Mary Jones and Her Bible Chapter 3 Two Miles to a Bible The next Sunday, Mary was up betimes, though not so early, of course, as on a weekday. I must put on my shoes for Sunday school, mother, she said, for it is like a service, isn't it? Yes, answered Mrs. Jones, but with more Bible reading, I think. It will be lovely, I know, said Mary. and kissed her parents goodbye and waving to her mother as she walked away down the long mountain road. Bless her, said Mrs. Jones. She is ever eager to learn God's word. I, that is so, wife, replied Jacob. The Lord has laid his hand on her for blessing, I am sure, and I feel she will go far in his service. Nearly the whole day school came to this first Sunday school. The keen, active minds of these Welsh children reveled in any new outlet for their energy. The classes were held in small groups, for several good Abergynolan folk had volunteered to help in the teaching. Mary was in a senior class, taken by a deacon of the chapel. We shall be studying the Gospel of St. Matthew, he told his pupils, and as many of them could not even yet read very well, he read and explained the first chapter. He noticed Mary's engrossed attention, her face alight with the questions she longed to ask. "'Yes, my dear child,' said the deacon. "'Did you wish to ask anything?' "'I thought the other part was the first chapter,' answered Mary. "'I did not know of this first one.' "'What is the other part that you speak of?' questioned the deacon. Mary hesitated. Shall I repeat it? she then asked. Yes, indeed, do, the deacon answered. Mary stood up and repeated the first twelve verses of the second chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel without a fault. So vivid and so simple is the narrative that she had learned them without effort through hearing them read at Christmastime services. That is very good, said the deacon, with great satisfaction. That is the beginning of the second chapter, which we shall take next Sunday. You have a Bible in your home. That will be a very great help in these lessons. No, sir, answered Mary, flushing a little. We have no Bible in our house. They are very expensive, and what is worse, very scarce, replied the deacon. We cannot get any Welsh Bibles for this Sunday school. But there is a society, the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, that publishes Bibles in English. We hope that our good friend, the Reverend Thomas Charles, will be able to move this society to print some in Welsh for us. We shall be reading the second chapter next Sunday. If any of you boys and girls can get to a Bible during the week, study that chapter. It will help in next Sunday's lesson. How did you learn that portion of Scripture so well if you have no Bible, my child?" the deacon then asked, turning to Mary. I learned it by hearing it read in chapel, sir," answered Mary. Well, well, indeed, said the deacon. You have done well. A quiet, restful afternoon was followed by a mild evening, and all the Jones family went down to service in Montfahengel village. After the service, Mary followed Mrs. Evans the farm out to the chapel porch. "'May I speak to you a moment, Mrs. Evans, ma'am?' she asked, touching Mrs. Evans's softly on the arm. "'Why, yes, of course, Mary,' answered Mrs. Evans. "'What is it?' "'Please, ma'am,' said Mary, "'two years ago you promised me that if I ever went to school and learned to read, I might come to your house and use your Bible for study.' "'Well,' said Mrs. Evans, "'I know you go to school, but can you read already?' "'Yes, ma'am,' Mary answered. "'And now a Sunday school is opened. "'It began today, and I would like so much to come "'and prepare the lesson for next Sunday, if I may. "'It would be such a help.' "'Of course you may,' Mrs. Evans replied heartily. "'When I made that promise, I meant it. "'When will you come?' "'Saturday afternoon would be best,' said Mary, when I have finished my work." "'Very well,' said Mrs. Evans. "'Next Saturday afternoon I shall look out for you, and tell your mother you will be staying with us to tea.'" "'Oh, thank you, Mrs. Evans,' cried Mary. "'Thank you.'" Mrs. Evans climbed into the pony trap beside her husband. "'You know you are welcome, dear,' she called. So the following Saturday, Mary climbed the mountain road to the Evans farm. It was a beautiful day, clear and still. The distant sea was blue and calm. Touches of yellow gores bloom brightened the near surroundings. Mary paused and looked across the rough slopes towards the shore. She felt, rather than thought of, the beauty that lay around her. for her mind was absorbed by a deep content for all that had happened in the last few months and the sure hope of what the future held. What was that in the reading in chapel last Sunday, she thought? There failed not ought of any good thing which the Lord had spoken unto the house of Israel all came to pass. That is like me, she commented. She walked on full of confidence soon reached the farm. It was a typical old Welsh house of grey stone with tall chimneys and picturesque stepped gables, that is, with the slopes rising in notches or steps to their peaks. Though it was now wintertime, the flower beds and lawn in front of the house were trimmed and neat. As Mary walked up the path to the side door, farmer Evans came into the garden from the farmyard. Ah, Mary, my little lass," he called. That's right, you are up in good time. You will have two hours or more of daylight. Would you like to take a look at the farm just for a moment?" Farmer Evans was proud of his farm, and with good reason. He paused with Mary just inside the yard gate. We won't cross the yard, he said. It would make your feet dirty. Those are a fine lot of cows, don't you think? But I expect you are more interested in the poultry. Mrs. Evans looks after them, as you do yours." I see the field where the sheep used to graze is being plowed," remarked Mary. Why is that?" "They didn't do well there," answered Farmer Evans. I lost a lot of lambs last year. Too exposed, I think. So I am putting them down in the hollow, and putting up with the loss," he added with a smile. I am like Job, Mary. I say, Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil? We could see the sheep from our garden when they were in the high field, said Mary. And once when I was little, there was a reading in chapel about God washing us from our sins, and we should become white like wool. And I thought, How strange! Farmer Evans's are quite dark, not a bit white. Then one day I was in Lanfahango with Father, and I saw some fleeces, and underneath the dark, dirty outside part I saw the wool as it really was, clean and white, nothing else could be so beautifully white, and I understood what the Bible meant then. Yes, they are lovely, agreed Farmer Evans, and it shows that the more we know of the truth of things, the better we understand the Scriptures, and also how right the Scriptures are. You will be wanting to go into your Bible study, but I must show you something that we think is a good idea. See that little paddock where the pony is? We call it Hospital Meadow, for there we put the sick animals to rest and get better." "What a grand idea!" exclaimed Mary. I do think that is lovely for the animals. And thank you, Mr. Evans, for showing me the farm." "Come in, my dear," called Mrs. Evans, in answer to Mary's knock. Saturday afternoon is my baking time, so you have come on a good day. But come straight into the parlor, unless you would like to warm yourself by the fire first. No? Well, you don't look cold. Have you got paper and pencil to note your texts?" Yes, thank you," said Mary. I brought some with me. Then you can set to work at once," answered Mrs. Evans as she led the way into the parlor. Here is the Bible, covered with a cloth. I don't need to tell you to be careful how you turn the pages." No indeed, ma'am," Mary answered as she seated herself in the chair that Mrs. Evans pulled forward. Mrs. Evans returned to her baking, and Mary turned back the covering cloth from the Bible. There it lay, a massive volume, with embossed binding and a brass clasp. For the first time in her life, Mary was alone with the Bible, and she paused looking at it with reverence. Then she opened the book and turned the leaves. It was difficult to find her way amongst the various books. The leaders in chapel seemed to find their places so easily, but Mary spent some little time and a good deal of thought over the Old Testament, meeting the books of which she knew the titles as with friends. At last she reached the New Testament and St. Matthew's Gospel. She was still busy making notes when Mrs. Evans' little boy called her to tea. Carefully, she covered the Bible again, putting back her chair, and then joined the Evans family in the kitchen. It was a merry meal, for the Evans' children were quite overjoyed at having a young visitor up at their quiet home. There were two boys, their elder sister already being grown up, and as they attended the grammar school a few miles away, But they knew very little of village school life, and were highly interested in Mary's account of hers. Though Mary came from a poor cottage home, and the farm kitchen seemed to her quite a grand place, she conducted herself naturally and easily with her hosts, both young and old. The Welsh people have this gift. They are never awkward in their manner toward strangers, no matter what their position may Rank simply does not seem to count with them, which shows, perhaps, that the Welsh have always been a free people. "'Come again!' shouted the boys after her as she went down the mountain path. "'Of course she is coming again,' said their mother. "'She is coming every Saturday, for I am sure she will not miss one week.' As Mary walked through the darkening winter evening, she thought of the kindness of these friends at the farm. She thought of what she had read that afternoon, and what a help it had been. But, after all, it had been hurried. She had wanted more time. I shall have spent an hour in coming and going that I might have had at home with the Bible if I had one, she thought. A sense of tremendous need rose up within her. I must have a Bible of my own, she murmured. And with that sense of need came a great resolve like an over-mastering force. I will have a Bible. I will work and save, even if it is for ten years and buy one for myself." She walked on swiftly, thinking of ways and means. What could she do to earn money? Perhaps I could have a swarm of bees of my very own and sell the honey, she thought. That won't take up much of my time. She had not finished working out this first scheme when she reached the cottage. father," she said, when they were all sitting by the fire. "'Could you make me a little box, please?' "'What?' answered her father, smiling. "'Are you going to leave us and go traveling, that you need a box?' "'Oh, no,' laughed Mary. "'I don't mean that kind of box. I want a little box to put money in, with a hole in the top.' "'Oh, a money box! I think I can manage that. And where is the money coming from?' Father? Mother?" said Mary earnestly. I have made up my mind. I am going to earn money as I can, and save up to buy myself a Bible for my very own. Then I can read it properly. She went on, and we can have readings every night when we have prayers all together. Her face glowed with the thought. You have a very busy life already, dear, said her mother doubtfully, but I will help you all I can. You are beginning to sew very nicely, and you ought to be able to get a little needlework to do sometimes." "'And do you think I could have a swarm of bees of my own?' said Mary. I thought of that when I was coming home from the farm this evening." "'Yes,' said Jacob, "'they ought to pay well. There is that old hive in the outhouse. I will mend it for you. David Lewis Everything will let me have a bit of paint and it will be as good as new, ready for a swarm in May. He will let you have a swarm, too. He is a rare beekeeper." Thank you, Father," said Mary gratefully. She sat quiet for a while, gazing into the fire, but her face showed how busy her thoughts were. I am thinking of all the promises in the Bible that I can remember," she said at last. Promises that God makes to people who try hard to learn about Him. and to those who work and pray hard for some good thing. Be strong and of a good courage, quoted her mother softly. That was Joshua, wasn't it? I have always remembered those words out of the prophet Isaiah, I think, said Jacob. I learned them when I was a boy. They went like this. For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed. but my kindness shall not depart from thee." I thought it was so wonderful. The mountain seemed so sure and unmovable, yet even they might be brought down before God's kindness failed us. Then Jesus has given us so many beautiful promises, said Mary. I will not leave you comfortless. I will come to you. And, lo, I am with you always. even unto the end of the world. And whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it to you. So you can go on with your plans in sure hope, Mary dear, said Mrs. Jones, for the Bible says somewhere, He is faithful, that promised, and I will trust and not be afraid. So Mary continued her trips to the farm every Saturday, and with her day school Sunday school, housework, and homework in the evenings, her life was a full one. But above it all, her one great purpose, that she should buy a Bible for herself, stood out in her mind. For the more she studied the Bible, the more she longed to possess one of her own. One Saturday evening, her parents were working at their looms as usual, and listening for Mary's return from the farm. At length the clock struck eight. Mrs. Jones rose, and going to the window she pulled aside the curtain and looked out. How late Mary is, she said. It is gone eight o'clock. She has never been so late before, and it is so dark. Not even any starlight. I hope she has come to no harm. Never fear, Molly, answered Jacob. She is on the Lord's business, and the Lord will take care of her. She is not thoughtless like some children. But the short way is so rough and dangerous, said Mrs. Jones, and she always goes that way. But in the dark it is not really safe. I wish she would come. Well, I will go and meet her if you wish, said Jacob. But I know what she would say. Oh, father, I can't have you coming out in the cold nights. I shall feel as if I must not go to the farm. And then what shall I do? No, Molly, I should feel that I was a hindrance to her, and I am certain that God is watching over her every step of the way. Hark! There she is." Mary's quick step could be heard on the garden path, and she came in looking flushed and animated. "'Why are you so late, Mary dear?' asked Mrs. Jones. "'Were you anxious, mother?' Mary said. "'You need not have been. I have had such a wonderful time at the farm this evening. I had just finished studying tomorrow's lesson. It is the seventh chapter of St. Matthew, the first twelve verses, and the whole was so easy and so beautiful that I read on and on and learned the whole chapter. I had just finished when Farmer Evans came in, and he asked me if I understood what I had read, and I said that some of it was rather difficult. So he sat down and we went through the chapter together, and he explained the hard parts so clearly and nicely. And I know the chapter perfectly now. After supper, would you like me, father and mother, to repeat it all through to you?" We should indeed like to hear it, dear child," answered Jacob Jones. When supper was finished, Jacob sat in his chair by the chimney. Mrs. Jones took some knitting in her hands, and Mary seated herself on a stool and recited the chapter. Her parents listened, deeply moved, for she spoke the sacred words with an emphasis and earnestness that showed her complete understanding. When she came to the words, Ask, and it shall be given you, Seek, and ye shall find, Knock, and it shall be opened unto you, her voice lifted, and her eyes kindled, and they knew that she was thinking of her great desire and was taking the assurance of that promise to her heart. Chapter 4 Earning for the Bible Look in the cupboard, lass, and you will see something you will like, said Jacob Jones one afternoon when Mary returned from school. Mary ran to the cupboard. Oh, my money box!" she exclaimed. How pretty! Thank you, Father dear. Now I can begin to save. Oh, it rattles! There is something in it already! Only two half pennies, dear. One each from your mother and me," said Jacob. But we felt we must be the first to put something in, to make a start. They sound grand," answered Mary, shaking the bright blue-painted box. Thank you, Mother and Father. I feel rich already." She went out to the outhouse for some wood, and came back with a few sticks. The sticks are all finished, she said, but it is still light enough. I will run out and gather a few. She hurried over to a heathy place where pieces of dead firswood and suchlike lay scattered around. She soon got a good bundle, and was thinking of home when she heard an old woman's voice. Queryless and doleful, not far away. Old Mrs. Rees, thought Mary, and walked in the direction of the voice. Good evening, Mrs. Rees, she called. Is anything the matter? Can I help you? An old woman, who had been stooping, also to pick up sticks, straightened herself and looked at Mary. Oh, it's Mary Jones, she said. It's my rheumatism, my dear. It is so hard for me to stoop about on this rough ground to pick up sticks. Now you have a nice bundle. Could you spare half of it? I would give you a half penny for it if you would." Mary's first impulse was to give the old woman half her wood out of kindness, but she thought of her money box. That I will, she answered, and separated a generous half of the wood from the bundle. Thank ye, said Mrs. Rees. That will save me a lot of pain and trouble. and here is the half penny. If you would like to bring me a bundle like this sometimes on your way to school, I will gladly give you the same for it." "'Oh, thank you, Mrs. Rees,' cried Mary. "'I will. It will be no trouble. I will always do it for you.'" The old woman hobbled off, and Mary almost danced back to her home. "'Look, father! Look, mother!' she cried. "'I have been earning money since I went out. She took down the money-box and dropped the half-penny into it with a satisfying clank. Poor old Mrs. Rees is going to pay me a half-penny for every bundle of wood I get her. She is so rheumaticky that she has asked for some of mine just now. I don't suppose she will be able to afford it very often, but it will be a half-penny every now and again. What a splendid start I have made! Soon after this happened, Mary was at the farm as usual one Saturday afternoon, preparing the Sunday school lesson. On this day, before tea, Mrs. Evans invited her to come out to the farmyard. I want to show you my chickens, Mary, she said. We have a fine lot this year. The fowls all gathered around Mrs. Evans as she picked her way into the yard. No, no, you greedy creatures, she cried. You know you have been fed. "'What a grand lot of fowls!' exclaimed Mary. "'And such a lot of chicks!' "'Yes,' said Mrs. Evans. "'You see that big speckled cock and that hen and that hen?' pointing them out as she spoke. "'I am going to give you those for your very own. "'The hens will be laying soon, and you can sell the eggs and do what you wish with the money. "'I can guess what you will do with the money, now that you have set yourself the task of earning enough to buy a Bible.' It will be a great bit of work, and I like to be able to help you." "Oh, Mrs. Evans, ma'am, I can't think what to say to thank you enough." "Don't worry about that," replied Mrs. Evans. I admire you, child, for your brave spirit, and wish you all the success. The farm boy will bring the fowls over when he goes to market next week. Now it is getting late, and you must have some tea before you go home." Never mind about thanking me. May God bless and prosper you, my dear." Mary sped down the dusky road that evening, her feet not carrying her fast enough. She was so eager to tell her parents of this new piece of good fortune. Great was the rejoicing in the cottage that night, not only for the money value of Mrs. Evans's gift, but for her kindness in thinking of it. Everybody is so kind," said Mary. Do you know, Mother, I seem to have made a lot of friends since I started to earn for my Bible. People I used to know only just a little I know quite well now, and they are so friendly. The other day I was passing Mrs. Davies' cottage. That Mrs. Davies who is always scolding and shouting at her children. I always hurry past if I can, but that day the smallest child was out in the road. It had got through the gate somehow, and it might have been hurt or lost. So I took it in to its mother, and Mrs. Davies was ever so kind and friendly. She said that she is nearly always feeling ill, and she worries, because if she should be so ill that she had to be in bed, what should become of the children? She asked if I would come and help her sometimes. She said she would pay me. Mr. Davies is not poor. Do you think I could, mother?" You don't seem to have much time to spare, Mary dear," said Mrs. Jones, but you might give the poor woman a little help now and again, just to give her a rest. So sometimes Mary would stop at the Davies cottage on her way home from school and do a little washing or ironing or bathe the children or any other little thing to ease Mrs. Davies of her burden. and she would bring home a half penny and drop the coin, hopefully, in her box. Spring was coming, and the evenings were drawing out. "'Now that the evenings are light, Mary,' said Jacob one morning, "'I should like you to go to Towan this evening for me to take an order for some yarn.' "'Yes, father,' answered Mary. "'I will come back as early as I can. It will be a nice walk. I will go on from Abergynolan and walk back through Lonnegrin Don't go too far out of your way, dear," said Mrs. Jones anxiously. It is a long walk." "No, mother, I will be careful," Mary assured her mother. Mary loved to get down to the sea sometimes, and she enjoyed the expedition. But it was a long walk back to Lanfahangle, especially as she frequently stopped and looked back at the broad sweep of Cardigan Bay that lay still and dusky beneath her. She was not far from home and was plodding up the road when her foot kicked something heavy, yet soft, that was lying in the dust. Mary stooped and looked, wondering what it was, and picked up a leather purse, heavy and bulky. I wonder who has lost it, thought Mary, as she walked on. It feels as if it is full of money. Father will know what I had better do with it. She walked on for half a mile or so. and then saw a man coming slowly towards her. He was searching every inch of the road as he walked. Then she recognized him. He was Farmer Greaves, a brother-in-law of Mrs. Evans. Good evening, Mary Jones, he said. I have lost my purse. You don't happen by any chance. A purse? exclaimed Mary. I have just found a purse. It was lying in the road. She held the purse for Farmer Greaves to see. "'Oh, that is my purse,' he said. "'How fortunate that you have found it. It is getting so dark that I might not have seen it.' "'No, indeed,' answered Mary as she moved on. "'I should not have seen it myself, but I kicked it as I was walking.' "'Wait,' Mary Jones called the farmer. "'I would like to give you something as a little reward or acknowledgment for your help.' He fingered a shilling in his pocket. But he was not generous like his sister-in-law, Mrs. Evans. He found a sixpence and gave it to Mary. There, a little gift, he said awkwardly. Thank you. Good night. Mary had not expected any reward, so a whole silver sixpence seemed like a treasure. It certainly lightened the last half-mile of her homeward way, and as she dropped the coin into her box, she felt quite a thrill. A whole sixpence! Half a shilling, she murmured. My little box hasn't got only coppers in it now. The summer of that year was a very happy one. Mary was full of confidence that she would soon get her Bible. Often many weeks passed without a penny going into the box. But now that she had really started to save, her determination grew stronger. The money already saved made the longed-for possession more real. It was what the gypsies call a Hansel, a beginning. The little helps that she sometimes gave sick Mrs. Davies became known to other hard-worked mothers. Soon it was a custom for Mary to collect the small children on her way from school on fine days from a group of cottages that she passed, and to sit with them amongst the heather and bracken, keeping them amused with stories from the Bible. It gave the mothers freedom to prepare their husband's evening meal in peace, and the children loved that hour with Mary more than their play. They would listen as she told and retold the stories with never-failing interest, and Mary, who knew so much more now that she attended Sunday school and could read the Bible at the farm, never tired of telling what she had learned. Tell us that story about the little boy who had the five loaves and two fishes, a small boy would say. And Mary would liken the scene at Bethsaida to one the children were looking upon from their grassy height, the rugged slopes down to the sea and the wide bay, so like the Sea of Galilee glistening in the sun. She would tell the story in the simple way that her little hearers could understand. Or a little girl would make a request. Tell us about the little girl whom Jesus made alive again. There was often much discussion after the telling of that miracle. They were very rude people for laughing at Jesus, and they were wrong too. How kind he was to think of the little girl needing something to eat. Of course, he was always thoughtful. But people, young or old, like to do something besides listen. And Mary would teach the children a metrical psalm, the only kind of hymn that was commonly sung in those days, and the bray would ring with the children's shrill voices. Then Mary would shepherd her flock back to their homes, and the mothers would thank her and tell her what a help this free hour had been, and would say, There, Mary dear, there is a little for your money box, and give her a half penny, or perhaps only a farthing if the woman was poor. So the box grew heavy and Mary wondered how much she really had by now. I will wait until I have had it a year, she said to her mother, then I will open the box and count my money. It was a great moment when Mary, her mother and father, sitting with her at the table, cut the paper that closed the little trap door at the bottom of the box and shook the money out. She placed the half pennies and farthings in piles, and, with the six pence from Farmer Greaves, she reckoned her year's savings. Eleven pence, three farthings, she said at last, and sat looking solemnly at the little heaps of money. For the first time in that whole year her heart failed her. Her mind went back over all the work and stinting and denial that the money meant, and it was less than a shilling. Not quite a shilling, she said aloud, her voice trembling a little. Jacob rose from the table and went to his coat that hung on the door. He came back and put a shilling on the table and drew the odd change toward him. It is a shilling now, Mary, he said quietly. I think you have done wonderfully, Mary dear, said Mrs. Jones comfortingly, and you will do better still this next year. For you will be able to sell some chicks when the hens sit. And I think you might get a little needlework, too, for you sew quite nicely now." Yes, said Mary, her spirit quickly reviving after the first downcast moment, I shall do things that pay better. But I shall do all the same old things, too, she added, laughing. She picked up the box. It is lighter, and yet it is worth more, she said. Thank you, Father dear. She ran round the table and flung her arms round her father's neck and kissed him. Jacob put an arm around her and patted her affectionately. If you have faith, as a grain of mustard seed, it can remove mountains, he said. That cost of the Bible seemed like a mountain before you just now, didn't it, lass? But you will remove it, never fear. Yes, father, said Mary, I know I shall, for Jesus has promised it. She went quietly up to her bedroom, and before undressing, she knelt by her bed, and the Holy Spirit grew strong in her as she prayed. Lord Jesus, she whispered, and she felt that she was speaking to an ever-present ally by her side. I know thou wilt give me strength and help. Please show me what I can do to earn my Bible soon. When she lay down at last, she was full of confidence and strong resolution. A quiet strength seemed to possess her, and she fell asleep quite happy. Earnest and faithful prayer is always answered. Only those who pray with a wavering belief doubt this, for they have no experience of true, confident prayer. The next morning, Mary went to school as usual. She expected to do the usual things and to return at the end of the day to the work that Mrs. Jones was forced to leave for her to do. Mr. Ellis, the schoolmaster, was entering the school as Mary arrived at the door. Good morning, Mary, he said, in good time as usual. In that first year of school life, the master had grown to look upon Mary as one almost apart from the other children, her unfailing attention to her lessons Her quick, thoughtful answers, when all the others sat dumb, gave him the joy that all good teachers feel over an intelligent, interested pupil. Mary, on her part, admired and respected her master, so there was a bond of quiet friendship between them. I am glad you are early, Mary, said Mr. Ellis, for I wanted to ask you if you know of any woman who could do some needlework for my wife. I suppose your mother is too busy at her weaving. But Mrs. Ellis would be glad of some help, just with plain work. I believe she has some curtains that need hemming, and such like from time to time." It came just like that, God's answer, quietly and naturally. My mother will be too busy to do the work, answered Mary, but I can do it. I will gladly do it. Her eyes shone at the wonderful opportunity. Mother was saying only last evening that I ought to be able to get some needlework to do. She says I do it quite nicely enough." Then the way opened, Mary told her master of her one great desire to have a Bible of her own, of the years' work of earning and saving, and her determination, and now the joyful hope that this offer of work would bring. "'Well, well,' exclaimed Mr. Ellis, "'this is indeed interesting. In fact, it is wonderful. How old do you say you are? Eleven? We must surely give you all the help and encouragement we can. Come round to our house in the dinner hour, Mary, and Mrs. Ellis will give you some work to take home. God bless you and prosper you, Mary." The children were going into school, and Mr. Ellis went in. Mary walked to her desk in a happy dream. God had answered her prayer, and so soon. It was wonderful. That afternoon Mary walked home with a large bundle in her arms. Dear me, child, cried her mother, when she saw her come in. What have you got there? You seem to have got some work to do at last. Yes, mother, answered Mary with a blissful smile. What do you think? This very morning Mr. Ellis told me that Mrs. Ellis needed someone to do some plain needlework, and asked if I knew of anyone who could do it. I said I could do it. Oh, Mother, I prayed last night that God would show me the way to earn more, and the answer came this very morning. I am so happy. I feel so close to God when He answers me like this. Indeed, yes, dear, replied Mrs. Jones, much moved. It is hard for us always to remember that he is so near. But he is. And I shall love the work, Mary went on, as she unrolled the curtain-cloth for her mother to see. Are not the roses pretty? And Mrs. Ellis was so kind. She said it would take at least a day to hem all these pieces. And her mother used to pay her old sewing-woman six pence a day, and give her meals. So Mrs. Ellis said that she would pay me sixpence just the same, though I am so young. A whole sixpence, mother! Isn't that grand?" Jacob Jones came in just then. "'Alas,' he cried, "'are you going to make yourself a new dress? You will look as fine as a butterfly.'" So Jacob had to hear the whole story again, and then Mary sat down, with a light heart, to do her first piece of paid sewing. This Reformation audio track is a production of Stillwater's Revival Books. SWRB makes thousands of classic Reformation resources available, free and for sale, in audio, video, and printed formats. Our many free resources, as well as our complete mail-order catalog, containing thousands of classic and contemporary Puritan and Reform books, tapes, and videos at great discounts, is on the web at www.swrb.com. We can also be reached by email. by phone at 780-450-3730 by fax at 780-468-1096 or by mail at 4710-37A Edmonton Alberta, abbreviated capital A, capital B, Canada, T6L3T5. You may also request a free printed catalog. And remember that John Calvin, in defending the Reformation's regulative principle of worship, or what is sometimes called the scriptural law of worship, commenting on the words of God, which I commanded them not, neither came into my heart. From his commentary on Jeremiah 731, writes, God here cuts off from men every occasion for making evasions, since He condemns by this one phrase, I have not commanded them, whatever the Jews devised. There is then no other argument needed to condemn superstitions than that they are not commanded by God. For when men allow themselves to worship God according to their own fancies, and attend not to His commands, they pervert true religion. And if this principle was adopted by the papists, all those fictitious modes of worship in which they absurdly exercise themselves would fall to the ground. It is indeed a horrible thing for the Papists to seek to discharge their duties towards God by performing their own superstitions. There is an immense number of them, as it is well known, and as it manifestly appears. Were they to admit this principle, that we cannot rightly worship God except by obeying His word, they would be delivered from their deep abyss of error. The Prophet's words, then, are very important, when he says that God had commanded no such thing, and that it never came to his mind, as though he had said that men assume too much wisdom when they devise what he never required, nay, what he never knew.