THE WAYSIDE GUIDE-POST; OR, THREE WORDS OF DIRECTION FOR THE NEW YEAR. BY THE REV. RICHARD WILTON, M.A., RECTOR OF LONDESBOROUGH, EAST YORKS. T happened last Autumn that my wife and I, seeking a short holiday from cares domestic and parochial, determined to drive across country to a distant railway station; and thence take the train to the seaside, where so many thousands annually find relief and expansion from the narrow and monotonous, though dear, round of duty, in the grand monotony of murmuring waves and the magnificent circumference of the ocean horizon. When we had proceeded some miles on our journey, and had reached a lonely and remote part of the country, we found ourselves in a great dilemma. It was a place where two ways meet," and since one way seemed as likely as the other to lead in the direction of the sea, it was most difficult for us to decide between the conflicting probabilities. altogether insufficient for the occasion. Of course, after a long and anxious deliberation we took the wrong road, and were sent miles out of our way, and greatly delayed in our journey, all through the short-comings of a guide-post. The little incident led me to reflect how much may frequently depend, in the Church and in the world, on the character and conduct of one individual-how much harm may be done if he fails in filling the post of duty which God has given him-how much good may be done if he conscientiously fulfils his vocation, however humble or obscure. A Christian may do immense good by simply being a Christian-by just standing at his post, with "Heavenwards" inscribed on his life and character. Countless travellers to the ocean of eternity may be led to take the right way, by seeing that silent signal point But why, the reader asks, did you not looking in the right direction; whereas if his at the guide-post? Alas! we had looked, but all in vain. There stood the wooden post with both its arms amputated at the shoulder. So far from possessing any fingers to point with, it had scarcely the stump of a limb to indicate the way, or the fragment of a coat (of paint) marked with one letter of a name! A guide-post, indeed! It seemed placed there only to mock the poor traveller by withholding from him the information which he wanted, and to laugh in its sleeve at his efforts to discover some broken hint of the motto which it once bore on its arms! As I said before, it could not lift a finger to help him. There it stood, stupidly silent and utterly useless-a dumb, provoking log. Unhappily, there was nobody else near to supply us with the information which the guide-post failed so signally to impart. The fields around were empty of labourers-the roads were deserted by travellers-and we were left to the light of nature and reason, which (as often in greater matters) were hands hang down-if the pointers fail to do their duty-if just at that particular spot there is no witness for God, many a soul may take the wrong road which otherwise might have taken the right one, and miss heaven through that failing guide-post. One individual failing to do his duty may mislead hundreds. The want of one godly man may be the ruin of multitudes : not to mention the infinite harm done by a guidepost that purposely misleads by wilful transposal of the pointers. One intentionally evil life tells on successive generations, as we see in the notorious example of "Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, who made Israel to sin." And as I thought about the good a guidepost does all unawares, it seemed to me that great encouragement might be afforded by it to many humble-minded Christians, acceptable at any time, but especially seasonable when a New Year is opening up a fresh stage of life's journey. Perhaps they are cast down by the consciousness of unprofitable C out-of-the-way place, with few eyes to see it, and with little to excite admiration even in those few. How different the lot of that beautiful oak with the deer and the daisied grass beneath it, and the birds singing and building their nests in its branches. What soft shadows those spreading boughs throw upon the greensward, and how sweetly they rustle, with their myriad leaves, to the mild south wind, and even make music with the falling raindrops. ness. They feel they have scarcely one talent for God's service in the world. And yet if they are striving to lead a religious life, they may be doing immense good without knowing it. They do good by not doing harm--the ornament of some patrician park— negatively. They do good positively by simply standing at their post, pointing men by their lives to heaven, showing travellers the right way to that great mysterions sea which breaks on the far-stretching shores of the unknown future. Such humble Christian persons may live in out-of-the-way places. They are so much the more wanted there. And day by day, and year by year, they may be useful to many a passer by, unknowingly directing him, at "a place where two ways meet," and where there is no one else to bear witness for God and eternity. How many travellers glance at a guide-post and pass on, leaving no trace of the good it has afforded them, not writing their names on the faithful fingers, or thinking to chronicle their gratitude; but none the less indebted for their arrival at home to the directions which that obscure but plainly inscribed guide-post held up before their view. So, how many may take knowledge of us, and take heart from us, and be helped on their way to heaven, if we just occupy our place and point silently by our consistent lives to heaven's eternal shore. And three duties seemed impressed on my mind as I mused on the wayside guide-post, which we may all appropriately set before. ns at the beginning of a New Year,-Contentment, Conscientiousness, Perseverance. Contentment. To be "content with such things as we have,"-our position, our work, our surroundings. A wayside guide-post may seem a very humble, uninteresting, unpretending, thing -compared, for instance, with a branching forest tree. Look at that plain, straight post, naked and bare; with its stiff arms stretched out uncomfortably, at perpetual right angles; with the dust from the highway for ever blowing in its face, or the rain pouring down on its unprotected head. Banished, too, most likely, to some dreary, Such discontented thonghts may be supposed sometimes to stir the sapless heart of the wayside guide-post, as it sees from afar the favoured oak, and remembers how it has itself been rooted up from its sylvan home, and stripped of its boughs and foliage, so that it cannot cast a shadow that would comfort a tired sheep, and can scarcely tempt a sparrow to roost on its bare arms. But the guide-post may well dismiss such envious and dissatisfied feelings. It has a work to do which the oak is incapable of. For who ever lost his way in a pleasant park? or what passing traveller would look for direction to an umbrageous forest tree, which, with all its sweet murmurings and outstretched arms, cannot give him one articulate word of guidance, or indicate, by one sign, the point of the compass towards which he must bend his steps? It is better to show a single weary traveller his way to the distant city, than to shelter a herd of graceful deer from the heat, or throw idle shadows all day long on the summer grass. It is better to be useful by the wayside. than to be ornamental in the pleasure ground. We may well be content with our position, though the dust blows in our face, and we have to bear the burden and heat of the day, if we are permitted to direct one immortal traveller, who is ready to faint by the roadside, to that City which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God. Our place of residence and of work is chosen for us; and, however remote and obscure it may be, depend upon it, Infinite Wisdom will allot to its children the very position where they will be most useful-where He has work which they can best perform for Him-where their influence will be most salutary, and where they could least be spared. Their sphere of duty may be contracted, but it is none the less Divinely ordered. And the question with us should be, not how conspicuously we may serve, but how well? And, perhaps, in eternity the insignificant guide-post will overtop the towering oak. And this leads us to the second lesson which we may learn from the wayside guidepost : Conscientiousness. If the duties we have to do be humble, let them at least be done thoroughly. In a guide-post everything depends on the lettering being clear and legible, and the fingers pointing in the right direction. Three or four names are to be held aloft—a very simple duty; but it is of the utmost importance that they should be so exhibited that "he may run who reads" them, and that there should be no manner of doubt which road each pointer indicates. Those three or four names, if carelessly interchanged, or wilfully substituted for each other, may be the means of producing infinite mischief, sending travellers in exactly the opposite direction to that which they desire. Or, if the lettering of the names is obscure, and difficult to read, the passer-by may be delayed and hindered, if not misled in his journey. And once again, if the fingers are broken and disfigured, or altogether wanting, the guide-post becomes worse than useless; it is a standing mockery—a monument of inefficiency and a symbol of duty unconscientiously neglected. While, on the other hand, a guide-post standing firm and upright in its place, with its fingers pointing in the right directions, and the lettering fairly and legibly inscribed, is the very type of a conscientious Christian man, performing thoroughly the duties of his position to his own credit and the continual advantage of all with whom he has to do. It is well, then, to ask ourselves, Is this conscientious discharge of duty the characteristic of our lives? Are we standing firmly at our post-not the post of our own choosing, perhaps, but the post where we have been placed by circumstances, which are nothing but Providence in action? Is the general influence of our character pointing men in the direction of the heavenly city and the eternal shore? Are our little duties, if any are little, conscientiously performed? Does each separate letter stand out distinctly, without blur or obscurity? Are our motives sincere, our actions irreproachable? Is our religion reflected in our lives-" known and read of all men ?" Are our every-day dealings with the world, in all the relations of life, as pure as our profession is elevated? In fine, does conscience govern us in things small as well as great? Conscientiousness is taught us by the guide-post. Perseverance is another lesson we may learn from it. There the guide-post stands, year after year-by day and by night-by sunlight and by moonlight-in fair weather and in foul--always in its place, always holding out to the traveller a kind, helping hand. Sometimes the heavy folds of a mist wrap it round, but still it stands firm, glimmering through the dimness, a welcome sight to the bewildered wayfarer. Sometimes it is half-buried in a snowdrift, but still it holds its own with unmoved foot and outstretched finger, and encourages the baffled traveller to struggle on, by showing him the longed-for name, and assuring him of the right direction. And perhaps in some remote neighbourhoods the guide-post may seem to be quite useless for days and weeks together-seen only by the countryfolk around, who do not require its help, and perhaps cannot even read the inscription on its pointers. But none the less it keeps its place, and perseveres in the performance of its duty, until the strangers come who need its assistance, and bless the friendly hand which directs them to their distant destination. The guide-post argues not, complains not, wearies not, but perseveres. It bides its time, and thus it does its work in the world, cheering many a weary wayfarer and guiding many a perplexed traveller, until age or accident relieves it from its labour, and it ceases at once to be useful and to be seen. And it is by perseverance in the performance of duty that the Christian man achieves his most signal successes. He does not allow himself to become weary in well-doing. Duty is dear to him for its own sake, and for the sake of the Master who allotted it to him. The particular post of duty is nothing; the duty itself is the grand consideration. Wherever he may be placed he desires to remain, stedfast and unmoveable, persevering in the work which has been given him to do, and doing it "As ever in the great Taskmaster's eye." There he stands, "holding forth the Word of life," in sight of many or of few, in evil report or good report, in sunshine or in cloud, through all the changing winds of doctrine, and varying drifts of fashion or opinion. However the face of heaven or earth may change however the landscape may smile or lower-his face remains serene, his principles stand firm, he perseveres in pointing, by word and example, to the City which has foundations, and where change and instability are unknown. Now he may be wrapped round by the heavy mists of wilful misrepresentation-now he may be threatened by the drifting storm of popular disfavour-yet still he holds his own and bides his time, waiting with calm confidence until he shall see the enveloping mist melt into air, and the gathering drift melt into earth, and both disappear, leaving him more than ever "rooted and grounded" in love and duty, and more than ever looked up to by the witnesses of his persevering stedfastness. How many a young Christian, weak and wavering, and darkly groping his way along the untried road, has been encouraged and strengthened by the sight of some stedfast believer, quietly performing his daily duty with assured step and serene countenance-the index of a faith which is founded on a rock, and is incapable of being shaken or disturbed. It is the chance eye falling on the patient guide-post, which gives its help and comfort all unawares. Wherever a tried Christian lives and labours, it soon becomes known that at that particular part of the road there is direction to be obtained when it is wanted, even though his work may seem at present to be unheeded. The dark and cloudy day will come when his guidance is sure to be appreciated, if he perseveres in letting his light shine, and in pointing with the silent finger of a holy life to the eternal skies. Sooner or later the Christian's day of usefulness is sure to arrive-or rather, of the manifestation and reward of his usefulness-if he is willing to wait at his post, and bide his time, in a spirit of contentedness, conscientiousness, and patient perseverance. And now in drawing these musings to a conclusion, I may perhaps observe that I have quite forgiven the guide-post which sent us so far out of our way. I don't desire any sympathy from my readers for the vexation of that roundabout journey. I am quite willing that they should be glad we were so badly used by that broken guide-post! For such a feeling would indicate their satisfaction with the reflections which that trifling circumstance occasioned. And I venture to hope that many of my readers may be induced to take the three words of direction which we have found inscribed on our wayside guide-post as their motto for the New Year, and that Contentment, Conscientiousness, and Perseverance, may be our companions through the whole of that stage of Life's journey which will be remembered in eternity as eighteen hundred and seventy-one. |