FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT. Come! I do hear Him, and I am coming.' Yes, He was come, fulfilling His promise: 'I will come again, and receive you unto Myself, that where I am, there ye may be also.' Jesus can make a dying bed Feel soft as downy pillows are; While on His breast I lean my head And breathe my life out sweetly there. 'Can you tell me now how it is that Jesus makes death, which is the fruit of sin, a blessing to His people?' " It is because Jesus has taken away sin, which is the sting of death.' 'By dying on the cross, Christ abolished death and brought life and immortality to light; and now to His people death is the very gate of heaven. Do you remember the story of the first Christian martyr?' 'That was Stephen. When he was dying he saw heaven opened and Jesus sitting at the right hand of God.' 'And the prayers he offered in his last moments shew us how very like Jesus he had become. He prayed for himself, and then for his murderers.' I remember Stephen's prayers, mamma,' said Katie. 'He prayed, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit," and then he prayed for his murderers, "Lord, lay not this sin to their charge." 'And then in the midst of the stones thrown at him by his cruel persecutors, the Lord Jesus received his spirit, and his body fell asleep in Him.' FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT. FOR OR my part, I don't know what this talk about conversion means.' The speaker was a tall handsome girl of fifteen, forming part of a group of young people who stood round the window of a pleasant room, watching the fast waning light of an autumn evening. They had been gathering during the preceding week, and this evening they expected the last of their number to join them. School was a little dreary after the pleasant holidays; but home-sickness was passing away, and just now, they had an absorbing subject for conversation-the strange change in Mrs Greville, the head of the school. 125 From being simply a good honourable woman, she had become an earnest Christian, and took frequent opportunities of pleading with her pupils to come to Jesus. This particular evening, four of the elder girls were spending the half-hour of leisure before tea, in having a good talk. Kate Osborne, the first speaker, looked round on her companions defiantly 'Conversion!' she repeated, 'It seems to me a good deal of talk on the subject is just cant.' A slight tall girl, with a pale intellectual face, and large dreamy grey eyes looked up. 'I should like to be as good as Mrs Greville,' she said. 'Well, what's to hinder you,' cried Kate. 'There's some sense in being good, but as for talking about experience and faith, it's mostly talk. Don't you agree with me, Minnie?' turning to one of two sisters, who sat near each other, opposite to her. 'Oh really,' was the answer, 'the subject is quite beyond me. I don't see schoolgirls are meant to be divines.' 'I know something,' said Laura, sister to the last speaker, and, like her, fair and rosy. Mrs Greville was speaking of the new girl who comes to-night, and she says she is a Christian. The thoughtful girl, Isabel Cleland by name, looked up eagerly, but remained silent. Kate exclaimed 'I am glad to know it, I should like to know a good girl. It is natural old people should take to these things; but at our age it is different. But maybe it is also talk. I shall watch this Blanche Clifford narrowly; and, if she is like other people, I shall be sure my view of the matter is right.' Poor young disciple, an ordeal was before her. How would she come out of it? Blanche Clifford was just seen at breakfast next morning. She was about sixteen, but looked younger. She was not beautiful or brilliant, but her looks of innocent gentleness, and thoughful forehead, made her attractive to those who loved her. In a short time, she became familiarized with school-life, and pursued her very quiet course, unconscious of the curious eyes which watched her. 126 FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT. There was one who gazed at Blanche, with painful interest. Isabel Cleland was an excitable clever girl; at least so her companions considered her,-enthusiastic and romantic, always in extremes, and painfully undisciplined. She had lived on for fifteen years without Christ; but she was awakening to the danger of her position. She longed to be a Christian, and, as she looked at her young companion's consistent life, she wished much that she knew her well enough to seek help in the great matter of conversion to God. Unfortunately, the two girls were both reserved, and neither knew how to take the initiative. So, as perhaps was well, Isabel was left without earthly help. Girls,' cried Laura Manors, 'what can be the matter with Isabel Cleland? 'I am sure I don't know,' answered Kate Osborne, 'she looks as if she was going to be hanged.' 'Yes,' said Sydney Murray, she never speaks, or laughs; and she used to be up to anything.' 'She seems to try how uncomfortable she can make herself, if such a thing could be believed, said Laura, excitedly. 'Hush here she comes.' denied her, yet the latter's daily conduct showed her its reality, forming a practical comment on the passage-By their fruits ye shall know them.' The mists over the gospel scheme cleared away, and Jesus, willing to receive sinners, was revealed to the sorrowful girl. At His feet she rested, feeling that His promises could never fail; and casting aside her own works, she realized, 'there is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus.' Once more, the little school-world noticed a change in Isabel. She was trying to follow the Master, and to put a curb on the pride which had often made her almost insolent to those set over her. Still impulsive, and tempted to be tenacious in anger; often unpersevering, and vibrating between extremes of energy and self-indulgence ;— these faults were no longer allowed to be rampant. We have not space to follow her through her school-life. There was ONE beside her, who cheered and sustained her, who, she knew, would perfect that which concerned her. She and Blanche became friends, and helpful to each other. If you care for another glance of Isabel Cleland,-in a small cottage you may see a quiet woman, whose face is surrounded by a close cap. Hers is not a bright life; no children cluster round her, no husband's arm supports her, but she is happy; for through Christ's Blood she is at peace with God.' JESSIE P. MONCRIEFF. Isabel entered, pale and weary-looking. The elder girls were gathered round a pleasant fire, for the day was chill and damp, but she did not join them. Did a conscious criminal, as she felt herself, deserve the comforts of life? Hiding her face behind a book, she went to a distant part of the room, to indulge her sorrowful thoughts. This was the mistaken system A SCOLDING, passionate man was on which Isabel was going, seeking in her own strength to please God, and when she failed, flying for relief to acts of self-denial, which as their object was to satisfy her conscience, which could only be satisfied in the blood of sprinkling,' merely added to her despondency. Poor child, it was a weary way by which her proud heart led her; and the laughter of her companions added to her trials. Weeks and months went on. The Lord was teaching Isabel Cleland. Though conversation on religion with Blanche was BLESS, AND CURSE NOT. one morning swearing at his wife, when his little girl of five years old came into the room and said, 'Mother! I know my text; let me make haste to school.' 'What is the text, my dear?' said the poor mother, wishing to keep her child from hearing the oaths of the father. 'Bless, and curse not,' said the little girl, putting up her rosy mouth to her father for a kiss as she finished the words. The tears came into the man's eyes as the child departed. All that day 'Bless, and curse not' rang in his ears. He became a changed man from that time. God had spoken by the mouth of a little child. Signing of the National Covenant at Greyfriars, Edinburgh, 1580. JOHN Howie has not told us when or where John Craig was born. The story of his life begins in Italy, where he wandered, like so many of his countrymen, over the lovely Campagna, among the gleam of white villages, among the cool, large-leaved vines. It was when the great Michael Angelo, in his fervent, devout, old age, was painting the beautiful frescoes in the Sistine Chapel at Rome; or later than this perhaps when the famous church of St. Peter's was rising up, the last worship of the old artist's soul. John Craig, the young Scottish student, looking on the unfamiliar beauty, with the zeal of his new faith strong, and the memory of his grey moors and mountains, would speak in his keen youth, passionate, resentful words against the old Romish religion which had cost his loved land so much. And so he had to fly for his life, to fly across the Appenines, making haste beneath the starlight, and lurking always when the sun rose, in what nooks and corners he could find. Once all his money was spent. Poor and homeless and a fugitive, he knew not where to find help, when a dog, without a master, came running along the road, and dropped a purse of gold at the wondering stranger's feet. John Craig, you may know, would be very grateful and glad. He would love the dumb, friendly dog that had brought him this timeous aid. And his heart would rise surely in deep, trustful prayer and praise to the good, great Father in heaven who had cared for his loneliness. The money was enough for his journey, and he came safe home to Scotland, and became a minister in Edinburgh, where Mary was reigning then. And the next that is told of him is a very bold thing indeed. It is that he refused to publish the bans of Mary's marriage with Bothwell. On the Sabbath after receiving the command in a letter from the Queen herself, Mr John Craig, in the pulpit, declared it to all the people, telling why he could not obey-because he thought it wrong. When the Queen was told of it, she was very angry, and called him before her council. And the council reproved him; they said he had 'exceeded the bounds of his calling.' 'The bounds of my calling,' answered Mr John Craig, are the word of God, right reason, and good laws, against which I have said nothing.' So they put him out of the council; for they did not wish to hear him speak more, and they knew they could not force him to do what he thought wrong. For a long time no more is told about Mr John Craig, but after the Raid of Ruthven his name is heard again. You know about the Raid of Ruthven-when the young king was seized by his nobles to save him and themselves from the folly of lords Lennox and Arran. You have heard of the proud speeches the captors made to the king who was struggling, entreating, and shedding tears when he found himself a prisoner at Ruthven. 'Better bairns weep than bearded men,' said the haughty Master of Glammis. And the king forgot never the taunt in these bitter words. Afterwards, when those concerned in the Raid would excuse and explain their violence, Mr John Craig, the King's Minister,' has some part in the reconciliation which took place. But that which above all else has made Mr John Craig famous was the drawing out of the National Covenant in the year 1580. This, too, had an under-lying connection with these same lords Lennox and Arran, who were great favourites of the King, but favourites neither of the people nor the nobles. Lennox was a Frenchman by birth-he had a French title and estate, although descended from the ancient Scottish family whose name and title he assumed. He was also a Roman Catholic, and it much alarmed all Scotland that James, the boy king, should have such for his dearest friend. This alarm was not lessened, but increased, when very soon indeed, Lennox renounced his old religion and declared himself a Protestant. For at the same time letters from the Pope were intercepted, giving permission to his subjects to promise or subscribe whatever they were desired, if only in secret they always furthered the interests of the church at Rome. All Scotland was alarmed at this. And John Craig drew up the National Covenant which had so long and solemn a history, as you often have heard and read. It was signed first by the King's Majesty and his household;' afterwards by all ranks, Barons, noblemen, gentlemen, ministers, burgesses, commons.' And long afterwards twice signed by James's grandson, the gay, faithless Charles the second. It is too long to quote in full-a curious and vehement protest against all the rites and doctrines of Rome. It begins thus :— 'We all, and every one of us underwritten, protest, that, after long and due examination of our own consciences in matters of true and false religion, we are now thoroughly resolved in the truth by the Word and Spirit of God; and therefore we believe with our hearts, confess with our mouths, subscribe with our hands, and constantly affirm before God and the whole world.' . . . Then it goes on to state the belief of the Reformed Church, and to denounce with great length and vehemence the errors of the Church of Rome. with a thought of such converts as the facile, worthless Stuart of Lennox, it solemnly concludes:- We therefore willing to take away all suspicion of hypocrisy, and of such double-dealing with God and His kirk, protest and call the Searcher of all hearts for witness, that our minds and hearts do fully agree with this our con And |