The Faithful Servant

Dear Reader: You are away from home. Perhaps it is not long since you left it, and still your fondest thoughts are there. When the house is quiet; when you can follow every footfall in the street, till it dies away round the corner; when the fire burns low, and every tick of the clock comes loud and earnest; or when you chance to awaken up in the lonely night, your mind is sure to wander off to that loved dwelling. Where is it? Is it yon white house, with the mountain behind it, and the misty crags where the eagle screams, and the torrent thunders down, in the most ancient melody of old and tuneful Wales? Or is it far, far away, in the highlands? Is it thatched with broom and brackens, and does a peat-stack stand at the gable? and out among the crows and the peevveets, does Donald wrap round him his plaid, and herd the dun cattle, till the corn is cut and the potato-shaws are withered? Or is it an English cottage? With its little lozenge-panes does the casement unclose on hinges? and, when opened, does a sweet air come in from roses, and honeysuckle, and miirnionette? Is it on the ed-e of the common, where sober geese and gentle donkeys browse together? and near the shaded pond, where the wagoner stops his team, and cools their fetlocks in the dusty summer? Or is it down the bushy lane, where, in harvest, blackberries and filberts ripen, and long threads of gossamer saunter about in the golden air? Or near the village church? so near, that when you lay in bed wiih the fever, you could hear the choir and the organ? Are there almshouses all in a row — six for old men, and six for old women? And when they marched to church on sabbath mornings, how many did you count the girls in blue frocks and white mittens? how many the boys in round caps tufted with orange tops? Oh, yes! it was a sweet place, where you were born and bred; and if your father and mother are still alive, I do not wonder that your heart is often there.

Besides, you say that you are not happy here. The house is grand, but it is strange. Nobody cares for you. No one cheers you with a kind look or a pleasant word; and if your loneliness should ever make you dull, your fellow-servant jeers you. And when you think of that sorrowful afternoon when you packed up your things, and your brother carried your box, and your father convoyed you as far as the milestone; and when you feel again the clasp of that dear old hand, and seem to hear the faltering voice, “God Almighty bless you!” your heart is like to break, and you almost wish that there were no servants and no mistresses, and no need for poor girls leaving home to seek a place with strangers.

But dry that tear. I feel for you, so young and solitary, and I would fain say something which might comfort you. Read this letter carefully, and read it to the end.

Eighteen hundred years ago, the Son of God came down from heaven, and visited our world; and that visit of his is by far the most important event in our world’s surprising story. With all the love of God, he came in all the gentleness and tenderness of man; and his errand was as kind as his nature. He came to save sinners. To purchase their pardon, he shed his blood on the cross of Calvary; and he is now gone back to heaven, a Prince and a Saviour, delighting to bestow repentance and the remission of sins. And he sends through the world his Bible and his ministers, beseeching men to take the benefit of his most precious blood, and through these ministers, and that Bible, saying, “Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”*

Jesus went back to heaven; but he left

All this is explained more fully in the first three numbers of “The Happy Home.”

behind him his apostles. These good men went everywhere preaching the gospel; and, as the Holy Spirit was with them, it was wonderful with what speed they came. When they told the love of God in sending his dear Son, and the Saviour’s love in dying, something fixed the people’s ear, and the story moved their minds — fierce spirits melted, and flinty hearts flowed down; and from among the roughest of mankind the Redeemer drew disciples after him. And whether it was the soldier’s barrack, or the noble’s country-seat — whether it was the city-mansion, or the tanner’s hut beside the shore — wherever the gospel entered, it brought holiness, and peace, and joy. But there was no class of persons to whom it was more welcome than to the servants of that time. Many of them were actual slaves. They had been torn away from their homes in the German forest or on the hills of Britain, and were now in bondage to the haughty Roman. And those of them who worked for wages were often harshly treated and poorly paid. But God is no respector of persons, and the gospel was as free to Onesimus as to his rich master, Philemon, and brought the same blessings to Rhoda, the housemaid, as to Mary, her mistress. The kindness of that gospel won the heart of many a servant. They threw away their idols — they gave up their sinful habits, and became the affectionate followers of that exalted Saviour who was once himself “in the form of a servant.” And as great numbers were admitted to the early church, they became a special charge to the church’s ministers. Timothy and Titus preached so plainly, that the servants understood them; and when Paul and Peter wrote letters to their flocks, they usually put in a message to the servants. Their labor was not lost. Many of these converts became bright Christians. By their modesty, and diligence, and faithfulness, they commended the cause of Christ; and when times of persecution came, rather than deny their Lord they were ready to go to prison and to death, and in the early annals of your class have left their martyrnames.

The Lord Jesus is gone back to heaven; but he desires that you too would become his disciple. He desires that you would come to him to receive pardon for your sins, and to get a new and right nature. He desires that you would enter his household and become his servant for ever. And he offers to become to you the same gracious Saviour and the same Almighty Friend as he has been to the thousands of happy servants before you.

Believe the blessed Saviour, and your worst sorrows will be ended. Your earthly lot may be hard. Your work may be irksome, your wages small, your employer severe. Never mind; you have promotion in prospect. The poor people who come begging to the door often tell you, “We have seen better days;” but the Christian is one whose best days are “not seen as yet.” Eye hath not seen what God has prepared for his people; and amid all your toils and privations will it not cheer you to think, “My better days are coming?”

And would it not be delightful to have always a good employer V Some have masters and mistresses whom there is no pleasure in serving. They are stiff and cold, and they feel no interest in you. Or they are coarse and bitter; they give their orders with a threat, and reward you with a frown. Or they are mean and suspicious; accusing you when innocent, and condemning you unheard. And you grudge to waste your strength on thankless toil. It hurts you to be treated like a felon or a foe; and you know not which is hardest — to be blamed when you have done no wrong, or to win no notice and no thanks when you have done your very best. But you must learn to look higher. Enter the service of the Lord Jesus, and whatsoever you do you will then ‘♦ do heartily, as unto the Lord, and not unto men.” Without leaving your present place you will then have a Master wise, and kind, and worthy of your utmost efforts; and for his sake you will be “subject, not only to the good and gentle, but also to the froward.” And so long as they ask you to do nothing sinful, whatever your earthly superiors enjoin, you will do it thoroughly and cheerfully, for the sake of your Master in heaven. As you pursue your lonely task, and ply your weary toil, you will hear his own voice saying, “Occupy till I come;” and the thought that he has put you there will convert the meanest station into a post of honor. Even trials you will hail as that discipline which his wisdom prescribes; and when nothing else could keep up your courage, it will be enough to think of the day when — forgiving all their faults, and only remembering their labors of love — he will say to every meek and persevering disciple, “Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of thy Lord.”

Besides, if you become the servant of the Lord Jesus, you will have an Almighty

Friend to whom to go in all your fears and sorrows. One of your trials is your loneliness. You have no affectionate counsellor now like what you had at home; and you would be thankful for some one who would take a kind interest in your welfare — who would listen to your griefs — and who would help you to do what is right, and shun what is wrong. For that purpose, there is no friend like the Saviour; none so wise, so powerful, so holy; and, what makes him the very one you need, he is a Friend constantly at hand. You do not see him, but he is ever present, and will hear you if you pray. Tell him of your sins and temptations, and he will help you to overcome them. Tell him of your troubles, and he will comfort you. Tell him of your difficulties, and perhaps, while you are yet speaking, they will vanish and disappear. And though you may not have much opportunity for prayer, the Lord is very pitiful; and just as he heard Nehemiah with the king’s wine-cup in his hand, and answered the prayer which Ehezer offered as he knelt beside his master’s camel, so, if you are really earnest, the Lord will hear the petition which you breathe to him at any time and in any place. I lately read of a servant, in Scotland, who could get no retirement in the house, but she used to pray silently as she went to the well for water; “and often,” she said, “as I stood beside the well, the same condescending Redeemer who manifested himself to the poor woman at Jacob’s well, revealed himself to me.” And do you take for the guide of your youth that Saviour, as merciful as he is almighty, and then you can never be friendless or forlorn. To all your cares and sorrows his ear will be ever open; and, while no danger nor distress can escape his watchful eye, through every stage of life and in every scene of action, he will graciously uphold you by the Holy Spirit’s comfort and control.

Dear reader, will you not, from this time onward, love and serve this Saviour? Will you not go to him, and beg that he would receive a poor, unworthy sinner, who has heard of his kindness, and who hopes in his mercy? Will you not intrust to him the keeping of your soul, and the care of all your interests? And as he most willingly receives you, so will not you humbly and diligently follow him? And are you not saying already, “Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do? — Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth?”

Yes, and to you the Lord hath spoken. He who gave the Bible, had a great care for servants; and to copy all the passages especially suited to you would fill this paper. I hope you will search them out, and mark them when you find them, and read them often over. In the meanwhile, as a specimen, here are three. Listen to the voice of Jesus, and let the holy accents sink into your inmost soul: —

“Servants, obey in all things your masters according to the flesh; not with eye-service, as men-pleasers; but in singleness of heart, fearing God: and whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ. But he that doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong which he hath done: and there is no respect of persons.”*

Exhort servants to be obedient unto their own masters, and to please them well in all things; not answering again: not purloining, but showing all good fidelity; that they may adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things. For the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world; looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ; who gave himself for us, that he might * Colossians, iii. 22-25.

redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works.”*

“Servants, be subject to your masters with all fear; not only to the good and gentle, but also to the froward. For this is thankworthy, if a man for conscience toward God endure grief, suffering wrongfully. For what glory is it, if, when ye be buffeted for your faults, ye shall take it patiently? but if, when ye do well, and suffer for it, ye take it patiently, this is acceptable with God. For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps: who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth: who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered, he threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously: who his ownself bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteous- Titus, ii. 9-14.

ness: by whose stripes ye were healed. For ye were as sheep going astray; but are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls.”*

From these passages, you see that your first duty is obedience. Of course, you must not tell lies, nor do anything wicked, to please your employer; but so long as you remain in his service, and so long as his commands do not contradict the commands of God, you must do whatever he bids you. And do it cheerfully: even if you would rather be doing something else, still “do it heartily; do it as to the Lord, and not unto men.” The beauty of obedience is its frankness. There was a youth to whom his father said, “Go work in my vineyard to-day:” but he answered, crossly, “I will not.” It was not that he was particularly lazy, nor that he had no love to his father; for, on thinking better about it, he laid off his coat and took up his tools, and when his father stepped into the vine- * 1 Peter ii. 18-25.

yard by-and-by, the lad was at work like a hero. But it was a great pity, that churlish answer; it left a pang in his parent’s heart, and it was not till he had made it up with his father, that he felt quite right in his own. And if you would do your work with comfort, do it cheerfully, and do it instantly. Never “answer again;” and let it never be seen, by your sour or lowering countenance, that you are vexed at any order. The way to make it easy is to take it heartily; and the way to make masters and mistresses kind and considerate, is for servants to be cordial at their work, and cheerful in their compliance. But a very foolish plan is first to sulk, and then to obey: it loses time, it loses credit, and it loses good situations.

We can scarcely lay too much stress upon temper; for few tempers are naturally good, and yours is exposed to many trials. Sometimes you are called away in the midst of your work, and the labor of an hour is lost. Or you are ordered to attend to some matter which does not belong to your department; or fellow-servants play tricks on you, and, instead of helping you, increase your trouble; or you are obliged to sit up late and rise early, and, out of sorts and out of spirits, you grow morose and miserable. And it must be confessed that this is trying to flesh and blood; but, just on account of these trials, you are the more bound to pray for a meek and quiet spirit. To its possessor it is not only an “ornament,”* but an unspeakable comfort. Even where no sharp answer is given, people do not like to hear doors slamming, and porcelain smashing, and fire-irons rattling, and other signs of the tempest down stairs; but be they “froward” themselves, or be they good and gende, they like to see their attendants calm and courteous. They like that their door should be opened to their friends, by one who wears a welcome in her smiling face, and they feel it a personal compliment when every office is per-

* 1 Peter iii. 4.

formed with mild alacrity and evident good will. Even though they may not like your piety, they will prize your politeness, and by your civil and respectful demeanor, you will adorn the religion you profess. And you will smooth your daily path, and perform life’s journey more pleasantly. You have looked at a country cart; and when there was need of haste, it was a clumsy sight to see it lurching and hobbling along the road, and a harsh tune to listen to its screeching axle and jangling gear, till some projecting stone capsized it, and it spread from ditch to dike, a wreck of splintered deals and broken spars. And along the same road you have seen the chariot speeding, and as on liquid axle and jaunty springs it skimmed the track, and courlesied over the clods and the stones, its flight was silent and steady, as if wings opened and shut from every wheel. So is it painful to see a fitful temper jolting and jarring along its rugged course, provoked at every hinderance, announcing its progress by perpetual discord, and finally upset by some little interruption, which a more elastic spirit would have lightly glided over. And a happy thing it is to see that wretched temper changed, and as it revolves through daily duties, vaulting over annoyances and stumbling-blocks, and holding on its way with neither dust nor din. Ruth Clark, whose story you would do well to read, once had a violent temper; but after the grace of God had reached her, she began to watch and pray against this proud spirit, and so entirely was it subdued, tht “persons living constantly with her would never have suspected that she had formerly been its slave.” And, however unruly your spirit at present is, if you strive constantly against it, and cry for help to the Lamb of God, he will give you the victory, and bless you with a spirit like his own — “gentle, meek, and mild.”

Whatever be the place you hold, you can not discharge its duties without good sense, as well as good health and good principle; but if already blessed with these mercies, there is nothing to hinder you from becoming a first-rate servant; and, whatever may be his calling in life, every Christian should be first-rate in his own department. In every calling, however, it needs pains and perseverance to reach perfection. It was by long practice, and after many lessons, that Sir Thomas Lawrence became a first-rate painter; and it was by great humility, and by taking hints from every one, that John Dalton became a first-rate chemist; and it is by like means that you are to become a first rate servant. Be humble, and then you will be thankful for every hint. You will observe how older and more accomplished servants do their work, and you will try and try again, till you can do it as well as they. And when your mistress or a fiiend is kind enough to explain any process, you will carefully attend, and not need to be told it again. And thus, step by step, you will get on, till you become so neat and orderly, that, in all your little realm of rooms and cupboards, everything will find its proper place, and wear its tidiest look; so accurate and punctual, that you will forget no messages, and will have all things ready at the minute; so dexterous and expert, that it will seem as if there were a charm in your finger-points, and as if every article you touched understood your meaning; so calm and self-possessed, that confusion will clear up, and disorder will arrange itself when you come in; so thoughtful and considerate, that you will find out employment for yourself, and attend to matters which, but for you, would be omitted: and when you have reached this degree of skill and experience, it will be no flattery to call you a first-rate servant.*

* Those who are anxious to improve will find manyuseful hints in “the Servants’ Magazine” — a penny periodical published monthly by the “Female Aid Society.” This society has done much good; and it may be useful to mention, here, that it maintains a “Servants’ Home and Registry” at No. 5 Millman street, near Bedford row, where respectable female servants are

Try to do good in the place of your sojourn. When Mr. Fletcher, of Madeley, was tutor in a Shropshire family, he had some respect for religion, but not enough to make iii in religious. One sabbath evening, a pious servant came into his study to make up the fire, and seeing him writing music, she said, with deep concern, “Oh, sir! I am sorry to see you so employed on the Lord’s day.” And though very angry at the moment, after she went out, he put away the music, and never copied any more on the sabbath. I am not sure, however, that reproof is the best way of doing good to superiors. A word modestly spoken, and by a person of tried consistency,

lodged, and assisted in finding situations, at a very moderate charge.

In the same neighborhood — that is, at No. 22 New Ormond street — is a school for training servants, maintained by the Hon. Mrs. Kinnaird and her friends, A hundred girls are at present attending it, who, but for its advantages, would never have been fit for respectable service. We mention it here, partly to record the delight we have experienced in visiting it, and partly in the hope that it may suggest to some benevolent reader the eBtabiishraent of similar institutions elsewhere.

may sometimes prove a word in season, but it is more likely to be resented as rudeness, and you may only irritate those whom you meant to reform. Far more effectual is the silent eloquence of a lowly, cheerful, and obliging piety; and if some have been repelled from the gospel by the preaching tone and arrogant air of servants who professed it, others have been won by the gainly demeanor of servants who adorned it. But try to do good to your fellow-servants. If you are enabled to live soberly, righteously, and godly; if they see you correct, and truthful, and devout, but if at the same time you are kind and affable, you will gain great influence over them; and by lending them books, or persuading them to come with you to the house of God, you may confer a lasting blessing on their souls. And if you have the charge of children, teach them texts and hymns, and speak to them affectionately about the Saviour, and tell them Bible stories, and warn them with solemn tenderness against

2G0 THE HAPPY HOME.

lying, and pride, and quarrelling, and selfishness, and the other sins of childhood.

A young girl once went to a thoughtless family in the north of Ireland. She loved her Bible, but the young ladies on whom she waited lauo-hed at her reli”:ion. She tried all she could to be attentive and useful to them; and to please her they sometimes let her read aloud a chapter when they had gone to bed. But by-and-by a dangerous sickness seized her. It was a fever, and her young friends were not allowed to see her, but they heard how happy she was amidst all her sufferings. And after she had gone to Jesus, the two oldest remembered what she used to say while yet with them, and began to read the Bible for themselves, till they found peace in the same Saviour, and till at last religion spread through this once careless family. Happy maid! when she meets on high the endeared objects of her prayers, and this inhoped result of her gentle piety.

Will you permit me to add that ^ew classes in modern society are so rich as domestic servants? Yon have no rent, no rates to pay; you need buy neither coals nor candles, nor food, nor (clothing excepted) any of those endless commodities which daily tax the householder; and, though your income is small, you yourself are rich, for you might easily save the half of it. Sad pity that so many squander on treats or useless trinkets the wages for which they work so hard! Would it not be nobler to do as some have done, and educate a nephew, or young brother? or do as others have done, and maintain in comfort an infirm or aged parent? And would it not be wiser to lay up a good foundation against the coming time, and, by putting aside a monthly or yearly sum, to build a bulwark between yourself and future poverty? That shilling which you spent at the pastry-cook’s would have bought a Bible for a heathen family. That crown which you lavished on the brooch or the bracelet would have bought a blanket for your poor old grandfather, and many a lime would his palsied limbs have thanked you during these bitter nights. And those soverei”jns and tens of pounds which have melted away, you know not how, had the bank or the benefit fund* receiveil them, with what a lightened look might you now survey those hapless years when you shall be able to work or earn no longer! What think you? Will you henceforth try the plan of frugality and self-

There is such a fund connected with the Servants’ Benevolent Institution, 32 Sackville street. Servants sometimes lend money to relatives commencing business, or to persons who offer them a tempting interest. Now, a tempting interest just means a terrible risk. It means that the borrower is so unlikely ever to return the loan, that people whose business it is to lend money can not trust them; and therefore he is obliged to offer six and eight per cent, to servants, and widowed ladies, and people who know nothing of business, and are likely to take the bait. In regard to relations: it may often be kind and helpful to give them a present of money, but a loan is neither kind nor helpful. It is not kind, for you give it with the hope of getting it all again; and it is not helpful, for “easily gotten quickly goes;” and at the end of the year they will need it as much as ever. In givinfr, you only hope for gratitude, and are pretty sure to get it: in Icnditvj;, people hope for both gratitude and repayment, and usually get neither.

denial? Will you try how little may suffice for your present self, and bow much you can save for your aged and worn-out self? and how much you can spare for those dear ones who do not fare so well nor lodse so pleasantly as you? Will you just count up how much you have expended on the “lust of the eye, and the pride of life?” on dress, and vanity, and idle show? These fancies did you no service at the time, and they all have perished in the using. Be persuaded, how, to try the more excellent plan; and though you may find it hard at first to pass bright ribands and silken bargains, there is a threefold pleasure which will soon requite you: the sweetness of self-denial, the comfort of having somewhat provided against evil days, and the luxury of doins eood.

But you say that I have quite mistaken in supposing you unhappy in your present place. The family in which Providence has cast your lot is kind and considerate. It is a family in which God is feared and worshipped, and you are encouraged to frequent his house, and sanctify his sabbath. If so, determine that no whim nor misconduct of yours shall ever part you from God’s people. Put forth your utmost efforts to win their confidence, and let cheerful industiy be your daily thank-offering to Him who has so highly favored you. And, thouirh a Christian servant will not waste her master’s property, whosoever that master be, it is a great comfort when you think that the food or fuel whicliyou save, or the furniture of which you are so careful, is something husbanded for the poor, or for the Christian treasury. And, though a Christian servant will be active, and obliging, and orderly, whatever her employers are, she has another motive added, when she thinks that her civility, and neatness, and good sense, are increasing the happiness of a Christian home. Melancthon, the great reformer, was not rich, but he loved to show hospitality, and he needed to buy books, and travel a great deal in the service of the church, and he often said that he owed it all to the good management of his old and faithful servant, John of Sweden. And just as we have known pious servants, who, rather than leave a pious family, would have continued to serve for nothing, so we have also known Christian families who, rather than see a faithful servant homeless in her declining days, were glad to retain, as an old friend, the inmate whom they had first received beneath their roof as a servant — “not now a servant, but a mother, a sister, beloved in the Lord.”