said, "I am the light of the world, and he that hath faith in Me cannot walk in darkness," innumerable souls have from them kindled their various little tapers, candles, and lamps; some more or less lustrous, some giving forth good and helpful words, some, as in the noble chronicles of Mr. de Liefde, in his "Charities of Europe,"-giving forth deeds; some as missionaries,-like Judson or Moffat, Williams or Carey,-carrying their lives as lights in dark waste places, but shining out so brilliantly that, in contrast with their frail frames and short lives, we may indeed say, "How far yon little candle sheds its light!" And now we have touched a vein on which we may leave the remainder for our readers to expatiate, and to remember that this is the true Church history-not the bickerings of Christians, nor the wars of Emperors, Kings, and Popes, not the rise of proud establishments, but the long procession of holy lights, kindled from His radiance who "walks in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks," to cheer the weary watchers and despairing hearts in the world's deep gloom. "If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!" Curia, Seest that proder ska ar;' ther sui Frangis. •Keep cremly thereat, st shut thou see Di tow?? the Mola cher al that can be bom shi Me pute; then where the hipla is, it is nagibourhood it is very Meyer be forma Say in Fres inumerable, n has ever been, & # the word of He reef is described within as a slight shining & sark part past the day daw? Bres of that book we quoted just now, of the poor, imprisoned, pes www take, it may be said, “How far you little candle sheds its lign: In a wurpring how a good, true book shines on like a light over a m woa rengia d, perhaps, by its writer, bat, a true testimony, it ke Pawing the light in the life from whence it came sheds on: watuma wasinge to crowds of dark hearts which need some frier This has been the fact with many a true and sim wowpoken word; it ought to make us very careful how we spe wish we remember that our words may be either as an extinguisher THE LIGHT ON THE CLIFF. 117 putting out some last, trembling, glimmering of hope in a poor heart,or that from their truth and cheerfulness, a poor, extinguished hope may be rekindled into light, and even comparative happiness and brightness. The Chinese have some good proverbs to this effect: "Words whispered in the ear may be heard for a thousand miles;" "One good word can warm for three winter months;" "No single word can be recalled, a swift horse cannot overtake it ;" "If your words are not good, hold them in ;" and, more to the point of the parable, "As the light of a single star may tinge the mountains of many regions, so a single expression many lives." "So shines a good deed in a naughty world." No light shines for itself-certainly not for itself alone. The poor candle, indeed, does not know the blessing it confers; but it can scarcely be that any life can give forth a light, however poor and simple, without itself enjoying something of its own blessing; and yet the little light it gives to its own room may be but a small portion of the comfort it confers all around. We may presume that most of our readers are acquainted with the well-known story of the poor old widow on some part of our island coast; she was the widow of a fisherman, and she had seen her husband and her son swallowed up by the cruel waters beneath their own cottage, which stood upon a hanging cliff, over a dangerous part of the approach to the little bay. She lived long after; but, always, through the night she kept a lamp kindled and trimmed to warn mariners away from the spot where she had seen her husband and her son go down. It was a little act; but the nature capable of it could never have been quite unhappy, or, in its grief, quite repining. To live in the bare idea that, possibly, by the little light, some wanderer on the cruel sea of things may be blessed and saved, implies a heart in possession of cheerfulness, hope, and heaven. Wherever His great words have gone who said, "I am the light of the world, and he that hath faith in Me cannot walk in darkness," innumerable souls have from them kindled their various little tapers, candles, and lamps; some more or less lustrous, some giving forth good and helpful words, some, as in the noble chronicles of Mr. de Liefde, in his "Charities of Europe,"-giving forth deeds; some as missionaries,-like Judson or Moffat, Williams or Carey,-carrying their lives as lights in dark waste places, but shining out so brilliantly that, in contrast with their frail frames and short lives, we may indeed say, "How far yon little candle sheds its light!" And now we have touched a vein on which we may leave the remainder for our readers to expatiate, and to remember that this is the true Church history-not the bickerings of Christians, nor the wars of Emperors, Kings, and Popes, not the rise of proud establishments, but the long procession of holy lights, kindled from His radiance who "walks in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks," to cheer the weary watchers and despairing hearts in the world's deep gloom. "If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!" |