i.
gunga ram, ya’kub, and isa das were three poor ryots[11] who lived by their daily toil, and earned scarcely more than enough to supply their families with the bare necessaries of life. these men were neighbours and friends; they had heard at the same time the gospel preached by the good pastor ghopal; on the same day they had received baptism from his hand, and professed their faith in christ as the lord. wherever one of these ryots was seen, it was certain that the other two would not be far distant. and yet, though the three were all christians in name, toiled in the same field, and led the same kind of life, he who readeth the heart saw as much difference between them as between the diamond which shines in a rajah’s diadem and the pebble which the coolie tramples under foot.
[29]
one morning gunga ram, ya’kub, and isa das, on their way to the rice-field, passed close to the spot on which their pastor, ghopal, by the aid of the sahib log, had been building a church. money had come from praying people in england, and brick by brick the church had risen, until only the roof was wanting. then there came heavy rains, and the river swelled and rose, and overflowed its banks. the storm beat against the unfinished building, and the labour of months was swept away in a day. the rain ceased, the river flowed again in its usual channel; but where a goodly church had been rising, alas, there were now but ruins!
gunga ram, ya’kub, and isa das stood gazing upon these ruins, sorrowful to see the destruction wrought by the flood.
“the heart of the padre ghopal will be exceeding sad,” said isa das. “it was his joy day by day to see his church rising, and to think of the time when he should gather in it his people, as a shepherd gathers his flock.”
“he will build up the church again, and build it more strongly,” said ya’kub.
“alas! my friend, where shall the money come from?” cried isa das. “i heard padre ghopal say but yesterday, with tears in his eyes, that he fears that he can get no more rupees from england. the[30] collector sahib, who gave thirty gold mohurs, has gone from the station; and manton sahib, who fills his place, has refused to give even a pice.”[12]
“manton sahib is very stingy!” cried ya’kub. “he has a grand bungalow, fine carriages and horses, and feasts like a prince; he could give many gold mohurs and not miss them. why does he not help to build up our church?”
“manton sahib told padre ghopal that the people should build one for themselves,” isa das made reply.
then his two companions shook their heads, and said bitter things against the sahib who cared not to help in such a good work.
“how can we who are so poor build a church?” exclaimed ya’kub. “we live in small huts, and seldom eat anything better than rice and fruit. i have really not enjoyed one good satisfying meal since the marriage of my younger brother, two years ago.” ya’kub sighed at the remembrance of that great feast—the rich dishes, the pastry, and the sweetmeats; for a feast was to ya’kub the greatest of joys, and he knew not when he should taste such another again.
“if i were a rich baboo,” said gunga ram, “i would give a thousand rupees to pastor ghopal for his church.”
[31]
“if i were a great rajah,” cried ya’kub, “i would build a church all by myself, and make it as grand as the taj!”[13]
“i shall never be either baboo or rajah,” said isa das thoughtfully; “but though i am only a poor ryot, i should like to put one brick in that church;” and he looked, as he spoke, at the ruins.
“what is thy meaning?” asked his companions.
“o my brothers,” replied isa das, “did not the pastor ghopal preach yesterday on the words of the lord jesus: it is more blessed to give than to receive (acts xx. 35). when i heard him i said in my heart, ‘is that blessing kept for the rich; shall not the poor give something also?’”
“they cannot give,” cried gunga ram, to whom his pice were dear as the drops of blood in his veins.
but isa das did not appear persuaded of the truth of these words. “do you not remember,” said he, “how, when the lord christ stood in the temple, and saw rich men casting into the treasury of god much gold and much silver, and then a poor widow casting in two mites, he said to his disciples, ‘this poor widow hath cast in more than they all’ (luke xxi. 3). the lord accepted the offering of her who had little to give, but gave from the[32] heart. i should like to put one brick in that church!”
and before isa das left the spot with his two companions, his wish had formed itself into a silent prayer. “o lord, thou hast said it is more blessed to give than to receive; help me to win that blessing. thou dost love the offering of the poor; show me the way to offer something to thee!”
ii.
the three men, gunga ram, ya’kub, and isa das, soon reached their place of labour,—a rice-field which bordered on a great river. on the other side of the broad waters they could see the bungalow to which manton sahib had come but the week before. it was a large well-built bungalow with white pillars, and was partly hidden by the mango-trees and the tall palm-trees which grew in the compound around it.
“see!” cried gunga ram, pointing towards the river; “there is some one on horseback trying to cross the waters.”
“it is a stranger; he knows not the ford,” said isa das.
“if he wish not to be carried away by the stream,” observed ya’kub, “he must turn his horse’s head more to the right.”
[33]
isa das lifted up his voice and shouted, “to the right—to the right!” perhaps the stranger did not hear him; or hearing, paid no heed to the warning of a poor ryot.
“it is manton sahib himself,” exclaimed gunga ram; “i know him by the red beard and long hair.”
“he will be drowned,” said ya’kub. “see! his horse has lost his footing already, and is plunging madly into the midst of the foaming waters. the sahib will be carried away by the current, and drowned!”
“let us hasten to his help!” cried isa das; “we know the ford well, and could find it even on a starless night.”
“and we can swim like ducks,” added ya’kub.
“if we save the sahib, we shall have a great reward!” cried gunga ram, as he eagerly hurried after isa das, who had already plunged into the swollen river.
all the three men battled with the waters; all three hastened to save a drowning man; all three risked their lives to do so. the act was the same, but the motive different. gunga ram thought of praise and reward; isa das thought but of the words of the lord—“inasmuch as ye did it, ye did it unto me.”
[34]
before the three ryots could reach the spot where the horse had lost his footing, the commissioner was almost drowned. the rush of waters had borne him out of his saddle; only one of his feet was yet in the stirrup; the rein had escaped from his hand; he was clinging for life to the mane of the struggling horse, of which only the head could be seen above the torrent. the sahib had scarcely even power to shout for help; but in his great need help was at hand. ya’kub seized the rein of the horse; gunga ram gave his powerful aid; while isa das supported the half-drowned man, and assisted him to recover his seat in the saddle. with violent efforts, and with both difficulty and risk, the three ryots succeeded in bringing both the horse and his gasping rider safe back to the side of the river.
as the horse struggled up the bank, with clotted mane and streaming flanks, manton sahib uttered a few words which were not addressed to the ryots, and which they could not understand. isa das thought, and perhaps thought rightly, that the englishman, in his own language, was thanking god for preservation from death. the sahib shook the drops from his dripping hair; his solah topee was floating far away down the river; he had lost it in the desperate struggle for life. manton patted[35] the neck of his trembling horse; then turning towards the ryots, addressed them in their own tongue,—
“brave men; you have done a good service, and shall not miss a reward. follow me to my own house.”
“as your highness commands,” replied the three ryots at once.
“this is a fortunate day for us,” exclaimed gunga ram, as the three men followed the commissioner towards his handsome bungalow; “we shall be poor ryots no longer; we shall no more have to earn our rice by the sweat of our brows.”
“we will eat something better than rice,” cried the feast-loving ya’kub. “in hopes of good food, i seem already to feel myself growing fat as a baboo!” and he patted his breast.
when the commissioner reached his house, he called aloud for his bearer, and gave command that money should be brought. a bag of silver was quickly placed in the sahib’s hand; and before he dismounted from his horse, manton drew from it three rupees, and gave one to each of the men.
the ryots made low saláms as they took the pieces of silver, and then together they turned from the commissioner’s house. but the worm of discontent gnawed at the heart of gunga ram.
[36]
“does the sahib value his life but at three rupees?” he muttered. “one rupee is not worth the wetting of my waist-cloth!”
ya’kub laughed at the disappointment of his companion. “one rupee will at least buy a right good dinner!” said he. “no work to-day for me. i will hasten off to the bazaar, and have once more such a feast as that of which i partook when my younger brother was married.”
“oh, thou man without wisdom!” cried gunga ram, as he tied up his piece of silver in the end of his waist-cloth; “thou wilt not surely spend all thy rupee on one meal?”
but ya’kub was already beyond hearing of the voice of his friend. it was as if the savoury fragrance of the coming feast were drawing ya’kub on from afar. he hastened his steps, even as the thirsty camel doth in the desert when he smelleth water, and rusheth towards the well.
“thou wilt not spend thy money thus?” asked gunga ram of isa das.
isa das smiled as he made reply: “no; i will not thus spend my rupee upon feasting;” and he thought, but he spake not his thought aloud,—“the lord hath already heard and answered my prayer. i, even i, a poor ryot, will put one brick in that church.”
[37]
iii.
on the evening of that same day, padre ghopal and the english padre, logan by name, walked together to look upon the ruins of the native church that had been destroyed by the flood. ghopal, with tears in his eyes, as he stood by the ruins, besought the padre sahib to help him in this great trouble, as he had often helped him before.
“i am sorry, very sorry, for the destruction of your church,” said logan sahib kindly but gravely; “but i really cannot so soon again ask for subscriptions from england, and my own purse is now empty. there was a collection made for you but last year in my former parish, near london, and some of the very poorest of the school children gave to it their pence and their halfpence, instead of spending the money on sweetmeats. i heard of a blind woman who, day by day, can scarcely earn her scanty living by knitting, who yet found that she could spare something to help the lord’s work in a distant land. if she cared for the building of a church into which she never will enter, and for the conversion to god of people whom she never will see, are the members of your flock content to remain idle? do they think it well to sit with folded hands like children, and expect to be fed by others?[38] it is time that native christians should learn the proverb, ‘god helps those that help themselves.’”
padre ghopal shook his head and sighed deeply. “i have spoken to the people on this subject again and again,” he replied, “but they listen as those who hear not. they are as trees that bear leaves of profession, but the fruit of good works is not seen on the boughs. besides, my people are poor,” added the native pastor.
“was it not said of the philippians, how their deep poverty abounded unto the riches of their liberality, for that to their power, yea, and beyond their power, they were willing of themselves?” (2 cor. viii. 2) said padre logan. “not till we see more of this spirit of liberality and self-sacrifice in the indian church, will god’s full blessing rest upon it.”
“i know it, i know it,” sighed padre ghopal.
“and not all your people are poor,” continued the english pastor. “you have amongst them baboos in government employ, who receive good salaries every month. can you not persuade them to give at least one-tenth of their means to the giver of all, even as every jew did in the days of old? shall christians do less for their religion than did the jews?”
“the baboos want good houses, and their wives[39] want fine jewels,” said padre ghopal. “if we wait to rebuild this church till the people bring free-will offerings, like jews at jerusalem or christians at philippi, we shall wait till yon river runs dry.”
even as padre ghopal spoke, a poor ryot drew nigh, and respectfully made his salám. “may i speak with the padre?” said he.
“he has, of course, some favour to ask,” observed padre logan. “these people are always crying, ‘give—give!’”
isa das, for it was he, heard the words of the englishman, and they were bitter to the soul of the ryot; but without looking towards him the poor man turned to his own pastor and silently held out his hand, in which there was one bright silver rupee.
“what is thy meaning? what wouldst thou have me do with this rupee?” asked padre ghopal in surprise as he took the money.
isa das pointed with his finger to the ruins and said, “i should like to put one brick into that church.”
“this is strange—very strange!” exclaimed padre logan. “i never heard of anything like it in this country before. how can such a man, lean in body, and wearing but one garment, have a[40] whole rupee to spare?” and he glanced with suspicion at isa das, for he thought to himself,—“that man must have stolen the piece of silver.”
“let not my lord have hard thoughts of his servant,” said isa das, who understood the look. “your servant to-day helped gunga ram and ya’kub to save the life of manton sahib when he had missed the ford, and was nearly drowned in the river. manton sahib for that service gave to each of us a rupee.”
“and you devote yours to the building of your church!” exclaimed padre logan.
“i give it to the lord, who loved and gave himself for me,” was isa das’s reply, as with a cheerful, happy heart he turned from the place.
padre logan watched the poor man as he departed, then suddenly shook ghopal by the hand. “god forgive me for my harsh judgment!” he cried; “and god be praised that there are men in india like this poor ryot!”
a ray of pleasure and hope brightened the face of padre ghopal. “i will once more visit the baboos,” he said, “and see if the example of this poor man will not move them to give of their abundance, even as he hath given of his poverty. but first let us together beseech the lord to open the hearts of the people.”
[41]
iv.
was isa das a poorer man on account of what he had given to god? no one would have thought so, who could have seen with what a light step and happy face he returned to his home that evening. the rich flower of joy grows on the prickly shrub of self-denial; the flower blooms even in this world, but the fruit will be gathered in the next. as isa das passed along the dusty road which led to his hut, everything on which he looked seemed to add to his joy. there was the golden light of sunset; isa das beheld it, and said to himself, “light is the gift of god.” he passed where the thirsty cattle were drinking at the river, and said to himself, “water is the gift of god.” isa das remembered his own blessings, and said to himself,—“eyes to see, and ears to hear, and hands to work, and feet to walk,—these also are gifts of god. the great father in heaven loves to give. he gave his only-begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life (john iii. 16). god hath called us to be his children; and shall not the children be even as the father, and also delight in giving? yea, to give freely and to give joyfully,—this is the right of the children of god.”
when isa das came in sight of his humble home,[42] his little boy, his well-beloved, ran forth to meet him. the child had a flower in his hand,—a small flower which he had plucked to give to his father. isa das caught up the child and kissed him, and took the small flower from the little hand with a smile of acceptance, as if it had been the koh-i-noor worn by the queen. “my loving child,—he also is a gift from god,” thought the ryot.
when isa das entered his humble home, he found that his wife had carefully prepared the evening meal. it was but a very simple meal, but isa das blessed god before he ate it as thankfully as if he had been sitting down to a feast. then he told his wife of all that had happened; for isa das was the christian husband of a christian woman, and they shared all each other’s sorrows and joys, and nothing that the one did was ever hidden from the other. the love which isa das and his lakhdili felt for each other was also the gift of god.
when the wife heard of the gift of the rupee, her eyes sparkled with pleasure, for she thought,—“my husband will perhaps buy a new chaddar for me, or bangles to put on the arms of our dear little boy;” but when isa das told lakhdili that his money had gone to be, as it were, a brick in the church, she was too good a wife and too good a woman to say aught against what her husband had done.
[43]
“oh, husband! thou hast done a good work,” said lakhdili; “and good works are the ladder by which holy men, as thou art, climb to heaven.”
“oh, woman!” cried isa das with earnestness, “thinkest thou that by good works we poor sinners can climb to heaven? as well might i gather a heap of date-stones together, and think by mounting on them to reach the noonday sun! heaven is christ’s free gift; he bought it for us with his own blood. but we love him who gave us the gift,—we love him as my little child loves me,—and our offerings are even as this flower which my darling gathered to place in the hand of his father.”
v.
scarcely had isa das finished his meal, when some one approached him. the light of sunset had faded away, and isa das could not see the face of him who had come, but when he spoke isa das knew well the voice of gunga ram.
“dost thou know what hath befallen our companion ya’kub?” were the first words of gunga ram as he seated himself on the ground near isa das.
“i have not seen ya’kub since the morning,” was isa das’s reply, “when from manton sahib we each received a rupee.”
[44]
“ah, poor ya’kub!” cried gunga ram, but more in mirth than in sorrow. “did i not warn him and say to him, ‘thou man without wisdom, spend not all thy money upon one meal!’ his bright rupee has been to him even as a melon under which a centipede lies hidden, that bites the hand of him who gathers the fruit.”
“what is thy meaning?” asked isa das.
“ya’kub hurried off to the bazaar,” gunga ram made answer; “and there, to the last pie, he spent his money on buying dainties, the fat and the sweet. and he bought bang also, and he ate to the full, and he drank to the full, till his eyes would not have distinguished the saddle of a horse from the hump of a bullock!”
“alas, that ya’kub should thus have cast disgrace on the christian name!” exclaimed isa das with sorrow.
but gunga ram neither showed nor felt any regret at the fall of his weaker brother; it was to him rather a cause of mirth.
“ya’kub became in his drunkenness as one who is mad,” thus gunga ram went on with his story. “ya’kub ran against the bearers of a palki,—rushing fiercely against them as the wild boar rushes through the jungle,—and, behold! in the palki was the manton sahib himself!” gunga ram laughed[45] till his sides shook as he added, “so poor ya’kub, of course, was sent to jail. this was the end of his feast! this was the great good which came to him from the rupee given by the sahib!”
then isa das could not help thinking of the words of the wise solomon written in the holy book,—“the blessing of the lord it maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with it” (prov. x. 22). poor ya’kub had sought no blessing; he had cared but to gratify the lusts of the flesh; and behold sorrow and disgrace had come where he had looked for nothing but joy.
“thou wilt not thus spend thy rupee, my friend?” he said unto gunga ram.
“spend it, indeed! why should i spend it at all?” was gunga ram’s reply. “no; i do not lightly part with my money,—i gather it up and store it. a pice is but a little coin, but many pice make a rupee, and many rupees a gold mohur; and as the proverb saith truly,—‘by patience the mulberry-leaf becomes satin.’” gunga ram lowered his voice and glanced round him suspiciously as he went on,—“why should i hide a secret from thee which i have already confided to ya’kub? the sahib’s coin lies not alone in my bag,—there are now thrice three, which i have saved by care and self-denial; and if things go well with me to the end of the[46] year, i shall have as many rupees saved as i have fingers on these two hands;” and gunga ram stretched out his hands as he spoke.
“what avails our having money, if we never spend it?” asked isa das. “hast thou never heard the words of the lord: ‘lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal’?” (matt. vi. 19, 20).
gunga ram gave a sign of impatience. “preach not to me, but look to thyself!” he exclaimed. “i wot thou hast not yet parted thyself with the sahib’s rupee.”
“i have parted with it,” replied isa das with a smile.
“hast thou then been to the bazaar and bought a ring, or a bracelet, or a new kamarband?” asked gunga ram.
isa das shook his head.
“or a goat to give milk to thy child?”
again isa das shook his head as he made reply,—“i have bought nothing, o my friend!”
“then thou hast lost thy rupee?” cried gunga ram.
[47]
“i have not lost it,” said isa das with cheerfulness.
“thou hast not kept, nor spent, nor lost it; then hast thou been so mad as to give it away to some poor neighbour?” asked gunga ram, who would not so much as have given away an anna to his own brother.
“i have given it to one who is rich,” replied isa das; and he added to himself,—“to one who for our sakes was yet content to be poor.”
“if thou hast given thy good rupee to one who is rich already, thou hast indeed acted the part of a fool!—unless, indeed, he be likely to repay thee thy money with interest,” said gunga ram.
“a hundredfold—a thousandfold,” thought isa das, as he lifted up his eyes towards heaven. “it is there that i would lay up my treasure.”
vi.
on the following evening there was a great dinner at the bungalow of manton sahib. all the english gentlemen of the station were invited, and amongst them came padre logan.
there was much talk at the dinner-table on various matters,—the last news from europe, the state of the crops, the movements of the governor-general, and the chance of a war in burmah. at[48] last padre logan observed to manton sahib, to whom he sat opposite, “i hear that yesterday you had a narrow escape from drowning.”
“yes,” replied manton sahib; “i missed the ford when attempting to cross the river, lost my seat in the saddle, and never in all my life felt myself nearer to death than i did when the waters came rushing around me, for i am unable to swim. i believe that i should not have been sitting at this table to-day, had not three ryots, capital swimmers, come to my rescue.”
“and you gave each of them a rupee,” observed padre logan.
“unlucky rupees they were,” cried the commissioner, shrugging his shoulders.
“how so?” inquired padre logan, whilst the rest of the company at table became silent in order to listen.
“why, before the day was over, one of the fellows got drunk on his rupee,” replied manton sahib. “he actually attacked my bearers with a stick when i was going home in my palki in the evening, and was so noisy and troublesome that i was obliged to send him to prison.”
“but another of the ryots made a very different use of his rupee,” observed padre logan.
“that is to say, he made no use of it at all,”[49] replied the commissioner. “but the very circumstance of his having the money brought the poor fellow to grief.”
“how so?” asked colonel miller, an officer who sat at the end of the table.
“a rumour had been abroad,” thus manton sahib made reply, “that week after week, and month after month, this ryot, whose name is gunga ram, has been saving money, pie by pie. but no one was sure of the matter, for the man’s earnings were so small that it was hard to believe that he should be able to scrape any money together. but it appears that ya’kub, in his drunkenness, had made it known throughout the bazaar that gunga ram, like himself, had received a present from me; and perhaps rumour had turned the one rupee into ten.”
“that is likely enough,” said padre logan.
“be that as it may, poor gunga ram had to pay dearly for his love of money,” said manton sahib. “about midnight some thieves entered his hut, and searched it, but at first could find nothing in it. determined to reach the supposed hoard, the villains seized poor gunga ram, and cruelly tortured him to make him confess where he had buried his money. in his agony the poor wretch told them the place. the cries of gunga ram reached the ears of some[50] of the police, who came to his aid; but before they entered the hut the thieves had made off with the money, and the police found only the miserable gunga ram stretched on the ground bleeding and groaning. he was carried off to the hospital at once. thus you see that i had some cause to say that mine were unlucky rupees.”
“you have told us of the fate of two of the receivers of your gift,” observed the english padre; “let me now tell you something of the third ryot, and of the use which he made of his rupee, which may perhaps be to you yet more surprising.”
“one of the fellows is lodged in an hospital, another in a jail,” said colonel miller, laughing; “i suppose that the story of the third will be that he bought a rope with his rupee, and hanged himself in the next mango-grove.”
most of the rest of the company laughed; but manton sahib turned attentively to listen to what padre logan was going to say. “what did the third man do with his money?” he inquired.
“he gave it to padre ghopal, to help to rebuild the little native church that was thrown down by the flood,” was the padre’s reply.
all the company looked surprised. no one had been surprised to hear of a man getting drunk on bang, or of another being tortured and robbed; but[51] they regarded the poor ryot’s free-will offering to god as a very strange thing indeed.
“i can scarcely believe it,” said colonel miller; and his face expressed doubt yet more than did his words.
“i was myself present when isa das gave his rupee into the hand of ghopal,” said the english padre.
“then i can only say that this ryot gives me a higher opinion of the natives of india than i ever had before,” observed colonel miller.
“you see, sir,” said logan, addressing himself to manton sahib, “that not all of the rupees went to the thieves or to the seller of bang.”
manton sahib was silent for some moments, reflecting deeply. at the time of his preservation from drowning he had thanked god for saving him from death, but never till he heard of the gift of the poor ryot had he thought of bringing a thank-offering, an acknowledgment of the mercy shown to him by god. the poor man’s piety kindled a feeling of piety in the breast of the wealthy sahib, even as one torch is kindled by another.
“are the natives, then, so anxious to have their church built?” the commissioner asked of the clergyman.
“many wish it to be built,” was padre logan’s[52] reply; “but isa das is the only one of whom i have yet heard as helping the cause by a gift.”
“then let his example be followed,” cried manton sahib; “and my help shall not be wanting. tell ghopal, that whatever sum of money he may succeed in gathering from his native flock for the building of the church before sunday next, shall be doubled by me.”
“ghopal will not gather much, i suspect,” observed colonel miller to manton sahib; “your purse will not be greatly lightened.”
“whether the sum be small or great, i will keep to my promise,” said the commissioner; “and the heavier the drain on my purse, the better shall i be pleased.”
vii.
before the rising of the sun on the following morning, padre logan was on his way to the house of ghopal, to carry to him the news of the commissioner’s promise. before the sun had set on that day, padre ghopal had visited the dwelling of every native christian in the place, and in every house had told of the poor ryot’s offering, and of the rich commissioner’s offer. never had such interest and excitement been shown amongst the christians before. the punishment of ya’kub, the erring one,[53] and the robbery of the money of the unfortunate gunga ram, were known to all; and the story of the three rupees from the lips of padre ghopal fell with more effect upon the ears of the hearers than ten sermons might have done. “god is great!” they exclaimed. “happy is he upon whom rests the blessing of the most high. without that blessing, even money may bring but sorrow and shame.”
padre ghopal carried with him a bag to receive the contributions of the people. when he started in the morning, there was but one rupee in the bag—that one was the offering of isa das; but before ghopal returned to his home the bag had become a heavy burden, full of pice, annas, and rupees. those who had never given before now gave with thankfulness and joy.
“i was going to spend much on the marriage festivities of my daughter,” said one; “i will spend less on feasting and show, that i may have something to spare for the work of god. may the lord jesus grant his favour to my child; that is far better than dance or feasting could be.”
“i had intended to buy a new horse,” said a baboo; “but i will make my old pony carry me yet another year. i will ride him with pleasure; and mounted upon him, will go from day to day to[54] see the house of god rising from its ruins, for i shall have put many bricks in that church.”
margam, the mother of padre ghopal, had no money to give; but, with a happy smile, she drew from her arm a silver bangle, and dropped it into the bag of her son. “let the silver be changed into bricks for the house of the lord,” said the pious woman.
before the appointed sunday arrived, padre logan and ghopal together, with thankful surprise, counted out the money which had been poured by rich and poor into the treasury of the lord. the coppers and the silver together, and cowries also, that were found in the bag, amounted to a goodly sum; and when the last rupee had been counted, padre ghopal lifted up his eyes to heaven, and exclaimed, “god be praised! he hath answered our prayers even beyond our hopes. there is lying before me in these heaps half of the money required to build up our church!”
“and manton sahib will double the amount,” said the joyful padre logan. “he is a man who will never flinch back from keeping his promise.”
padre logan was right; nor had the commissioner the slightest wish to flinch back from keeping his promise. manton sahib rejoiced to help those who were helping themselves. never had the englishman written anything with more pleasure than[55] when he dipped his pen and made out a cheque on the bank of bengal for the remainder of the sum required to complete the building of the church.
fast went on the work of building; the church seemed to grow rapidly, as rice when the water rises around it. every one in the christian village rejoiced to see its progress, and many who could give no money gave a helping hand to the work.
“this is our own church,” the people would say; “we need no more money from england. we ourselves, with the commissioner sahib’s help, have built our house of prayer, and we will support our minister also. it is a good thing to offer freely and joyfully to the lord. ‘god loveth a cheerful giver’” (2 cor. ix. 7).
before the rainy season arrived the little church was built and roofed in; and there was a glad gathering of all the people to celebrate the opening of the holy house with prayer and songs of praise. gunga ram and ya’kub were there; the one had left his hospital, the other had been dismissed from jail. gunga ram had a pale cheek, and a deep scar left by a wound; and poor ya’kub could scarcely lift his eyes from the ground, for shame covered his face. these two poor ryots joined in the prayer, but their voices were not heard in the songs of joy.
after the meeting was over, gunga ram and[56] ya’kub joined isa das, who was standing a little apart, his hands clasped, his face bright with happiness, as he looked at the beautiful building standing where only ruins had been.
“ah, my brother!” cried gunga ram, “this is indeed a day of rejoicing for thee. behold god hath heard thy prayer, and hath greatly prospered thy work.”
gunga ram spoke from the heart, for during the time of his sore sickness and pain god’s holy spirit had spoken to his soul. gunga ram had resolved that out of his little earnings a tenth part should always henceforth be devoted to holy uses, the support of his pastor, and the relief of the poor. gunga ram would seek to lay up for himself treasure in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, nor thieves break through and steal.
“i am as joyous as if i were sultan of the world,” said isa das, “when i look on that house, in which i hope that the gospel will be preached from generation to generation.”
“and thou thyself hath built that church,” said gunga ram.
“i build a church!—i, who am but a poor ryot!” exclaimed isa das in surprise. “thou dost not well, o gunga ram, to speak words of mockery to thy friend.”
“they are not words of mockery, but words of[57] truth,” replied gunga ram. “without thy prayers and thy offering, that church would not have been standing there this day. it is thou who didst build that church.”
“i laid but one brick,” said isa das.
“but as from the seed springs the tree, so from that one brick laid in faith and prayer that goodly building hath risen,” said gunga ram. “o my brother, i have learned a great lesson whilst lying wounded and in sore trouble,—a lesson which is worth more to me than the nine rupees which the robbers carried away. our money is as seed-corn which the lord, the great land-owner, commits to his servants that they may sow and reap a hundredfold. ya’kub was as one who grinds the seed-corn and eats it, and lo, his field is brown and bare when the green blade is springing up in the fields of others around him! i was as one who hides his seed-corn till the time for sowing is past, and that which might have brought forth good fruit becomes corrupted and mouldy. but thou, o isa das, thou hast been as one who does the bidding of his lord, and in the day of harvest greatly rejoices. for is it not written in the word of truth, he that soweth to his flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the spirit, shall of the spirit reap life everlasting?” (gal. vi. 8.)
