The history of the two shoemakers. Part IV.

THE TWO SHOEMAKERS.

"YOUR condition, as to this world is indeed very low," replied the good Divine. "But what are mines, dungeons or gallies, to that eternal hopeleſs priſon to which your unrepented ſin muſt ſoon have conſigned you. Even in this gloomy priſon, on this bed of ſtraw, worn down by pain, poverty, and want, forſaken by your worldly friends, an object of ſcorn to thoſe with whom you uſed to carouſe and riot; yet here, I ſay, brought thus low, if you have at laſt found out your own vileneſs; and your utterly undone ſtate by ſin, you may ſtill be more an object of 〈…〉 in the ſight of GOD, than when you thought 〈…〉 proſperous and happy; when the world ſmiled upon you, and you paſſed your days and nights in envied gaiety and unchriſtian riot. If you will but improve the preſent awful viſitation; if you do but heartily renounce and abhor your preſent evil courſes; if you even now turn to the Lord your Saviour with lively faith, deep repentance, and unfeigned obedience, I ſhall have more hope of you than of many who are going on quite happy, becauſe quite inſenſible. The heavy laden ſinner, who has diſcovered the iniquity of his own heart, and his utter inability to help himſelf, may be ſtill reſtored to GOD's ſavour, and become happy, though in a dungeon. And be aſſured, that he who from deep and humble contrition dares not ſo much as lift up his eyes to heaven, when with a hearty faith he ſighs out, Lord be merciful to me a sinner, ſhall in no wiſe be caſt out. Theſe are the words of him who cannot lie."

It is impoſſible to deſcribe the ſelf-abaſement, the grief, the joy, the ſhame, the hope, and the fear, which filled the mind of this poor man. A dawn of comfort at length ſhone on his benighted mind. His humility and fear of falling back into his former ſins, if he ſhould ever recover, Mr. Thomas thought were good ſymptoms of a ſound repentance. He improved and cheriſhed every good diſpoſition he ſaw ariſing in his heart, and particularly warned him againſt ſelf-deceit, ſelf-confidence and hypocriſy.

One day, when Mr. Thomas and Mr. Stock came to ſee him, they found him more than commonly affected. His face was more ghaſtly pale than uſual, and his eyes were red with crying. "Oh, Sir," ſaid he, "what a ſight have I juſt ſeen! Jolly George, as we uſed to call him, the ring-leader of all our mirth, who was at the bottom of all the fun, and tricks, and wickedneſs that are carried on within theſe walls, Jolly George is juſt dead of the jail diſtemper! He taken, and I left! I would be carried into his room to ſpeak to him, to beg him to take warning by me, and that I might take warning by him. But what did I ſee! what did I hear! not one ſign of repentance; not one dawn of hope, Agony of body, blaſphemies on his tongue, deſpair in his ſoul, while I am ſpared and comforted with hopes of mercy and acceptance. Oh, if all my old friends at the Greyhound could but then have ſeen Jolly George! A hundred Sermons about Death, Sir, don't ſpeak ſo home, and cut ſo deep, as the ſight of one dying ſinner."

Brown grew gradually better in his health, that is, the fever mended, but the diſtemper ſettled in his limbs, ſo that he ſeemed likely to be a poor weakly cripple the reſt of his life. But as he ſpent much of his time in prayer, and in reading ſuch parts of the Bible as Mr. Thomas directed, he improved every day in knowledge and piety, and of courſe grew more reſigned to pain and infirmity.

Some months after this, his hardhearted father, who had never been prevailed upon to ſee him, or offer him the leaſt relief, was taken off ſuddenly by a fit of apoplexy; and, after all his threatenings, he died without a will. He was one of thoſe ſilly, ſuperſtitious men, who fancy they ſhall die the ſooner for having made one; and who love the world and the things that are in the world ſo dearly, that they dread to ſet about any buſineſs which may put them in mind that they are not always to live in it. As, by this neglect, his father had not fulfilled his threat of cutting him off with a ſhilling, Jack, of courſe, went ſhares with his brother in what their father left. What fell to him proved to be juſt enough to diſcharge him from priſon, and to pay all his debts, but he had nothing left. His joy at being thus inabled to make reſtitution was ſo great, that he thought little of his own wants. He did not deſire to conceal the moſt trifling debt, nor to keep a ſhilling for himſelf.

Mr. Stock undertook to 〈◊〉 all his affairs. There did not remain money enough, after every creditor was ſatisfied, even to pay for his removal to his own town. Mr. Stock kindly ſent his cart for him with a bed in it, made as comfortable as poſſible, for he was too weak and lame to be removed any other way, and Mr. Stock gave the driver a particular charge to be tender and careful of him, and not to drive hard nor to leave the cart a moment.

Mr. Stock would fain have taken him into his own houſe, at leaſt for a time, ſo convinced was he of his ſincere reformation both of heart and life; But Brown could not be prevailed on to be further burdenſome to this generous friend. He inſiſted on being carried to the pariſh work-houſe, which he ſaid was a far better place than he deſerved. In this houſe Mr. Stock furniſhed a ſmall room for him, and ſent him every day a morſel of meat from his own dinner. Tommy Williams begged that he might always be allowed to carry it, as ſome atonement for his having for a moment ſo far forgotten his duty, as rather to rejoice than ſympathize in Brown's misfortunes. He never thought of this fault without ſorrow, and often thanked his maſter for the wholeſome leſſon he then gave him, and he was the better for it all his life.

Mrs. Stock often carried poor Brown a bit of tea or a baſon of good broth herſelf. He was quite a cripple, and never able to walk out as long as he lived. Mr. Stock, Will Simpſon, and Tommy Williams laid their heads together, and contrived a ſort of barrow on which he was often carried to church by ſome of his poor neighbours, of which Tommy was always one; and he requited their kindneſs, by reading a good book to them whenever they would call in, or teaching their children to ſing Pſalms or ſay the catechiſm.

It was no ſmall joy to him thus to be enabled to go to church. Whenever he was carried by the Greyhound he was much moved, and uſed to put up a prayer full of repentance for the paſſ, and praiſe for the preſent.

A Dialogue between James Stock and Will Simpson, as they sat at their Work.

James Stock, and his journeyman Will Simpſon, as I informed my readers in the ſecond part of the Two Shoemaker's, had reſolved to work together one hour every evening in order to pay for Tommy Williams's ſchooling. This circumſtance brought them to be a good deal together when the reſt of the men where gone home. Now it happened that Mr. Stock had a mighty way of endeavouring to turn all common events to ſome uſe; and he thought it right on the preſent occaſion to make the only return in his power to Will Simpſon for his great kindneſs. For, ſaid he, if Will gives up ſo much of his time to help me to provide for this poor boy, it is the leaſt I can do to try to turn part of that time to the purpoſe of promoting Will's ſpiritual good. Now as the b •• t of Stock's own mind was religious, it was eaſy to him to lead their talk to ſomething profitable. He always took eſpecial care however, that the ſubject ſhould be introduced properly, cheerfully, and without conſtraint. As he well knew that great good may be ſometimes done by a prudent attention in ſeizing proper opportunities, ſo he knew that the cauſe of piety had been ſometimes hurt by forcing ſerious ſubjects where there was clearly no diſpoſition to receive them. I ſay he had found out that two things were neceſſary to the promoting religion among his friends; a warm zeal to be always on the watch for occaſions, and a cool judgment to diſtinguiſh which was the right time and place to make uſe of them. To know how to do good is a great matter, but to know when to do it is no ſmall one.

Simpſon was an honeſt good-natured fellow; he was now become ſober, and rather religiouſly diſpoſed. But he was ignorant, he did not know much of the grounds of religion, or of the corruption of his own nature; he was regular at church, but was firſt drawn thither rather by his ſkill in pſalm-ſinging than by any great devotion. He had left off going to the Greyhound, and often read the Bible or ſome other good book on the Sunday evening. This he thought was quite enough; he thought the Bible was the prettieſt hiſtory book in the world, and that religion was a very good thing for Sundays. But he did not much underſtand what buſineſs people had with it on working days. He had left off drinking becauſe it had brought Williams to the grave, and his wife to dirt and rags; but not becauſe he himſelf had ſeen the evil of ſin. He now conſidered ſwearing and ſabbath breaking as ſcandalous and indecent, but he had not found out that both were to be left off becauſe they are highly offenſive to God, and grieve his Holy Spirit. As Simpſon was leſs ſelf-conceited than moſt ignorant people are, Stock had always a good hope that when he ſhould come to be better acquainted with the word of God, and with the evil of his own heart, he would become one day a good Chriſtian. The great hindrance to this was, that he fancied himſelf ſo already.

One evening Simpſon had been calling to Stock's mind how diſorderly the houſe and ſhop, where they were now ſitting quietly at work, had formerly been, and he went on thus;

Will.

How comfortably we live now, maſter, to what we uſed to do in Williams's time! I uſed then never to be happy but when we were keeping it up all night, but now I am as merry as the day is long. I find I am twice as happy ſince I am grown good and ſober.

Stock.

I am glad you are happy, Will, and I rejoice that you are ſober; but I would not have you take too much pride in your own goodne •• for fear it ſhould become a ſin, almoſt as great as ſome of thoſe you have left off. Beſides I would not have you make quite ſo ſure that you are good.

Will.

Not good, maſter! why don't you find me regular and orderly at work?

Stock.

Very much ſo, and accordingly I have a great reſpect for you.

Will.

I pay every one his own, ſeldom miſs church, have not been drunk ſince Williams died, have handſome clothes for Sundays, and ſave a trifle every week.

Stock.

Very true and very laudable it is; and to all this you may add that you very generouſly work an hour, for poor Tommy's education, every evening without fee or reward.

Will.

Well, maſter what can man do more? I fall this is not being good, I don't know what it is.

Stock.

Will theſe things are very right as far as they go, and you could not well be a Chriſtian without doing them. But I ſhall make you ſtare perhaps when I tell you, you may do all theſe things and many more, and yet be no Chriſtian.

Will.

No Chriſtian! ſurely, maſter, I do hope that after all I have done, you will not be ſo unkind as to ſay I am no Chriſtian.

Stock.

God forbid that I ſhould ſay ſo, Will. I hope better things of you. But come now, what do you think it is to be a Chriſtian?

Will.

What! why to be chriſtened when one is a child, to learn the Catechiſm when one can read, to be confirmed when one is a youth, and to go to church when one is a man.

Stock.

Theſe are all very proper things, and quite neceſſary. They make a part of a Chriſtian 〈◊〉 ▪ But for all that, a man may be exact in them all, and yet not be a Chriſtian.

Will.

Not be a Chriſtian! ha! ha! ha! you are very comical, maſter.

Stock.

No indeed, I am very ſerious, Will. At this rate it would be a very eaſy thing to be a Chriſtian, and every man who went through certain forms would be a good man; and one man who obſerved theſe forms would be as good as another. Whereas, if we come to examine ourſelves by the word of GOD, I am afraid there are but few comparatively whom our Saviour would allow to be real Chriſtians. What is your notion of a Chriſtian's practice?

Will.

Why, he muſt not rob nor murder, nor get drunk. He muſt avoid ſcandalous things, and do as other decent orderly people do.

Stock.

It is eaſy enough to be what the world calls a Chriſtian, but not to be what the 〈◊〉 calls ſo.

Will.

Why maſter we working men are not expected to be ſaints, and martyrs, and apoſtles and miniſters.

Stock.

We are not. And yet, Will, there are not two ſorts of chriſtianity; we are called to practice the ſame religion which they practiſed, and ſomething of the ſame ſpirit is expected in us which we reverence in them. It was not ſaints and martyrs only to whom our Saviour ſaid that they muſt "crucify the world with its affections and luſts." We are called to "be holy" in our meaſure and degree, "as he who hath called us is holy." It was not only ſaints and martyrs who were told that they muſt be "like-minded with Chriſt"— That "they muſt do all to the glory of God"—That they muſt renounce the ſpirit of the world, and deny themſelves." It was not to apoſtles only that Chriſt ſaid, "they muſt have their converſation in Heaven. It was not to a few holy men ſet apart for the altar, that he ſaid, "they muſt ſet their affections on things above"—That they "muſt not be conformed to the world." No, it was to Fiſhermen, to Publicans, to Farmers, to Day-labourers, to poor Tradeſmen, that he ſpoke when he told them, they muſt "love not the world, nor the things of the world"—"That they muſt renounce the hidden things of diſhoneſty, grow in grace, lay up for themſelves treaſures in Heaven."

Will.

All this might be very proper for them to be taught, becauſe they had not been bred up Chriſtians, but Heathens or Jews: and Chriſt wanted to make them his followers, that is, Chriſtians. But thank God we do not want to be taught all this, for we are Chriſtians, born in a Chriſtian country, of Chriſtian parents.

Stock.

I ſuppoſe then you fancy that Chriſtianity comes to people in a Chriſtian country by nature?

Will.

I think it comes by a good education or a good example. When a fellow who has got any ſenſe ſees a man cut off in his prime by drinking, I think he will begin to leave it off. When he ſees another man reſpected, like you, maſter, for honeſty and ſobriety, and going to church, why he will grow honeſt and ſober and go to church; that is he will ſee it is his advantage to be a Chriſtian.

Stock.

Will, what you ſay is the truth, but 'tis not the whole truth. You are right as far as you go, but you do not go far enough. The worldly advantages of piety, are, as you ſuppoſe, in general great. Credit, proſperity, and health, almoſt naturally attend on a religious life, both becauſe a religious life ſuppoſes a ſober and induſtrious life; and becauſe a man who lives in a courſe of duty puts himſelf in the way of God's bleſſing. But a 〈◊〉 Chriſtian has a ſtill higher aim in 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 follow Religion even under 〈◊〉 , when it may hurt his credit 〈…〉 his proſperity, if it ſhould ever happen to be the will of God that he ſhould be brought into ſuch a trying ſtate.

Will.

Well, maſter, to ſpeak the truth, if I go to Church on Sundays, and follow my work in the week, I muſt ſay I think that is being good.

Stock.

I agree with you, that he who does both gives the beſt outward ſigns that he is good as you call it. But our going to Church, and even reading the Bible, are no proofs that we are as good as we need be, but rather that we do both theſe in order to make us better than we are. We do both on Sundays, as means, by God's bleſſing, to make us better all the week. We are to bring the fruits of that Chapter or of that Sermon into our daily life, and try to get our inmoſt heart and ſecret thoughts, as well as our daily conduct, amended by them.

Will.

Why, ſure maſter, you won't be ſo unreaſonable as to want a body to be religious always? I can't do that neither. I'm not ſuch a hypocrite as to pretend to it.

Stock.

Yes, you can be ſo in every action of your life!

Will.

What, maſter, always to be thinking about Religion?

Stock.

No, far from it Will; much leſs to be always talking about it. But you muſt always be acting under it's power and ſpirit.

Will.

But ſurely 'tis pretty well if I do this when I go to Church; or while I am ſaying my prayers. Even you, maſter, as ſtrict as you are, would not have me always on my knees, nor always at Church, I ſuppoſe; for then how would your work be carried on, and how would our town be ſupplied with ſhoes?

Stock.

Very true, Will. Twould be no proof of our religion to let our cuſtomers go barefoot; but 'twould be a proof of our lazineſs, and we ſhould ſtarve as we ought to do. The buſineſs of the world muſt not only be carried on, but carried on with ſpirit and activity. We have the ſame authority for not being ſlothful in buſineſs as we have for being fervent in ſpirit. Religion has put godlineſs and lazineſs as wide aſunder as any two things in the world; and what God has ſeparated, let no man pretend to join. Indeed, the ſpirit of religion can have no fellowſhip with ſloth, indolence, and ſelf-indulgence. But ſtill, a chriſtian does not carry on his common trade quite like another man neither; for ſomething of the ſpirit which he labours to attain at church, he carries with him into his worldly concerns. While there are ſome who ſet up for Sunday chriſtians, who have no notion that that they are bound to be week-day chriſtians too.

Will.

Why, maſter, I do think, if God Almighty is contented with one day in ſeven, he won't thank you for throwing him the other ſix into the bargain. I thought he gave us them for our own uſe; and I am ſure nobody works harder all the week than you do.

Stock.

God, it is true, ſets apart one day in ſeven for actual reſt from labour, and for more immediate devotion to his ſervice. But ſhew me the text, wherein he ſays, thou ſhalt love the Lord thy God on Sundays—Thou ſhalt keep my commandments on the Sabbath day—To be carnally minded on Sundays is death—Ceaſe to do evil and learn to do well one day in seven—Grow in grace on the Lord's day—Is there any ſuch text?

Will.

No, to be ſure there is not; for that would be encouraging ſin in all the other days.

Stock.

Yes, juſt as you do when you make religion a thing for the church and not for the world. There is no one lawful calling in purſuing which we may not ſerve God acceptably. You and I may ſerve him while we are ſtitching this pair of boots. Farmer Furrow, while he is plowing yonder field. Betſy Weſt, over the way, whilſt ſhe is nurſing her ſick mother. Neighbour Inckle, in meaſuring out his tapes and ribbons. I ſay, all theſe may ſerve God juſt as acceptably in thoſe employments as at church, I had almoſt ſaid more ſo.

Will.

Aye, indeed—how can that be? Now you're too much on t'other ſide.

Stock.

Becauſe a man's trials in trade being often greater, they give him freſh means of glorifying God, and proving the ſincerity of religion. A man who mixes in buſineſs, is naturally brought into continual temptations and difficulties. Theſe will lead him, if he be a good man, to look more to God, than he perhaps would otherwiſe do. He ſees temptations on the right hand and on the left he knows that there are ſnares 〈…〉 , this makes him watchful▪ he feels that the enemy within is too 〈◊〉 to betray him, this makes him humble himſelf; while a ſenſe of his own difficulties makes him tender to the failings of others.

Will.

Then you would make one believe, after all, that trade and buſineſs muſt be ſinful in itſelf, ſince it brings a man into all theſe ſnares and ſcrapes.

Stock.

No, no, Will; trade and buſineſs don't create evil paſſions—they were in the heart before—Only now and then they ſeem to lie ſnug a little—our concerns with the world bring them out into action a little more, and thus ſhew both others and ourſelves what we really are. But then as the world offers more trials on the one hand, ſo on the other it holds out more duties. If we are called to battle oftener, we have more opportunities of victory. Every temptation reſiſted, is an enemy ſubdued; and "he that ruleth his own ſpirit, is better than he that 〈…〉 a city."

Will.

I don't quite underſtand you, maſter.

Stock.

I will try to explain myſelf. There is no paſſion more called out by the tranſactions of trade than covetouſneſs. Now, 'tis impoſſible to withſtand ſuch a maſter ſin as that, without carrying a good deal of the ſpirit of religion into one's trade.

Will.

Well, I own I don't yet ſee how I am to be religious when I'm hard at work, or buſy ſettling an account. I can't do two things at once; 'tis as if I were to pretend to make a ſhoe and cut out a boot at the ſame moment.

Stock.

I tell you both muſt ſubſiſt together. Nay the one muſt be the motive to the other. God commands us to be induſtrious, and if we love him, the deſire of pleaſing him ſhould be the main ſpring of our induſtry.

Will.

I 〈…〉 how I can always be thinking about pleaſing God.

Stock.

Suppoſe, now, a man had a wife and children whom he loved, and wiſhed to ſerve, would not he be often thinking about them while he was at work? and though he would not be always thinking about them, yet would not the very love he bore them be a conſtant ſpur to his induſtry? He would always be purſuing the ſame courſe from the ſame motive, though his words and even his thoughts muſt often be taken up in the common tranſactions of life.

Will.

Well, I ſay firſt one, then the other; now for labour, now for religion.

Stock.

I will ſhew that both muſt go together. I will ſuppoſe you were going to buy ſo many ſkins of our currier —that is quite a worldly tranſaction —you cant ſee what a ſpirit of religion has to do with buying a few calves' ſkins. Now, I tell you it has a great deal to do with it. Covetouſneſs, a deſire to make a good bargain, may riſe up in your heart. Selfiſhneſs, a ſpirit of monopoly, a wiſh to get all, in order to diſtreſs others; theſe are evil deſires, and muſt be ſubdued. Some opportunity of unfair gain offers, in which there may be much ſin, and yet little ſcandal. Here a Chriſtian will ſtop ſhort, he will recollect, "that he who maketh haſte to be rich ſhall hardly be innocent." Perhaps the ſin may be on the ſide of your dealer —he may want to overreach you—this is provoking—you are tempted to violent anger, perhaps to ſwear,—here is a freſh demand on you for a ſpirit of patience and moderation, as there was before for a ſpirit of juſtice and ſelf-denial. If, by God's grace, you get the victory over theſe temptations, you are the better man for having been called out to them; always provided, that the temptations be not of your own ſeeking. If you give way, and ſink under theſe temptations, don't go and ſay that trade and buſineſs have made you covetous, paſſionate, and prophane. No, no; depend upon it, you were ſo before; you would have had all theſe evil ſeeds lurking in your heart, if you had been loitering about at home and doing nothing, with the additional ſin of idleneſs into the bargain. When you are buſy, the devil often tempts you; when you are idle, you tempt the devil. If buſineſs and the world call theſe evil tempers into action, buſineſs and the world call that religion into action too which teaches us to reſiſt them. And in this you ſee the Week-day fruit of the Sunday's piety. 'Tis trade and buſineſs in the week which call us to put our Sunday readings, praying, and church-going into practice.

Will.

Well, maſter, you have a comical way, ſome how, of coming over one. I never ſhould have thought there would have been any religion wanted in buying and ſelling a few calves' ſkins. But, I begin to ſee there is a good deal in what you ſay.—And, whenever I am doing a common action, I will try to remember that it muſt be done after a godly ſort.

Stock.

I hear the clock ſtrike nine— let us leave off our work. I will only obſerve further, that one good end of our bringing religion into our buſineſs is, to put us in mind not to undertake more buſineſs than we can carry on conſiſtently with our religion. I ſhall never commend that man's diligence, though it is often commended by the world, who is not diligent about the ſalvation of his ſoul. We are as much forbidden to be overcharged with the cares of life as with it's pleasures. I only wiſh to prove to you, that a diſcreet Chriſtian may be wiſe for both worlds; that he may employ his hands without entangling his ſoul, and labour for the meat that periſheth without neglecting that which endureth unto eternal life; that he may be prudent for time, while he is wiſe for eternity.

THE HYMN. O That the Lord wou'd guide my ways, To keep his ſtatutes ſtill! O that my God wou'd give me grace To know and do his will! Lord, ſend thy ſpirit down to write Thy love upon my heart, Nor let my tongue indulge deceit, Nor act a liar's part. From vanity, Lord, turn mine eyes, Let no corrupt deſign, No covetous deſires ariſe Within this ſoul of mine. Order my footſteps by thy word, And make my heart ſincere; Let ſin have no dominion, Lord, But keep my conſcience clear. My ſoul hath gone too far aſtray, My feet too often ſlip; I wou'd not, Lord, forget thy way, Bring back thy wand'ring ſheep. Make me to walk in thy commands, 'Tis a delightful road; Nor let my head, or heart, or hands, Offend againſt my God.

THE PRODIGAL SON.

This HYMN was frequently ſung by JACK BROWN in the WORKHOUSE.

I. BEHOLD the wretch whoſe luſt and wine Have waſted his eſtate; He begs a ſhare among the ſwine, To taſte the huſks they eat. II. I die with hunger here he cries, I ſtarve in foreign lands; My father's houſe has large ſupplies, And bounteous are his hands. III. I'll go, and with a mournful tongue, Fall down before his face, Father I've done thy juſtice wrong, Nor can deſerve thy grace, IV. He ſaid and haſtened to his home, To ſeek his father's love; The father ſaw the rebel come, And all his bowels move. V. He ran, and fell upon his neck, Embrac'd and kiſs'd his ſon; The rebel's heart with ſorrow breaks For ſins which he had done. VI. "Take off his cloaths of ſhame and ſin, "(The father gives command,) "Dreſs him in garments white and clean, "With rings adorn his hand. VII. "A day of feaſting I ordain, "Let mirth and joy abound, "My ſon was dead and lives again, "Was loſt and now is found.

THE END. ☞ Next week will be publiſh'd The Harveſt Home.