Library Collections: Document: Full Text

These words of the master made a deep impression on Jessy's heart. She felt peace and joy fill her soul, when she thought of that Saviour to whom she might always return, -- who would wash away her sins in his own blood, -- who would intercede for her, -- who would, if she trusted in him, deliver her from the power of all her sins, and enable her to do what was pleasing in his holy sight. After this, when she felt afraid to pray, she knew that it was her own evil heart which made her so, and that the longer she remained without confessing her sins and seeking forgiveness, the more would her fears increase, and the more averse would she become to pray; and then she would think of the awful state of those who were separate from Christ. These thoughts brought her often to her Saviour; and, therefore, she was enabled to overcome those sinful habits which she now knew were hateful in the sight of God, and from which she therefore earnestly prayed to be delivered. Jessy also constantly watched herself, lest she should be led into sin; for she had heard the Sabbath School master say, that those were only hypocrites who came to Christ, and prayed to be delivered from their sins, while all the time they really did not hate them, or try in every way they could to resist them. Jessy did not pray and labour in vain. In a short time, the school-mistress remarked, with praise, how very exactly she kept to the truth in all she said; and observed what a difference there was in that respect since she first came to school. Then she had always an excuse ready for every fault; and answered, on all occasions, what she thought would keep herself in favour, whether it was quite the truth or not; but now she considered before she spoke, and then told the simple truth, whatever might be the consequence.

This was sweet praise to Jessy, and cause of much thankfulness to that Lord who had been her Saviour from the power of this sin.

Many little girls are so carefully watched over, and instructed by their parents, that they cannot acquire such bad habits as poor Jessy's wicked mother suffered unchecked in her; but those girls ought to feel thankful to God for having had such parents, and to remember, that much smaller sins committed by them, must appear very wicked in the sight of a perfectly holy God, because they have always been taught what was right, and have always seen their good parents do what was right; for 'unto whomsoever much is given, of them shall much be required.'

When Jessy had been about a year and a half at school, a person, named Thomas Grey, came to lodge in a house near her mother's. He had been a soldier, and after having served long enough to entitle him to the pension, had got his discharge, and was now returned to spend the remainder of his days in his own country. Thomas Grey's wife was dead, and his two children doing for themselves. He was not however an old man, though much weather-beaten, and rather rheumatic, from having been exposed to very different climates; and thinking now that he might still be able to earn something by his labour, he wished to find a wife to keep his house, and prepare his food. After a very short acquaintance, he fixed upon Jessy's mother as a proper person, observing that she was a bustling body, and able to support herself and her daughter. Mrs. Allan was easily persuaded to marry Thomas, as she thought his pension would go a great way in supporting the family; she also hoped that he would be able to earn something. In short Mrs. Allan was so discontented, that she liked the idea of any change, and thought she could not, at least, be worse off than she was already; so with little consideration on either side, and scarcely any knowledge of each other, Mrs. Allan and Thomas Grey were married.

Poor Jessy did not much like this change, but as her mother told her that step-fathers were not like step-mothers, but were always kind to their step-children, she tried to be as obliging as she could to her new father. For some months, things went on smoothly enough. There was, however, one part of her step-father's conduct which poor Jessy found it very hard to endure. He never spoke without using some dreadful oath, or taking the name of God in vain. Jessy ventured to intreat him gently not to do so; and, at first, he said she was very right, and that it was a bad habit he had got; but this willingness to acknowledge the sinfulness of this evil habit, lasted only while Thomas continued in good humour with his new situation. When he began to perceive how matters really were, -- that his new wife was an idle slattern, who spent great part of her time in gossiping with her neighbours, while, excepting the attempt at order made by poor Jessy, her house, and little family matters, were left in utter confusion, the heat and violence of his temper began to show themselves; and, in his moments of impatience and anger, the oaths he uttered made Jessy tremble; and then even a look of entreaty from her only brought curses on herself for meddling, with her hypocritical, whining, and sanctified looks, while she had better look nearer home, and see what a ----- ------ mother she had. I shall not repeat the shocking names by which this man called his wife, or the most sinful manner in which she on her part replied to them. During the last six months that Jessy continued at school, these shameful scenes became more and more frequent; and as the time approached at which her mother said she must begin to earn her own livelihood, Jessy became most anxious to procure a situation as a servant. In this, however, she did not succeed. The schoolmistress recommended her to two different ladies; but, her mother, being anxious herself to profit by Jessy's wages, was so unreasonable in the terms she mentioned, as those on which she alone would part with her child, that both ladies declined taking her; and poor Jessy, who would thankfully have gone to either, on almost any terms, had no other prospect than remaining in her most uncomfortable home. Her mother took her from school, and made some exertion to get her work, and at last succeeded in procuring her constant employment in an upholsterer's shop. Jessy was very comfortable in this situation. She went to work early in the morning, and only came home for her meals, so that she saw less of the miseries of her home than formerly. When she returned after her day's work, her step-father was generally absent. Her mother, too, was usually standing somewhere near her own door, gossiping with her idle neighbours, and Jessy would slip into the house unperceived by them. All within she would find in confusion; but her first occupation was to make things as orderly as she could, and then she would sit down with her Bible, either near the window, or on a stool on the new-swept hearth, where there was none but fire-light, and read, and think, and pray, till she was interrupted by the return of her mother. These were precious seasons to poor Jessy; and sometimes, young as she was, she could, in thought, trace the ways of God, and, amidst all the disadvantages of her situation, see his mercy and kindness. 'It is true,' she would think, 'I have no parents, when I return from my work, who receive me kindly and encourage me, and praise me for my attention to my business, as the parents of some of my companions do; nor to make the most of what I can earn, in clothing as well as feeding me. My mother does not care though I am the worst clothed of all the girls in the shop, though I earn more than any girl of the same age; but I can discover that all this God can turn into good for me. When I return home, and find no mother, I think, though this house is empty, God is present; though my earthly parent cares little for me, my heavenly Father has done great things for me. He has placed me in so poor a situation, that my mother could not afford to pay for my schooling; but that led her to seek instruction for me from those who considered my soul's concerns their chief care. I have been carefully taught the way of salvation, -- I have been led to give myself to Christ, -- I have received this precious Bible, and been instructed in its meaning, so far as to know something of God, -- something of Christ, -- something of my own sinful state. I could have learnt none of this at home, and now, if I had a kind mother and a comfortable pleasant home to come to, should I remember God? Might I not be satisfied and happy, and forget Him? But, as it is, I can say from my heart, 'God is my portion.' When I return to this little solitary place, it is to meet God. My thoughts immediately go to Christ. It seems as if he was present with me, and I speak to him in prayer as to my very kindest -- only -- dearest -- Almighty Friend. I tell him all that is in my heart; and, when I wish to hear him speak to me, I open this Bible, and I read his own words. O how sweet and pleasant they are to my soul! -- then, whatever happens, still I feel near to him, and can say to him in the midst of outward confusion, 'Thou shalt bide me in the secret of thy presence; thou shalt keep me secretly in a pavilion from the strife of tongues.'