The Argosy — page 274: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“‘ Beside all Waters.”’ 255 developed beyond his years. Rather as though to an equal he strove to set before him both the mystery and the blessedness of pain. The very finger of God touching humanity, the fellowship of His suffering, the true sonship with the Father. Strange thoughts for a child, and difficult to grasp, but every word seemed to fall like balm upon the little wounded heart. ‘‘And remember, my boy,” he added, ‘‘ God never makes a useless thing. He has put you into the world, and He has something for you to do; to be brave and true and to set forward the honour of His name. And be sure that it is through your blindness, the very thing that seems to you to make you power- less, that He has willed your work shall be done. It is because He loves you so dearly that He has made you a co-worker with Him to carry out His Will. We cannot understand now, you and I, but one day you will wake up and see the meaning of it all; and when you see it and see Him, then indeed you will be satisfied.” Life is full of such meetings and partings, and on the morrow the stranger went his way, but he left a blessing behind him. There -were those in the village who never forgot that sermon, and who still look back to it as a turning-point when they made their first real stand against evil, and groping blindly after God, sought until they were found of Him. ' But it was to the Rector’s little son that his message had come in all its fullest meaning—it was woven into the very fabric of the child life. He became once more the bright, merry little lad of old, yet with a difference ; gentler, tenderer, and more patient than he had ever been before. He grew to be the household comforter, the one to plan and think of endless little acts of kindness ; the one always at leisure to sympathise with every joy or trouble; always ready with hopeful words and caresses, that, as his mother often said, “took away the sting of things.” Andnot only in his own home, but by many a cottage hearth, his presence was as welcome as the sunshine ; while for himself he seemed to have ceased to trouble. “T shall see one day,” was his hopeful answer to any word of pity, and in that hope he rested. ‘Those who loved him best, as they caught his clear low laugh, and saw his sweet unselfish ways, and daily growth in true yet childlike holiness, gave ceaseless thanks to God for this their greatest earthly blessing. And even as they prayed they trembled, they scarce knew why—he seemed nearer heaven than earth. And the Preacher, what of him? He had returned again to his work, and the pressing needs and claims of his great city parish, the stunted souls and perishing bodies ; and the ceaseless strife with sorrow and sin once more absorbed every faculty. Yet the memory of that afternoon lingered long in his heart, and for the sake of it some three years later he turned aside on another brief holiday and stayed once more at the little inn. A man of few words, he asked no questions but shortly made his way towards the CoOnnicloookKks