the story of an african farm-第21章

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over　this；　God's　earth；　and　move　among　His　believing　men。　　Hell　is　the　one

place　for　him　who　hates　his　master；　and　there　we　do　not　want　to　go。　　This

is　the　comfort　we　get　from　the　old。



And　once　again　we　try　to　seek　for　comfort。　　This　time　great　eyes　look　at　us

wondering；　and　lovely　little　lips　say：



〃If　it　makes　you　so　unhappy　to　think　of　these　things；　why　do　you　not　think

of　something　else；　and　forget？〃



Forget！　　We　turn　away　and　shrink　into　ourself。　　Forget；　and　think　of　other

things！　　Oh；　God！　do　they　not　understand　that　the　material　world　is　but　a

film；　through　every　pore　of　which　God's　awful　spirit　world　is　shining

through　on　us？　　We　keep　as　far　from　others　as　we　can。



One　night；　a　rare　clear　moonlight　night；　we　kneel　in　the　window；　every　one

else　is　asleep；　but　we　kneel　reading　by　the　moonlight。　　It　is　a　chapter　in

the　prophets；　telling　how　the　chosen　people　of　God　shall　be　carried　on　the

Gentiles'　shoulders。　　Surely　the　devil　might　leave　us　alone；　there　is　not

much　to　handle　for　him　there。　　But　presently　he　comes。



〃Is　it　right　there　should　be　a　chosen　people？　　To　Him；　who　is　father　to

all；　should　not　all　be　dear？〃



How　can　we　answer　him？　　We　were　feeling　so　good　till　he　came。　　We　put　our

head　down　on　the　Bible　and　blister　it　with　tears。　　Then　we　fold　our　hands

over　our　head　and　pray；　till　our　teeth　grind　together。　　Oh；　that　from　that

spirit…world；　so　real　and　yet　so　silent；　that　surrounds　us；　one　word　would

come　to　guide　us！　　We　are　left　alone　with　this　devil；　and　God　does　not

whisper　to　us。　　Suddenly　we　seize　the　Bible；　turning　it　round　and　round；

and　say　hurriedly：



〃It　will　be　God's　voice　speaking　to　us；　His　voice　as　though　we　heard　it。〃



We　yearn　for　a　token　from　the　inexorably　Silent　One。



We　turn　the　book；　put　our　finger　down　on　a　page；　and　bend　to　read　by　the

moonlight。　　It　is　God's　answer。　　We　tremble。



〃Then　fourteen　years　after　I　went　up　again　to　Jerusalem　with　Barnabas；　and

took　Titus　with　me　also。〃



For　an　instant　our　imagination　seizes　it；　we　are　twisting；　twirling；　trying

to　make　an　allegory。　　The　fourteen　years　are　fourteen　months；　we　are　Paul

and　the　devil　is　Barnabas；　Titus　is　　Then　a　sudden　loathing　comes　to　us：　

we　are　liars　and　hypocrites；　we　are　trying　to　deceive　ourselves。　　What　is

Paul　to　usand　Jerusalem？　　We　are　Barnabas　and　Titus？　　We　know　not　the

men。　　Before　we　know　we　seize　the　book；　swing　it　round　our　head；　and　fling

it　with　all　our　might　to　the　further　end　of　the　room。　　We　put　down　our　head

again　and　weep。



Youth　and　ignorance；　is　there　anything　else　that　can　weep　so？　　It　is　as

though　the　tears　were　drops　of　blood　congealed　beneath　the　eyelids；　nothing

else　is　like　those　tears。　　After　a　long　time　we　are　weak　with　crying；　and

lie　silent；　and　by　chance　we　knock　against　the　wood　that　stops　the　broken

pane。　　It　falls。　　Upon　our　hot　stiff　face　a　sweet　breath　of　wind　blows。　　We

raise　our　head；　and　with　our　swollen　eyes　look　out　at　the　beautiful　still

world；　and　the　sweet　night…wind　blows　in　upon　us；　holy　and　gentle；　like　a

loving　breath　from　the　lips　of　God。　　Over　us　a　deep　peace　comes；　a　calm；

still　joy；　the　tears　now　flow　readily　and　softly。　　Oh；　the　unutterable

gladness！　　At　last；　at　last　we　have　found　it！　　〃The　peace　with　God。〃　　〃The

sense　of　sins　forgiven。〃　　All　doubt　vanished；　God's　voice　in　the　soul；　the

Holy　Spirit　filling　us！　　We　feel　Him！　　We　feel　Him！　　Oh；　Jesus　Christ；

through　you；　through　you　this　joy！　　We　press　our　hands　upon　our　breast　and

look　upward　with　adoring　gladness。　　Soft　waves　of　bliss　break　through　us。

〃The　peace　with　God。〃　　〃The　sense　of　sins　forgiven。〃　　Methodists　and

revivalists　say　the　words；　and　the　mocking　world　shoots　out　its　lip；　and

walks　by　smiling〃Hypocrite。〃



There　are　more　fools　and　fewer　hypocrites　than　the　wise　world　dreams　of。　

The　hypocrite　is　rare　as　icebergs　in　the　tropics；　the　fool　common　as

buttercups　beside　a　water…furrow：　　whether　you　go　this　way　or　that　you

tread　on　him；　you　dare　not　look　at　your　own　reflection　in　the　water　but　you

see　one。　There　is　no　cant　phrase；　rotten　with　age；　but　it　was　the　dress　of

a　living　body；　none　but　at　heart　it　signifies　a　real　bodily　or　mental

condition　which　some　have　passed　through。



After　hours　and　nights　of　frenzied　fear　of　the　supernatural　desire　to

appease　the　power　above；　a　fierce　quivering　excitement　in　every　inch　of

nerve　and　blood　vessel；　there　comes　a　time　when　nature　cannot　endure

longer；　and　the　spring　long　bent　recoils。　　We　sink　down　emasculated。　　Up

creeps　the　deadly　delicious　calm。



〃I　have　blotted　out　as　a　cloud　thy　sins；　and　as　a　thick　cloud　thy

trespasses；　and　will　remember　them　no　more　for　ever。〃　　We　weep　with　soft

transporting　joy。



A　few　experience　this；　many　imagine　they　experience　it；　one　here　and　there

lies　about　it。　　In　the　main；　〃The　peace　with　God；　a　sense　of　sins

forgiven；〃　stands　for　a　certain　mental　and　physical　reaction。　　Its　reality

those　know　who　have　felt　it。



And　we；　on　that　moonlight　night；　put　down　our　head　on　the　window；　〃Oh；　God！

we　are　happy；　happy；　thy　child　forever。　　Oh；　thank　you；　God！〃　and　we　drop

asleep。



Next　morning　the　Bible　we　kiss。　　We　are　God's　forever。　　We　go　out　to　work；

and　it　goes　happily　all　day；　happily　all　night；　but　hardly　so　happily；　not

happily　at　all；　the　next　day；　and　the　next　night　the　devil　asks　us；　〃where

is　your　Holy　Spirit？〃



We　cannot　tell。



So　month　by　month；　summer　and　winter；　the　old　life　goes　onreading；

praying；　weeping；　praying。　　They　tell　us　we　become　utterly　stupid。　　We　know

it。　　Even　the　multiplication　table　we　learnt　with　so　much　care　we　forgot。　

The　physical　world　recedes　further　and　further　from　us。　　Truly　we　love　not

the　world；　neither　the　things　that　are　in　it。　　Across　the　bounds　of　sleep

our　grief　follows　us。　　When　we　wake　in　the　night　we　are　sitting　up　in　bed

weeping　bitterly；　or　find　ourself　outside　in　the　moonlight；　dressed；　and

walking　up　and　down；　and　wringing　our　hands；　and　we　cannot　tell　how　we　came

there。　　So　pass　two　years；　as　men　reckon　them。



V。



Then　a　new　time。



Before　us　there　were　three　courses　possibleto　go　mad；　to　die；　to　sleep。



We　take　the　latter　course；　or　nature　takes　it　for　us。



All　things　take　rest　in　sleep；　the　beasts；　birds；　the　very　flowers　close

their　eyes；　and　the　streams　are　still　in　winter；　all　things　take　rest；　then

why　not　the　human　reason　also？　　So　the　questioning　devil　in　us　drops

asleep；　and　in　that　sleep　a　beautiful　dream　rises　for　us。　　Though　you　hear

all　the　dreams　of　men；　you　will　hardly　find　a　prettier　one　than　ours。　　It

ran　so：



In　the　centre　of　all　things　is　a　mighty　Heart；　which；　having　begotten　all

things；　loves　them；　and；　having　born　them　into　life；　beats　with　great

throbs　of　love　towards　them。　　No　death　for　His　dear　insects；　no　hell　for

His　dear　men；　no　burning　up　for　His　dear　worldHis　own；　own　world　that　he

has　made。　　In　the　end　all　will　be　beautiful。　　Do　not　ask　us　how　we　make　our

dream　tally　with　facts；　the　glory　of　a　dream　is　thisthat　it　despises

facts；　and　makes　its　own。　　Our　dream　saves　us　from　going　mad；　that　is

enough。



Its　peculiar　point　of　sweetness　lay　here。　　When　the　Mighty　Heart's　yearning

of　love　became　too　great　for　other　expression；　it　shaped　itself　into　the

sweet　Rose　of　heaven；　the　beloved　Man…god。



Jesus！　you　Jesus　of　our　dream！　how　we　loved　you；　no　Bible　tells　of　you　as

we　knew　you。　　Your　sweet　hands　held　ours　fast；　your　sweet　voice　said

always；　〃I　am　here；　my　loved　one；　not　far　off；　put　your　arms　about　me；　and

hold　fast。〃



We　find　Him　in　everything　in　those　days。　　When　the　little　weary　lamb　we

drive　home　drags　its　feet；　we　seize　on　it；　and　carry　it　with　its　head

against　our　face。　　His　little　lamb！　　We　feel　we　have　got　Him。



When　the　drunken　Kaffer　lies　by　the　road　in　the　sun　we　draw　his　blanket

over　his　head；　and　put　green　branches　of　milk…bush　on　it。　　His　Kaffer；　why

should　the　sun　hurt　him？



In　the　evening；　when　the　clouds　lift　themselves　like　gates；　and　the　red

lights　shine　through　them；　we　cry；　for　in　such　glory　He　will　come；　and　the

hands　that　ache　to　touch　Him　will　hold　him；　and　we　shall　see　the　beautiful

hair　and　eyes　of　our　God。　　〃Lift　up　your　heads；　O；　ye　gates；　and　be　ye

lifted　up；　ye　everlasting　doors；　and　our　King　of　glory　shall　come　in！〃



The　purple　flowers；　the　little　purple　flowers；　are　His　eyes；　looking　at　us。

We　kiss　them；　and　kneel　alone　on　the　flat；　rejoicing　over　them。　　And　the

wilderness　and　the　solitary　place　shall　be　glad　for　Him；　and　the　desert

shall　rejoice　and　blossom　as　a　rose。



If　ever；　in　our　tearful；　joyful　ecstasy；　the　poor；　sleepy；　half…dead　devil

should　raise　his　head；　we　laugh　at　him。　　It　is　not　his　hour　now。



〃If　there　should　be　a　hell；　after　all！〃　he　mutters。　　〃If　your　God　should　be

cruel！　　If　there　should　be　no　God！　　If　you　should　find　out　it　is　all

imagination！　　If〃



We　laugh　at　him。　　When　a　man　sits　in　the　warm　sunshine；　do　you　ask　him　for

proof　of　it？　　He　feelsthat　is　all。　　And　we　feelthat　is　all。　　We　want　no

proof　of　our　God。　　We　feel；　we　feel！



We　do　not　believe　in　our　God　because　the　Bible　tells　us　of　Him。　　We　believe

in　the　Bible　because　He　tells　us　of　it。　　We　feel　Him；　we　feel　Him；　we　feel…

…that　is　all！　　And　the　poor；　half…swamped　devil　mutters：



〃But　if　the　day　should　come　when　you　do　not　feel？〃



And　we　laugh　and　cry　him　down。



〃It　will　never　comenever；〃　and　the　poor　devil　slinks　to　sleep　again；　with

his　tail　between　his　legs。　　Fierce　assertion　many　times　repeated　is　hard　to

stand　against；　only　time　separates　the　truth　from　the　lie。　　So　we　dream　on。



One　day　we　go　with　our　father　to　town；　to　church。　　The　townspeople　rustle

in　their　silks；　and　the　men　in　their　sleek　cloth；　and　settle　themselves　in

their　pews；　and　the　light　shines　in　through　the　windows　on　the　artificial

flowers　in　the　women's　bonnets。　　We　have　the　same　miserable　feeling　that　we

have　in　a　shop　where　all　the　clerks　are　very　smart。　　We　wish　our　father

hadn't　brought　us　to　town；　and　we　were　out　on　the　karoo。　　Then　the　man　in

the　pulpit　begins　to　preach。　　His　text　is　〃He　that　believeth　not　shall　be

damned。〃



The　day　before　the　magistrate's　clerk；　who　was　an　atheist；　has　died　in　the

street　struck　by　lightning。



The　man　in　the　pulpit　mentions　no　name；　but　he　talks　of　〃The　hand　of　God

made　visible　amongst　us。〃　　He　tells　us　how；　when　the　white　stroke　fell；

quivering　and　naked；　the　soul　fled；　robbed　of　his　earthly　filament；　and　lay

at　the　footstool　of　God；　how　over　its　head　has　been　poured　out　the　wrath　of

the　Mighty　One；　whose　existence　it　has　denied；　and；　quivering　and

terrified；　it　has　fled　to　the　everlasting　shade。



We；　as　we　listen；　half　start　up；　every　drop　of　blood　in　our　body　has　rushed

to　our　head。　　He　lies！　he　lies！　he　lies！　　That　man　in　the　pulpit　lies！　

Will　no　one　stop　him？　　Have　none　of　them　hearddo　none　of　them　know；　that

when　the　poor；　dark　soul　shut　i