“Ye cannot be justified by the works of the law; for by the deeds of the law no man living can be rid of his burden.”—Pilgrim’s Progress.
“What ails you my young friend?—has anything painful happened?” said a kindly voice, and a hand was gently laid upon the shoulder of Mark, who was lying on the grass amidst the ruins of the old Abbey, his face leaning on his arms, and turned towards the earth, while short convulsive sobs shook his frame.
“Oh, sir!” exclaimed Mark, as a momentary glance enabled him to recognize Mr. Ewart.
“Let me know the cause of your sorrow,” said the clergyman, seating himself on a large stone beside him. “Rise, and speak to me with freedom.”
Mark rose, but turned his glowing face aside; he was ashamed to look at his companion.
“Sit down there,” said Mr. Ewart, feeling for the boy’s evident confusion and distress; “perhaps you are not yet aware that I have endeavoured to serve you—to procure you a situation with Farmer Joyce?”
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“I have had it, and lost it,” replied Mark abruptly.
“Indeed, I am sorry to hear that. I trust that no fault has occasioned your removal.”
“I stole his fruit,” said Mark, determined at least to hide nothing from his benefactor; “he turned me off, and he called me a hypocrite. I am bad enough,” continued the boy, in an agitated tone; “no one but myself knows how bad; but I am not a hypocrite—I am not!”
“God forbid!” said Mr. Ewart; “but how did all this happen?”
“I was thirsty, it tempted me, and I took it. I broke all my resolutions, and now he cast me off, and you will cast me off, and the pure holy God, He will cast me off too! I shall never be worthy of heaven!”
“Did you think that you could ever be worthy of heaven?” said the clergyman, and paused for a reply. Then receiving none from Mark, he continued—“Not you, nor I, nor the holiest man that ever lived, One excepted, who was not only man, but God, was ever worthy of the kingdom of heaven.”
Mark looked at him in silent surprise.
“We are all sinners, Mark; all polluted with guilt. Not one day passes in which our actions, our words, or our thoughts, would not make us lose all title to eternal life. The Bible says, ‘There is not one that doeth good, no, not one.’ Every living soul is included under sin.”
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“How can this be?” said Mark, who had looked upon the speaker as one above all temptation or stain.
“Since Adam, our first parent, sinned and fell, all his children have been born into the world with a nature tainted and full of wickedness. Even as every object lifted up from the earth, if unsupported, will fall to the ground, so we, without God’s grace, naturally fall into sin.”
“Then can no one go to heaven?” said Mark.
“Blessed be God, mercy has found a means by which even sinners can be saved! Sin is the burden which weighs us to the dust, which prevents us from rising to glory. The Lord Jesus came from heaven that He might free us from sin, take our burden from us, and bear it Himself; and so we have hope of salvation through Him.”
“I wish that I understood this better,” said Mark.
“I will tell you what happened to a friend of my own, which may help you to understand our position towards God, and the reason of the hope that is in us. I went some years ago with a wealthy nobleman to visit a prison at some distance. Many improvements have been made in prisons since then, at that time they were indeed most fearful abodes. In one damp dark cell, small and confined, where light scarcely struggled in through the narrow grating to show the horrors of the place, where the moisture trickled down the green
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 stained walls, and the air felt heavy and unwholesome; in this miserable den we found an unhappy prisoner, who had been confined there for many weary years. He had been placed there for a debt which he was unable to pay, and he had no prospect of ever getting free. Can you see in this man’s case no likeness to your own? Look on sin as a debt, a heavy debt, that you owe: do you not feel that you have no power to pay it?”
“None,” replied Mark gloomily; “none.”
“I had the will to help the poor man,” continued Mr. Ewart, “but Providence had not afforded me the means. I had no more ability to set him free from prison than I have to rid you of the burden of your sin.”
“But the wealthy nobleman,” suggested Mark.
“He had both power and will. He paid the debt at once, and the prisoner was released. Never shall I forget the poor man’s cry of delight, as the heavy iron-studded door was thrown open for his passage, and he bounded into the bright sunshine again!”
“And what became of him afterwards?” asked the boy.
“He entered the service of his generous benefactor, and became the most faithful, the most attached of servants. He remained in that place till he died; he seemed to think that he could never do enough for him who had restored him to freedom.”
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“Where is the friend to pay my debt?” sighed Mark.
“It has been paid already,” said the clergyman.
“Paid! Oh, when, and by whom?”
“It was paid when the Saviour died upon the cross—it was paid by the eternal Son of God. He entered for us the prison of this world, He paid our debt with His own precious blood, He opened the gates of eternal life; through His merits, for His sake, we are pardoned and saved, if we have faith, true faith in that Saviour!”
“This is wonderful,” said Mark, thoughtfully, as though he could yet scarcely grasp the idea. “And this faith must produce a holy life; but here is the place where I went wrong—I thought men were saved because they were holy.”
“They are holy because they are saved! Here was indeed your mistake, my friend. The poor debtor was not set free because he had served his benefactor, but he served him because he was set free! A tree does not live because it has fruit, however abundant that fruit may be; but it produces fruit because it has life, and good actions are the fruit of our faith!”
“But are we safe whether we be holy or not?”
“Without holiness no man shall see the Lord. Every tree that beareth not good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire.”
“But I feel as if I could not be holy,” cried Mark. “I tried this day to walk straight on in the narrow
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 path of obedience to God—I tried, but I miserably failed. I gained nothing at all by trying.”
“You gained the knowledge of your own weakness, my boy; you will trust less to your resolutions in future, and so God will bring good out of evil. And now let me ask you one question, Mark Dowley. When you determined to set out on your Christian pilgrimage, did you pray for the help and guidance of God’s Spirit?”
Mark, in a low voice, answered, “No!”
“And can you wonder then that you failed? could you have expected to succeed? As well might you look for ripe fruit where the sun never shines, or for green grass to spring where the dew never falls, or for sails to be filled and the vessel move on when there is not a breath of air. Sun, dew, and wind are given by God alone, and so is the Holy Spirit, without which it is impossible to please Him.”
“And how can I have the Spirit?” said Mark.
“Ask for it, never doubting but that it shall be sent, for this is the promise of the Lord: Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you. If ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?”
“And what will the Spirit do for me?”
“Strengthen you, increase your courage and your
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 faith, make your heart pure and holy. The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance. Having these you are rich indeed, and may press on your way rejoicing to the kingdom of your Father in heaven.”
“But how shall I pray?” exclaimed Mark. “I am afraid to address the Most High God, poor miserable sinner that I am.”
“When the blessed Saviour dwelt upon earth, multitudes flocked around him. The poor diseased leper fell at his feet, he was not despised because he was unclean; parents brought their children to the Lord, they were not sent away because they were feeble; the thief asked for mercy on the cross, he was not rejected because he was a sinner. The same gentle Saviour who listened to them is ready to listen to you; the same merciful Lord who granted their prayers is ready to give an answer to yours. Pour out your whole heart, as you would to a friend; tell Him your wants, your weakness, your woe, and you never will seek Him in vain!”
There was silence for a few minutes, during which Mark remained buried in deep, earnest thought. The clergyman silently lifted up his heart to heaven for a blessing upon the words that had been spoken; then, rising from his seat, he said, “I do not give up all hope, Mark Dowley, of procuring a situation for you yet; though, of course, after what has occurred, I shall find
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 it more difficult to do so. And one word before we part. You are now standing before the gate of mercy, a helpless, burdened, but not hopeless sinner. There is One ready, One willing to open to you, if you knock by sincere humble prayer. Go, then, without delay, seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near.”
Mark watched the receding figure of the clergyman with a heart too full to express thanks. As soon as Mr. Ewart was out of sight, once more the boy threw himself down on the grass, but no longer in a spirit of despair. Trying to realize the truth, that he was indeed in the presence of the Saviour of whom he had heard—that the same eye which regarded the penitent thief with compassion was now regarding him from heaven—he prayed, with the energy of one whose all is at stake, for pardon, for grace, for the Spirit of God! He rose with a feeling of comfort and relief, though the burden on his heart was not yet removed. He believed that the Lord was gracious and long-suffering, that Jesus came into the world to save sinners; he had knocked at the strait gate, which gives entrance into life, and mercy had opened it unto him!