PROVIDENCE
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"It is very dark, but I am trying to put my trust in Providence," said a merchant, as he sat one evening in conversation with the minister of his church, who had called to spend in an hour with him. "Men are falling around me, like soldiers in battle; yet I am still on my feet, moving forwards, though not seeing the way clear before me for a single week. The Lord has helped me hitherto, when the way was as difficult as it is now; and though I tremble — I still look up in hope."
The minister listened, but did not answer at once. He saw that in the mind of his parishioner, God's providence went scarcely beyond the things of natural life.
"God is an infinite and eternal being, Mr. Harding," he said, letting his voice dwell, as he spoke, on the words "infinite" and "eternal."
The merchant lifted his eyes to the minister's face, and looked at him earnestly.
"His ends, therefore, must be infinite and eternal — and, in no case, limited to time."
"I am not sure that I understand your meaning," said the merchant, with a half-bewildered air.
"The providence of God, as I understand it," said the spiritual instructor, "regards, as of first and highest importance, the salvation of our souls from evil — and things temporal as always subordinated. If prosperity will in any degree help a man towards Heaven, or prevent him from sinking to a lower place in Hell — then God permits him to prosper in the world. And if adversity is needed for the same purpose, then adversity will come in spite of human prudence. It is always man's spiritual good which determines the action of Providence, not his natural enjoyment."
An expression of blank fear settled in the merchant's face. This was to him a new and alarming proposition; for though what is called a pious man, that is one strictly observant of all church ordinances, and exteriorly devout — his heart was in the good things of this world, more than in the heavenly things of the eternal world. He took delight in laying up treasure on the earth; and spent much care in guarding it from moth, and rust, and thieves. But in the work of laying up treasure for Heaven, he had really accomplished but little; for his heart was not in this work. There was no genuine love in his Sunday worship, no spiritual affection in his morning prayers. His religion was a kind of bribe thrown to God; a concession made for temporal security and final safety. No wonder that this new doctrine startled him.
"If your reading of the doctrine of Providence is correct," said he, after musing for a while, and speaking in a husky tone of voice, "I don't see much to encourage me in this day of sore trouble."
"Why not?"
"My spiritual well-being may — "
The merchant paused, unwilling to clothe his thoughts in words.
"Require the discipline of adversity," said the minister, concluding the sentence for him.
There was a sign of anguish in the merchant's face — of anguish mingled with fear.
"You bring me no comfort," said he. "This is a hard doctrine."
"What shall it profit a man, if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul?" The minister spoke almost solemnly.
"I do not want the whole world," answered the merchant, as if pleading for his earthly goods: "I am not covetous for great riches. My heart is not set on gold. I am content with what I have."
"But would you not be willing to part with all your possessions, if in doing so you could secure eternal felicities?" asked the minister.
"I don't see how my being crushed down now, and being overwhelmed with ruin — is going to advance my spiritual welfare," replied the merchant, visibly excited.
"My dear brother," said the minister, "God's ways are not as our ways. He is infinitely wise and infinitely good — and therefore cannot err, nor be unkind. He will permit nothing to happen to you or to I, which is not designed to secure in some way our eternal well-being. Let us not be like shortsighted and rebellious children, who resist the discipline of their wiser parents.
Your neighbor fell — but he was not outside the sphere of Providence, nor was the visitation in anger, but in tenderest mercy. It may be that you will pass safely through; but whatever is best for the elevation of your soul towards Heaven, will occur. Your Father loves you too well to permit temporal and perishing things to rule over and destroy what is spiritual. Let me beg you to submit yourself, as an obedient child, to the will of God. Work faithfully, vigorously; do all in your power, by honorable means — to sustain yourself, and leave the result to Him in whose hands we are as clay in the hands of the potter. Whatever comes, will be for the best; and you will live to see the day when you can look back and bless God even for misfortune, should it shadow your path of life."
As the minister was retiring, after having in vain striven to lift the merchant's mind upwards into a clear perception of the true doctrine of Providence, the latter said to him, in a depressed tone of voice:
"You have taken away my confidence. I was trusting in Providence, and hoping for a right outcome, even in the face of most discouraging signs. I was not faithless, but believing; now, doubt and gloom overshadow me. My strength is gone. I have no heart to struggle in the meshes that fetter my limbs."
"There is no night which does not precede a morning," replied the minister, as he held the merchant's hand tightly in his own. "In every death, is involved a resurrection. Nightshadows the heart with gloomy fears, and death comes with pain. But the morning breaks in joy, and, through the resurrection, we rise into a superior life. Do not shrink, then, from the dark night of misfortune, if it is to come — nor from the death of natural affections; for without the latter, it is impossible for spiritual life to progress."
Then, with a strong pressure on the merchant's hand, he turned from him and took his way homeward.
A sleepless night, did the merchant pass. It was indeed true that the minister's words had taken away his confidence. He could trust in Providence for natural good no longer. The truth had reached down and taken hold of his convictions. He saw that eternal ends were first and highest; and that Divine Wisdom could not have regard to natural things, except as servants of the spiritual.
"Hundreds of men as good as I am, and hundreds who are far better, have been stricken down in this wide-reaching calamity," he said to himself, as he pondered the new aspect of things; and can I say that the same hard discipline is not required for me? No, no, I cannot — I cannot."
Drearily broke the morning; and the merchant went forth to his business with a heart heavily oppressed; for he was not strong enough to accept the higher truth which had forced itself upon his rational convictions. He was not yet willing to give up his natural good — that spiritual life might advance. Reason had become clear, but the heart was weak. There was nothing to encourage him in the business of the day. New failures had taken place, and new losses shaken the business in which he was a partner to the very foundations. The most hopeful of all his partners, began to talk despondingly.
Two days more of struggle and loss went by; and then the partners met alone, in the evening, at their store, to take counsel of one another, and to ascertain, as accurately as possible, their real condition and prospects. The outcome was of the most disheartening character; for a hurried examination of their books showed that losses had already swept away their entire capital, and that if the ratio of losses among their entire list of customers was maintained, they would not have assets sufficient to pay forty cents in the dollar of their debts.
And so that terrible calamity, so dreaded by all honorable men, and so hard to accept — commercial failure — was at the merchant's door, and he saw no way of escape.
"We may save something from the wreck," suggested one of the partners.
"How?" was the eager question.
The means were proposed by which, in compounding with creditors, each partner might retain enough to get into business again.
"We can do it with the greatest ease, and none be the wiser for it," said the partner. "I can't see that we are called upon wholly to beggar ourselves. This disaster is not from any fault of our own. If we could get in what is due, we could pay dollar for dollar, and have a large surplus. Why, then, should we be made the victims of circumstances? I believe that I am as honest as any man living; but there are necessities which reach beyond human control."
Then followed a silent pondering of the plan suggested; and then the other partner simply said,
"It might be done."
"It can and must be done," said the one who had opened the matter. He spoke with energy. "Desperate diseases, require desperate remedies. I, for one, have no notion of being driven to the wall if I can help it — of tamely submitting, when a manful struggle will save me from total wreck."
"The plan involves subterfuge," our merchant, the senior partner, remarked.
There was no reply.
"And concealment."
"No great harm in that. We are not called upon to exhibit every aspect of our affairs to the world," was answered.
"And mercantile dishonor."
"You are too scrupulous, sir," replied the advocate of the plan — "altogether too scrupulous. Mercantile honor may become ideal and heroic. Remember that we owe something to ourselves and to our families. Self-sacrifice is not the genius of today. We are not required to throw ourselves under the crushing wheels of every Juggernaut-car which a contracted public opinion may send rumbling through our streets. No, no; it were folly to let events cripple us hopelessly, while there are time and means to avert such a direful calamity. Desperate diseases, as I have said before, require desperate remedies. Let us act promptly, and thus save ourselves from the worst."
The merchant was tempted by the specious plan, and urged to its adoption by the fearful consequences which impended. But the temptation proved his quality.
"There is only one right course for us," he said, in answer to his partner's earnest attempt to draw him over — and he spoke in a sad but firm voice — "and that is the straightforward, honorable, honest one of making a fair living. Anything short of this, may seem to involve a present good; but, depend upon it, evils worse than we now dread will be sure to meet us in the future, if we yield to dishonest suggestions."
But the partners were against him, and the contest proved long and angry. He did not yield, however; and without unanimous action, no scheme of fraud could be consummated.
A little while longer the struggle continued; then the business went down with a crash, and only with their lives, so to speak, did the partners escape from the ruins. Nothing was saved from the wreck of their fortunes. The creditors took everything, under a general assignment. The senior partner, in whom the highest confidence was placed, they offered to retain, for the purpose of setting up the business under the assignee; and the offer was gladly accepted, as it gave at least a temporary provision for his family.
Two months after the disastrous events, this conversation took place between the minister and his old parishioner. The minister had called to see him in his humble home. He was met with a smile on the paler face of the reduced merchant, and with a warm grasp of his hand.
"Cast down, but not forsaken!" said the minister, with an answering smile, and in a tone of cheerful encouragement, as he returned the earnest pressure.
"No, not forsaken," replied the merchant, with feeling. "Not forsaken, but sustained. I have passed through deep waters; the floods roared about me; but I was not overwhelmed. I was tried in the furnace, but the fires have not consumed me. If it is night, the whole sky is glittering with stars."
"Were you really happier before your misfortune, than you have been since?" inquired the minister. The merchant was thoughtful for a little while. He then answered —
"It may sound strangely, but I have since had states of mind which were nearer happiness, than anything enjoyed before. I am more tranquil, and patient, and resigned to the will of Providence. I can look deeper into my own heart, and understand its impulses better. My soul more clearly appreciates the higher value of spiritual and eternal things.
"Ah, sir, I now see clearly that better truth in regard to divine Providence, which you so vainly sought to make me comprehend a few short weeks ago. How blind and rebellious I was! How dim had my vision become, through love of the world. But, God let misfortune fall upon me for my good; and the hard discipline is doing its work. When the crisis came, I found the tempter at hand in my partners, who suggested that we should secure something for ourselves. But, I was able to resist; and in the most painful ordeal of my whole life, to maintain an undeviating integrity. How many, many times since, have I thanked God for the strength he gave me in that hour of darkness and sore trial."
"Then, you are really happier than before," said the minister.
"I am more peaceful, more trusting, more desirous of spiritual attainments."
"If more peaceful, then happier. God has permitted these natural misfortunes to come in blessing, not in wrath. And whenever prosperity can be given without danger to your soul, it will come again. Our Heavenly Father gives to his children of natural good, all that they can receive without endangering their eternal welfare; and He takes it from them, whenever the discipline of adversity is needed."
"It is plain to me, now, that I needed the discipline," said the merchant. "Without it, I never could have risen into my present views of providence — never could have seen, I fear, that all natural events are but a series of effects bearing upon spiritual and eternal things as ends in the Divine economy. And without such a perception, what dark, ignorant, groping creatures we are. How full of mystery is everything around us. How shadowed by doubts and vague questionings — the uncertain way we tread with halting feet."
"Enough," said the minister. "The lesson God designed to teach, you have quickly learned. Adversity has come as a priceless blessing; for you have exchanged . . .
gold — for spiritual wisdom;
the excitement of natural life — for heavenly tranquility;
a restless love of gain — for divine repose.
Ah, my brother; our Father in Heaven is better to his children, than all their fears!"
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