The little Episcopalian

Front matter

LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN;

OB,

THE CHILD TAUGHT BY THE PRAYER-BOOK.

Preface

The Author of the present unpretending volume is persuaded that, in general, the members of out Church bestow too little time and attention in endeavoring to imbue the minds and hearts of the young with a just appreciation of the value and excellence of the Book of Common Prayer,

It has been the Author's design and wish, as far as lay in her power, to lead the little ones of the Church to thiuK more, and more justly, of those invaluable privileges which they enjoy ; and she is not without hope, that, through the medium of a story — all children love a story — they may be led to prize, as a treasure beyond price, the Liturgy of the Church, that sacred Liturgy which is so full of the Holy Word of God.

The Author ventures to say, that, conscious as she is of manifold shortcomings, she has donft what she could; and she commends her littlf vi

PREFACE.

volume to the parents and guides of the young in our Church, with the earnest prayer that God may bless it to the edification and comfort of many a little one who is now training for heaven and eternal joys.

fiUVTBTILLE, Ala.,

THK

LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN.

Chapter I

"I will say it; for it was naughty, it was wicked, for Mary Granville to speak so about the Church. I will ask mother if it was not."

As these words were uttered, two little girls entered the room where their mother was sitting; one of them, with flushed cheeks, and eyes sparkling with indignation, rushed up to her mother, and was just about to pour out her complaint, when Mrs. Melyille quietly laid down her sewing, and drew the child to her. Without apparently noticing her excited manner, the mothej took both her hands in one of her own, and with the other putting back the clustering curls that were streaming in wild disorder over her face, she asked :

Where has my little girl been?'' "As I came from school, mother,! called in at the church, to see the ladies making Christmas wreaths and, mother, isn't it naughty for Mary Granville to say-"

And, Bessie," interrupted Mrs. Melville, "why are they decorating the church ?"

" Because, mother, it is Christmas," replied Bessie, surprised that her mother should ask such a question.

" I know it, my dear ; but why is the church adorned with evergreens on Christmas, rather than at any other time ?"

"Because, mother," answered the child, "it is Jesus Christ's birth-day, and my Sunday school teachei says, that as the church is Jesus Christ's house, it is very proper to decorate it on his birth-day."

"Yes, my child," said Mrs. Melville, * that is all very true ; and can you tell me why Jesus Christ, who is God, consented to become a man, and to be born, at this time, a poor, little, helpless babe ?"

" Yes, mother ; He came down into this world to suffer, and die for us, so that we might go to heaven."

" Do you not think, my dear, the blessed Saviour must have loved us a very great deal to have been willing to leave his heavenly home, and come down into this world of trouble and sorrow, and live here for thirty-three years, just that we might go to heaven ?"

Yes," replied the little girl, "I think He must have loved us very much."

"And yet," answered her mother, " my little Bessie has been to that blessed Saviour's house, which they are now decorating just to remind us how much He loved us ; and, instead of her little heart being melted into gratitude for all his goodness, she comes rushing home to her mother, with red cheeks and flashing eyes, to tell something wrong that her little companion said."

Poor Bessie's little boscm heaved; she looked mortified and distressed; and aa the tears gathered in her eyes, and began to roll down her cheeks, she faltered out, " I did not know it was a sin to love the Church : I thought I could not love it too much, and that I ought to defend it whenever I heard anybody abuse it ; and Mary Granville said — "

"Far be it from me, my darling," interrupted her mother, to teach you to undervalue the Church. God himself tells us, in his holy Word, to " reverence his sanctuary" — the very building consecrated to his worship. I trust, my child, that you will always love the Church, devotedly and affectionately, and that, when you grow older, you will study and search out the reasons why you ought to love it, and thus be an intelligent Episcopalian. And ever, while you live, do I wish you to defend the Church against every false and unjust accusation; but, my child, I wish you to remember always to do it, as the Apostle enjoins, 4n meekness.^ I need scarcely say, Bessie, that I judge, from your manner, you have not exhibited this

THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN. H

meekness in your disagreement with Mary Granville. I have purposely prevented your telling me anything of it before, because I feared that, in your excitement, you might be betrayed into doing her injustice ; but now that you are calmer, I will hear all about it ; and think, Bessie, as you proceed, and be very careful not to exaggerate or color anything that occurred."

" I will try, mother," said the child, "to tell you exactly the truth."

So saying, she seated herself in a little chair at her mother's feet, and looking up, her eyes still glistening with tears, she said^ —

" As we came out of school, I asked Jennie if she would not call with me at the church to see how the ladies were getting on with the wreaths. She said she would; and Mary Granville, who v/as walking with us, said she would like to go, too. So we all went together. We walked all around, looked at the sentence over the pulpit, which is, ^Christ our Righteousness;' saw the star in the

East, and thought every thing looked very beautiful."

Heie Bessie paused an instant, and while a slight flush mantled her cheek, she resumed, with some eflfort- —

" I think, mother, I felt a little proud of our church, because none of the others, you know, are ever dressed up so handsomely, and perhaps Mary noticed it, as I turned and asked her, why they did not dress up her church on Christmas ?

She tossed her head, and said, * Because her church did not believe in any such ridiculous nonsense.' Now, mother, wasn't it wrong, wasn't it wicked, for her to speak so of God's holy Church ?" And again Bessie's cheeks glowed, and her bright eyes flashed with indignation.

Mrs. Melville's countenance assumed a very grave expression as she replied —

" Yes, my daughter, it was very wrong for Mary Granville to utter such words as these with reference to the Church. The term ^ ridiculous nonsense' is a very harsh one to apply to any religious custom, but it becomes a really sinful expression when applied to the usages of the Church of God, and is especially unbecoming from the lips of a child. I sincerely trust that Mary will see her fault and ask God's forgiveness ; and, my dear child, if you think that anything in your tone or manner provoked her to say this, you, too, ought sincerely to implore pardon from God for having tempted her to commit this sin. And what did you say in reply to this, my daughter ?"

"Before I tell you, mother, as I promised to speak the whole truth, I must say that Jennie — who was standing where Mary could not see her, but I could — laid her finger on her lip, and motioned to me not to say any more ; and I wish now I had followed her advice, for I do not think I did any good by what I said; but I thought I could not quite bear such a speech as that made about my Church, so I said, I cannot see that there is any more ' ridiculous nonsense' in dressing oui church with evergreens, to show our gladness on the Saviour's birth-day, than in hanging black crape all over your pulpit, 2

14 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALLIN.

last year, to show your sorrow when youi minister died."

A transient smile passed over Mrs. Melville's countenance at Bessie's reply, but she suppressed it before the child perceived it, and her face resumed its expression of grave seriousness.

Bessie continued: —

" * Yes,' Mary said, * but that was a very different thing.' And, mother, when she said this I got really angry, and I suspect I showed it, for my cheeks burned and I said to her, *I think myself it is a very different thing; Jesus Chrisi^^ at whose birth we rejoice, is God; Mr. Lawson, whose death you lamented, was a man : indeed it

15 a very different thing.' This is all, mother. I suspect Mary would have answered me, and I dare say we might have quarrelled there in the church, but Jennie came up just then, and looked at me so sadly, and said, * Come, Bessie, that will do, let us go home now ;' and then she put her arm around me, and drew me out of the church. Mother, I know I did wrong from the first. I see it all now, and I am very sorry for it ; but, most of all, I am sorry for what I said to dear, good Jennie; for when she told me, as we walked along home, how much she regretted what I had said, and that she was afraid it would only make Mary dislike the church, and never come there at all, I said, I did not care if she never came; for nobody ought ever to go to a church where they thought any thing that was done was ^ ridiculous nonsense.' Jennie is so patient; she never gets out of temper; never says anything hastily. I do not believe she ever did anything wrong in her life. I wish I could be half as lovely as she is. I am so sorry I was cross to her." Bessie's lip quivered, und her eyes filled, and as the arm of that affectionate sister, whose presence in the room she had quite forgotten, was lovingly passed around her waist, she turned and saw Jennie's pale, sweet face, and large, deep-blue eyes, looking fondly at her. The impulsive child ^lasped her to her bosom^ and sobbed out her sorrow that she had been cross

16 THE LITTLE EPISCOPAL! AN.

to her darling sister, and said so mucli to wound her feelings.

Mrs. Melville sat quietly looking at them, with no traces of emotion except the quivering lip. She was a woman of the deepest feeling, and had once exercised as little control over it as the impetuous Bessie ; but she had been severely schooled by affliction, and had learned to control herself, and would probably have passed, with those who knew her but slightly, as a woman devoid of any great sensibility. She had been for two years a widow, and the loss of an affectionate husband seemed to have left her to concentrate all the ardor of her loving nature upon these two children. She loved them both devotedly, and yet, although scarcely conscious of it herself, there was a yearning tenderness in her feeling towards Jennie, which did not exist in her heart for Bessie. Jennie was peculiarly endeared to her mother by the gentleness of her character, refined, as it was, by a deep and fervent piety, which was none the less sincere and earnest because seen in a child of only eleven summers ; while her delicate frame and languid step awakened a scarce acknowledged dread, that one so lovely, and yet so frail, might not sojourn long on earth

Mrs. Melville waiuvXi, without a word, until Bessie^s excited feelings had, in a measure, exhausted themselves; and then quietly said —

" I am glad, my child, to see you sorry for the manner in which you spoke to your gentle sister. You have asked, and obtained her forgiveness ; is that all you have to do?"

**No, mother. I must ask God's forgiveness, too; for I know lie cannot be pleased with such a bad-tempered girl as I have been to-day."

Very well," said her mother ; " I hope, Bessie, you will not forget it."

" Oh, no ! mother, I shall not do that/* replied she ; and, seizing her bonnet, the volatile child ran out into the yard to play, und quickly the remembrance of her sin and of her contrition had passed 2 away, "like the morning cloud or tlio early dew."

Mrs. Melville was a judicious as well as devoted mother. Her children and their welfare formed the absorbing thought of her heart. They were her world ; their society was her only earthly pleasure ; their happiness, all her desire. She had no worldly ambition for them. She intended, if she lived, to give them every advantage of education, and every accomplishment that money could purchase; and this not with a view to their making a grand display, and becoming, what the world calls, brilliant women ; but she considered it a Christian duty to improve, to the utmost extent, every faculty and every talent which God had given them, that they might be made happier and more useful. It was her design, moreover, to educate their hearts as well as ttieir minds, and this she considered too sacred a privilege to be delegated to any other person. She had none of that maternal blindness to their faults and imperfections urhich we too often see in mothers. On the contrary, she was constantly on the alert to discover them, and then she prayerfully directed all her energies to correcting them. Neither was she in a hurry to have her children perfect all at once, but would frequently wait whole days for a suitable opportunity to administer a reproof or notice a fault. She now felt sincerely sorry that her thoughtless child seemed so lightly to regard the advice which she had rather implied than given with reference to asking Grod's forgiveness, but fearing the effects of too much fault-finding, she said nothing at present, but silently resumed her sewing.

As Bessie bounded out of the room, in the exuberance of childish glee, Jennie's eyes followed her with an expression of sadness, and a sigh, scarcely audible, reached her mother's ear.

" What makes my little daughter sigh ?^ "I was wondering, mother," Jennie badly replied, "why I cannot run about and play, like Bessie, and all the othef little girls. But I always feel so tired, eveu when I am sitting still ; and if I try to play, it makes my head ache so, that [ have to stop directly. What is the reason, mother ? do you know ?"

A painfal chord was touched in the mother's heart, but she repressed the tears which dimmed her eyes, and, passing her hand caressingly through the long brown curls that floated over Jennie's shoulders, she replied, in a voice tremulous with emotion —

"It is, my darling, because you are not naturally so strong and robust as your sister."

*'But, mother, what is the reason I am not so strong as Bessie ?"

There was no avoiding a direct answer to this question; so Mrs. Melville replied —

" Because, my dear, Grod did not make y ou so. He did not give you as vigorous a constitution as He gave to your Bister."

"And why didii^t He, mother? Why didn't God make us both strong and well?"

" ^Lh, my child ! your mother cannot tell you that. Bat this I can tell you, Jennie: God has some wise and good reason for making you a frail, delicate little girl. You know, my darling, how it grieves me to see you sick and languid; you know, when you are suflfering pain, how gladly I would relieve you, by taking it and bearing it myself, if I could ; but you may be sure that God does not love to see you suffer, any more than I do, and that He would never let you have one moment's pain, if He did not have some merciful design in it."

Jennie made no reply ; and Mrs. Melville felt so saddened by the train of thought suggested by the child's questions, that she relapsed into silence.

The little girl fixed her eyes upon the floor, and for a few moments seemed lost in thought; then suddenly she loc^ked up earnestly into her mother's face ar. d said, " Llother, I will tell you why I think God did not make me strong and healthy, like Bessie. I think He is going to make me die before I grow up to be a woman." Mrs. Melville started, as if stung to hei inmost soul, for the child's words seemed but the echo of what was passing in her own mind at that instant. She clasped her child to her bosom, and exclaimed —

" May Grod, in his mercy, forbid it, my darling!"

A few minutes passed without a word being spoken, and then Jennie said —

"I believe, mother, if God would let me have my choice, I would rather go to Paradise while I am a little girl."

Mrs. Melville looked at her with bewildered surprise, and said —

" Why, my dear?"

" Because, mother, I believe the Saviour loves little children better than He loves anybody else. I was reading this morning about his taking them in his arms, and putting his hands upon their heads and blessing them. I would love for him to lay his hands upon my head and bless me, ^nd He cannot do it until I go to heaven."

"Yes, he can, my darling, and he did take you in his arms and bless you, when I carried you, a little baby, and had you baptized."

An expression of surprise covered Jennie's whole countenance, as she said, mth childish simplicity, "I never knew before that Jesus Christ was in this world, when I was a baby."

" He was not here, my child, bodily, as he once was ; but his minister took you in his arms and laid his hand upon you, when he signed you with the sign of the cross, and he blessed you in the Saviour's name. Do you remember, Jennie, when we went to see poor Mrs. Edwards, the other day, that I told her, if she would send up the next day, I would give her some provisions and clothes for her children ? and do you remember, the next morning, as I was going out, I turned back, and told you, that if she sent while I was gone, you must give them in my place?" Yes, mother, I remember it all."

"Now, Jennie, those articles were mine^ although you sent them, and if I had not told you to send them, you would have done very wrong to give tiiem away without my permission. Just so it was in you^-" baptism. The blessings which Mr.

iS4 THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN.

Kennedy promised yon were the Savionr's blessings, and if Christ had not told his ministers that they mnst act in his ])lace, they wonld have no more right to promise any blessings in his name, than you would have to give away what is mine without my permission. Do you understand this, my daughter?"

" Yes, mother, I think I do."

"So, then, Jennie, it was only because Christ was not here bodily to do it himself, that his minister blessed you in his stead; and, my dear child, the Saviour feels just as much bound to keep the promises which Mr. Kennedy made for him, as if he had himself held you in his arms, and blessed you with his own mouth."

" Mother, what promises did the Saviour make to me, when I was baptized ?"

Take your Prayer Book, Jennie, and I will show you."

Jennie went to a stand, on which lay a Bible and Prayer Book, of very large size, which Mrs. Melville used in her daily Simily prayers. Her slight frame tottered

THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAJT. 25 urider tlie weight of tlie heavy book, but she reached her mother safely, wiihoul letting it fall, and laid it upon her lap.

Mrs. Melville turned to the Baptismal service, and pointing to the place, Jennie read —

" * Ye have prayed that our Lord Jesus Christ would vouchsafe to receive him^ to release Mm from sin, to sanctify Mm with the Holy Ghost, to give Mm the kingdom of heaven and everlasting life. Ye have heard, also, that our Lord Jesus Christ hath promised, in his Gospel, to grant all these things that ye have prayed for; which promise, he, for his part, will most surely keep and perform.' "

That will do, Jennie," said her mother; do you know now what promises the Saviour made to you?"

The child hesitated a moment, and then thoughtfully shook her head.

" Well, my dear, we will look at them again. What is the first thing we asked the Saviour to do for you?"

Mrs. Melville pointed to the place, and Jennie read — S

"*That our Lord Jesus Christ would vouchsafe to receive himJ "

"Stop there, Jennie, and let us talk about that, and see what it means. To receive him — that is, to take the little baby as his own child ; to love him, to watch over him, to take care of him, to guard him from all danger. This is what we mean when we ask the Saviour to receive the child we bring to him. Eead what we ask for next. "

" ' To release him from sin.' "

" To release, Jennie, means to set free. Here we pray that God will help the child, as he grows up, to love to do what is right, and avoid what is wrong ; and that he will forgive him when he does wrong and is sorry for it. What do we pray for next?"

" ^ That he will sanctify him with the Holy Ghost.' "

" To sanctify," said Mrs. Melville, is to make holy. Here we ask God to make the little babe holy ; to give him both the desire and the power to grow better every day, and to become more like God. There is yet another thing that we pray for; read what it is."

Jennie read—

" * To give him the kingdom of heaven and everlasting life.' "

"This, my child, needs no explanation. Heaven, you know, is that blessed world, where the inhabitant shall never say, *I am sick where God shall wipe away all tears ; where there shall be no more sorrow, neither crying nor death ; and everlasting life is a life that has no end."

Jennie looked very thoughtful, and, pressing her little hand upon her forehead, said, musingly —

That must be a pleasant home where nobody is ever sick ; I think I would like to be there now, for then my head would not throb so. Now, mother, tell me over all these blessings at once. I can understand better what they are when you tell them to me, than when I read them myself."

Mrs. Melville repeated them carefully to the little girl.

" The Saviour promises that the person baptized shall be his own child ; that he will love him and take care of him; that he will help him to do what is right, and avoid what is wrong ; that he will make him grow better and better every day; and that, when he dies, he shall go to heaven, where he shall live for ever. All these things, Jennie, the Saviour promised to you, by Mr. Kennedy, when you were baptized."

"I wonder, mother, if I will be certain to have all these things.' "

" Eead what the Prayer Book says, my dear."

Jennie read —

" * Which promise He for his part will most surely keep and perform.' "

Her eyes wandered from the book, and she seemed lost in thought; then, suddenly starting up, she hastily asked —

" Mother, will Mr. Bennett go to heaven?"

trust so, my dear; but why do vou ask ?"

"Because he is very wicked. Would he go to heaven, if he were to die now, without being sorry for his sin, or asking Grod to forgive liim, for Christ's sake?''

" No, Jennie ; most certainly not."

" Why, mother, I heard him say, that he was baptized when he was a little baby; and you know, I just now read that Christ promises the kingdom of heaven to every child that is baptized."

^*Dear Jennie, we will talk a little about that. When I promised to give Mrs. Edwards those articles, I did not say, I will send my own servant down with them ; I told her if she would send up herself I would give them to her. Do you know why I did this ?"

Jennie shook her head.

" Because," replied her mother, I knew she could very conveniently send her little boy for them, and I thought if slif*- did not care enough about them to lake that much trouble, she could not be in very great need of what I had offered to give her. So, then, I did not promise those things to her absolutely but conditionally. If she sent, she would wely get them; if not, she would not 8* so THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN.

get them. Do you see this, my (laugh ter?"

" Yes, mother, I understand this per fectly."

"In the same way, my dear, has ou) Saviour promised us the blessings of his baptismal covenant; not absolutely, but conditionally."

" His baptismal what, mother " Covenant, my child. Covenant means agTcement, and you know it always takes two persons to make an agreement. I made the agreement with Mrs. Edwards, that if she would send I would give her what I had promised. I was bound to do it if she sent ; but if not, I was entirely released from my promise. Just so it is in baptism. The Saviour promises blessings on certain conditions, and on these conditions alone. I will show you what the Prayer Book says these are."

Mrs. Melville found the place, and Jennie read.

" * This child hath promised by you, nip sureties, to renounce the devil, and all his works ; to believe in God, and to Berye him.' "

That is sufficient, my dear. To renounce means to give up."

In another part of this service, the minister asks the person who brings the little baby to be baptized —

" * Dost thou, in the name of this child, renounce the devil and all his works, the vain pomp and glory of the world, and the sinful desires of the flesh?' To give up the devil and all his works; to try earnestly and constantly to resist the efforts which this evil one is always making to persuade us to do what will displease God; to give up all that love for the world, its fashions and gayeties, which will make us forget God, and so dissipate our minds that we cannot fix our thoughts on serious things ; and, lastly, to give up our evil tempers and wicked desires, to try and be meek and gentle, to love God and holiness, and to desire only those things which will make us better Christians and prepare us to go to heaven ; all this is the first promise.

*^The second promise whicli is made for the child is, that it shall 'believe the Apostles' Creed.' You know what that is, Jennie."

"Yes, mother," replied the child; and slowly and reverently she repeated the Creed.

When she had finished, her mother said :

"The last promise is, that the child shall, by God's help, 'obediently keep God's holy will and commandments all his life.' Now, Jennie, listen to me attentively, and I will tell you in a few words what baptism is. Christ is not in this world in his bodily presence ; so He tells his minister to take his place, and act in his stead. The little baby is too young to promise for itself, so its mother and father, or Christian friends, promise in its place. The minister calls upon the parents to promise that the child shall resist all the persuasions of the devil to make him do wrong ; that he shall give up all the gayeties and vanities of tlie world which interfere with his duty to God ; that he shall try and have a gentle and patient spirit ; that he shall believe the Creed ; and that he shall try all his life to obey God's commandments. These are the promises which the parents make for the child. Then the minister promises for Christ that He will love this little child, and take care of him ; that He will help him to resist the temptations of the devil ; that He will make him grow better every day, and at last, when he dies, and is risen again, will take him to heaven. This, Jennie, is what is meant by the baptismal covenant,"