CHAPTER IV.

Te Aroha News, Volume I, Issue 30, 29 December 1883, Page 5

CHAPTER IV.

THE STRANGER. Christmas morning dawned clear and bright. Over the distant hills rose the golden beams of the morning that should usher in the full, glorious brightness of the day. The day of rejoicing, the dawn of peace, the harbinger of eternal joy — when God the Father Lent His tender, pitying gaze upon His children, and stretched out His hand to bless them with His eternal peace. "Peace, peace, peace," was the sweet outburst of song that greeted the ears of the family at the Willows, as Helen's clear, powerful voice rang out upon the early morning air. " Peace, peace, peace," was the message gentle Mrs Arnott read when they knelt at family prayer that morning ; and, indeed, a sweet peace seemed to rest upon the little group that gathered in that happy home. The bells have rung out i heir Christmas weloome, and the worshippers of the Christ-

child are gathered together to listen to the sweet message of peace that He purchased with His blood, when the half-closed doors of St. AgneVs Church are gently pushed open, and the figure of a wan, weary -looking man appears on the threshold. Hid clothes are dusty, as with, long travel ; hir hair and beard are unkempt ; his boots are torn and dirty, and the old hat he carries in his hand is almost mirius a brim. Silent and unnoticed, he stands there, and listens — a strange, wistful expression upon his careworn countenance. The glorious message of love is being sung, and his dark 1 eyes moisten with unwonted tenderness as he hears the sweet angelic song " Behold, I bring you glad tidings of great joy," &c. He listens eagerly, and as the subtle charm of the music sweeps over his troubled soul, herepeats this one word of the anthem of love softly over and over to himself, the little word that forms the golden link between earth and Heaven, between God and man, '* peace, peace, peace." It is ended, the people sit down again, and the stranger sinks upon the low seat behind the door, and lifts his eyes toward the chancel, when, a voice proceeds that thrills his very being. What saith that voice, whose accents are so strangely familiar to this poor wandering stranger? "Arise, shine, for thy light ha« come." Grovel no longer in the darkness of doubt and unbelief or careless indifferpnce, but nrise, poor, care-worn child of earth ; the Father loveth thee. He is thy light, He is thy joy, He is thy peace. Come, join thy pong with that of angels and ransomed spirits of the just made perfect. Arise, cast off thy burdens, whatever they may be, however heavily they oppress thee ; cast them upon Him Avln careth for thee ; Him " who hath loved i hee with an everlasting love." Shine, rejoice, lift up thy weary soul to Him who can give thee light, and in His light shall thou see light, and the light shall make you free. There is peace with God through Christ, freedom, life, joy, and peace in Him, by Him, through Him, who is the Light of the World." Much more said the young preacher concerning that Light, but the old man heard him notj his spirit had drunk in the blessed truth that there was " peace " even for his storm-tossed soul ; and even as he doubted and questioned, his eyes rested \-pon a cricison scroll above the" altar, and like a message of peace came the sweet assurance, "Behold, I have loved thee with an everlasting love." And then he knew it was the Father's voice calling His wanderer home, and the soul of the careworn man became even as a little child, and there was peace, sweet holy peace, in another humble heart. As the congregation rose to disperse, the stranger hurriedly passed out of the porch and stood aside beneath a large spreading tree, as if waiting or watching for some one. And presently the young curate, accompanied by Gertrude and Helen, pas?ed close beside him. He almost held his breath, so eager was the scrutiny of the searching gaze with which he scanned ths young man's features. And Rosfl, as he pavssed, was instinctively attracted towards the desolate-looking stranger ; and, noticing his wistful looks, he held out his hard, saying gently, "A blessed Christmas to you, ' peace ' be with you." Then the old man drew his coat sleeve across his eyes, and murmured softly to himself—" 'Tis he ! He' has her eyes, her hair, her smile ; and the voice, too, is like hers. Oh !my boy, my boy that I dare not claim, and he said "Peace, peace. Would he forgive !"