How sweet the words sounded! And how dear the imagined face of Him of whom they were spoken!

"Tell me of Thy grief," he whispered. "Didst Thou cause grief?"

Words of Scripture again came to his help.

"Yea, a sword shall pierce through thine own soul," he heard Simeon say to the mother of his Lord, and it dawned upon him that when Jesus faced the cross with its agony He must have felt through His tenderest of hearts the sword-piercing of His Mother's sorrow. Ah, yes! He caused grief. And as He took His own way to the cross He raised a standard for those who follow of pitiless separations and of broken ties, if need be, for His kingdom's sake. "_If any man cometh unto Me, and, hateth not his own father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be My disciple_."

Texts that Hubert had pa.s.sed lightly before were now illuminated with meaning and power as the occasion rose for them to be translated into life. He found a rare sweetness of comfort in those which a.s.sured him that he need not fear he was out of the path of the Saviour's footprints, though he found them blood-marked or washed with many tears. He turned to some familiar words which he wished to see before him again in plain black and white. They were found toward the end of the ninth chapter of Luke.

"Lord, suffer me first to go and bury my father," said one in response to his Lord's "follow me." And said Jesus, "_Let the dead bury their dead, but go thou and preach the kingdom of G.o.d_."

"Let the dead bury their dead!" What a strange expression, and what could it mean! Hubert pondered the text, no longer in keen agony of mind, for his distress had lightened as he saw even on the painful way the light of G.o.d's will shining. Anything could be borne, if the face of the Lord still shone upon it!

"What does it mean?" he queried in deep meditation.

Slowly a meaning, not the full one, doubtless, but suited to his need, dawned upon him. Let the spiritually dead attend to the affairs of death. Let them follow the conventional, natural round, and answer always to the cries of human love and longing. Let them keep to earthly ties and earthly work. But let the living be about the affairs of life! A ministry waits that only living hands can serve. Let filial hearts render unto earthly love that which is due, but see that _thou_, child of G.o.d, render also unto G.o.d the things which are G.o.d's.

"There are a thousand things," thought Hubert, "that unregenerated men can do quite as well as any. Indeed, they have an affinity with earthly things that is lacking in the heaven-born man. To trade in iron and ama.s.s wealth does not require a living man. I will let others do it. The supreme business of my Father calls, and I must be about it. But my earthly father? Shall I wait first to bury him? The Lord says, No."

Hubert studied his pattern in His life as well as words.

"He was subject to His parents," he reflected, "until the time came for His ministry and He had reached mature years of responsibility. Then, when He had entered upon His task, not even His mother's voice could turn Him from it. When His friends thought Him beside Himself, and she with them sought to take Him away from His work, He said, 'Who is My mother? . . . Whosoever shall do the will of G.o.d, the same is my brother and sister and mother.' But He still was not unfilial. When not even the thought of the sword through her heart could take Him from the cross, He made provision for her, commending her to John's faithful love."

Hubert's eyes grew soft again with thoughts of his father. There was no need to think of provision for him, for he had enough. But he longed to give him always the joy of a son's tender love and companionship. Still the supreme call was inexorable, and another Father's business demanded filial fellowship.

"Thou must care for him, Lord," he said, and with a sudden impulse he knelt beside the library table and prayed that G.o.d would take away all the sting of his father's grief, and give him joy instead; joy in fellowship with the great Father in His giving.

After prayer he was much relieved and went to his work as usual, admitting to his office soon after his arrival Mr. Carew, who called in response to his wish of the day before. Hubert had more to offer than the financial gift contemplated.

CHAPTER XVIII

G.o.d, MY EXCEEDING JOY

A heavy cloud hung over the house for days. Mr. Gray was silent and sad. All attempts to renew the conversation of that painful Thursday morning were waived aside. Hubert was at a loss to know how to proceed with his project, but he and Winifred gave themselves to diligent prayer. As to the latter, sharp as was her grief at the thought of parting with her brother, her love for G.o.d was stronger, and she did not hesitate for a moment in her consent that he should go.

"I do not know any other answer to give to G.o.d," she said. "Surely I have nothing too precious for Him, when He has given all to me. And you know," she said with a radiant smile, "Hubert and I can never lose each other! We cannot lose what is in Christ!"

She made these remarks to Adele Forrester, to whom the matter of Hubert's call to foreign service was communicated. Her friend listened very quietly.

Adele had been steadily growing in G.o.d's grace since the day when His way of salvation dawned so brightly upon her. She was the same merry-hearted young woman as before, but a certain womanly sweetness, never really lacking beneath the gay exterior, developed in ever-increasing winsomeness. A capacity for intense enjoyment found new sources for its filling in the knowledge of Jesus Christ, and she pursued faithfully and happily the ways she saw of serving Him. To-day she received Winifred's news with evident sympathy, but with a reserve of feeling not expressed.

"Our Bishop preached a splendid missionary sermon two weeks ago," she remarked. "He made things very plain indeed. I think we all felt that we had been almost traitors in not rallying to the Lord's standard better than we had done. Even d.i.c.k paid some attention, for he said after church--you know what a tease he is--'_now_ I hope you see where you ought to be!'"

"Oh, Adele," said Winifred, "I haven't thought to ask you in months how the choir is getting along. The mention of d.i.c.k reminds me. Do you still enjoy your singing?"

Adele laughed. "My 'occupation's gone,'" she said. "We are supplanted by a boy choir. The present minister likes that better. A saucy little fellow who brings our evening paper and fights his business compet.i.tors once in a while is one of our successors. He looks quite cherubic in a surplice."

"And you?"

"I sing praises in the congregation, and what is left over I sometimes offer in the mission."

"So you still keep up your service at the mission?"

"Oh, yes!"

Adele did not add how much appreciated were those services, nor how she had added visitation amongst the families represented at the mission to the evident blessing of not a few.

Their conversation drifted back to the subject of Hubert's leaving, and Adele entered a compact of prayer for the right development of all things relating to it.

Gradually the Spirit of G.o.d wrought in the heart of Robert Gray. He was led to think of the darkness of unbelief out of which his son had been brought, and to consider how fitting a thing it was that a life thus renewed should be held at the command of G.o.d. But it was hard to think of him as a foreign missionary! Mr. Gray had believed theoretically in the cause of missions and had given a yearly subscription to the society representing it. But to give his son--ah, that was a different matter! At the first shock of the thought he had recoiled, and a naturally stubborn heart kept the question at bay for a time. But he could not long fight with G.o.d. The fellowship lost while he steeled his heart against the unwelcome demand was too great a price to pay. Gradually it came to him that the greater weight that bowed his soul and took the joyous spring from life was not Hubert's proposed leaving, but the hiding of G.o.d's face.

"In thy favor is life," he prayed. "Any bereavement would be better than for Thee to hide Thy face from me."

And the Face shone out again as his softened will loosened its tenacious grip of that it held. But still he was a man of strong opinions, and slow to be convinced that his clear-headed, business-like son was the one to follow the still hazy-seeming, far-off life of a missionary.

It was a happy day when the ban was lifted from the subject and Hubert was free to discuss it with his father and arrange business matters for a separation. A new element in the matter taxed the sympathy of the hard-headed business man, when it became apparent that his. .h.i.therto practical son intended not only withdrawing his active partnership from the firm of Robert Gray & Son, but to sell his interest in the concern, liberating the proceeds for the use of G.o.d.

"What folly!" said the elder man frankly.

"Do you remember our discussion of the Scripture about it?" replied Hubert, smiling. "I think I submitted to you the conclusions drawn from a study concerning it. I might as well act upon my convictions, or I shall lose them. You know what James says about the 'hearers only' of the word?"

"Yes, I know what he says," said his father a little testily. "But about this money question there must be a sensible middle course somewhere between a fanatical giving away everything you have and a close-fisted holding on to it all. Give to the Lord of your first fruits, certainly. That is a good thing. But a man ought to look out for himself."

"Yes," said Hubert, "I believe there is a rational course to be followed, and perhaps the Lord may not wish to hereafter provide for me miraculously that which I now have in hand naturally. I do not see all the details clearly yet. But certainly over and above my own necessities--which will be simple--there is something to lay at once at the feet of the Lord. I am glad I have so much for Him."

"Don't let your enthusiasm run away with your common sense. Try to be practical."

"I think I am practical," said Hubert, smiling again, "although it is hard for a man to judge his own actions. It seems to me the practical way to give is to give. The people whom I consider impractical are those who, having an abundance for themselves, dole out pittances for the Lord and regret they are so little! The poor, perplexed ladies in the missionary society vex their brains in planning how to 'raise'

something for Him. They take mite-boxes themselves, and they encourage the gifts of the poor, the children, the babies--and even the dolls, I am told! It is very pathetic. But why does it never occur to them--to those who can afford it, I mean--to _give_? That is what I should call practical. I suppose Mrs. Greenman did not find much difficulty in 'raising' enough money to pay for her swell reception the day after the missionary meeting, I saw the street lined with carriages and heard an orchestra playing inside as I pa.s.sed. We can imagine the decorations and the fine gowning. Now that was practical. What she wanted was a fine display, and she practically put her hand in her pocket and paid for it. But she says they cannot all do what they would like for missions! Why do they plead poverty there? Mrs. Greenman would not like to have her husband poorly rated in Bradstreet's, and I am sure she did not wish to have her guests the other day think of poverty.

But before the Lord--ah, maybe that is what they think it is to be '_poor in spirit_!' But if they would be honest! If she should say, now, in the missionary meeting: 'The amount raised is not what we might have given, but it is all we really wish to give in view of the luncheon parties, fine dresses, and all that sort of thing, that we find more important,' I think that way of putting it would be practical, and honest withal."

Mr. Gray actually laughed, and the sound was music to his son's ears.

"Very good, Hubert," he said. "You had better give them a lecture."

"Had I not better give them an object lesson?" Hubert suggested instead.

"There is one thing you cannot do," Mr. Gray said with a sly triumph.

Hubert looked at him inquiringly. "You cannot give away your mother's legacy. The terms of the will provide for that. The property cannot be alienated."

Hubert looked at his father blankly for a moment. The fact stated he had quite forgotten.

"You are right," he exclaimed. Then his brow cleared of its blank surprise and he laughed. "That settles it about the rest," he said.

"The income from that property will amply support me and any poor interests a humble missionary may have."