Scott Nearing - "The Debs Decision"

Gotthold Ephraim Lessing - "Die Juden"

Josephine Lawrence - "Rosemary"

Harold Spender - "Home Rule"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Bertha and Her Baptism

N >> Nehemiah Adams >> Bertha and Her Baptism




But I told him I was satisfied that the human mind, in that
development, was craving something more supernatural in religious
ordinances, to make the impression that the hand of God is in them, and
not that we are the principal party. So, instead of taking enlightened,
spiritual views of ordinances, the Tractarians sought to improve the
quality, by multiplying the quantity, of forms; and others are following
them into the Roman Catholic church in the same way.

"There always seemed to me," she said, "to be a grain of truth in every
great error. Is it not so? Even among the Brahmins of the East, and
among savages, each superstition, and every lie, retains the fossils of
some dead truth. When a new error breaks out among us, I feel that the
human mind is tossing itself, and reaching after something beyond its
experience. It seems to me," she continued, "that, at such times, it is
good for ministers and Christians to reexamine their mode of stating the
truths of the Bible, to see how far they can properly go to meet the new
development, and, by preaching the truth better, intercept it. The cold,
barren view, which many take of ordinances, makes some people hanker
after forms and ceremonies; whereas, if we would present baptism and
the Lord's Supper as divine acts toward us, we might meet the
instinctive wants of many, and hold them to the side of truth.

"But I told Mr. Dow that I was no formalist, nor did I believe in
compromising the truth to win errorists. Clear, faithful, strict
doctrinal views commend themselves to men's consciences."

I came near saying to the good lady, that, if she were able to talk in
such a strain, and to say so much to her minister, he, surely, could not
have deemed her so enfeebled in mind as to be incapacitated for
admission to the Christian church.

"I told him, also," she added, "I was satisfied that his unvarying mode
of baptism was not ordained by Him who sent the Gospel to every
creature.--Why, said I, Mr. Dow, what do you make of the apostles'
baptizing the jailer, 'at the same hour of the night,' and 'before it
was day?' It could not have been for any public effect. What need to
have it done just then? Was it superstitious and Romish? No; it was to
comfort the soul of the poor, trembling convert, with a sense of God's
love to him. How it must have soothed and cheered him to receive God's
hand of love in that ordinance, before he himself fully knew what the
making of a Christian profession implied! I want that same hand of love
here, in my prison of a sick-chamber,--And, I never thought of it much
before, but, I said then, it seemed so clear to me that they would not
have gone to all the trouble, that night, and in the prison-house, and
after the terrors of the earthquake, to put a whole family into
bathing-vessels. To take people from sleep, ordinarily, and immerse them
in water, would be a singular act; much more when they are weak and
faint, as the jailer's family must have been, from fear and excitement.
In my own case, I could not be immersed, even at home; it would probably
cost me my life. Sprinkling came to me as so sweetly harmonious, in that
scene of the jailer's baptism, that I believed it to be the apostolic
mode of baptizing, and I told Mr. D. that I should imitate the jailer;
and that I should send for a minister who could imitate Paul and Silas."

"But," said I, "what brought you to believe in the propriety of
baptizing your children?"

_Mrs. P._ Your minister enlightened me on that subject. I told him my
heart yearned to have it done; for I took the same view of it which I
have mentioned with regard to my own baptism--that it is something which
God does, to and for the children, primarily, and it is not merely a
human act. He said that it was like laying "a penal bond" on children,
to baptize them, and oblige them to do or be anything without their
consent. O, how many such "penal bonds" I have laid on my children,
already!--the more the better, I told him. "A penal bond" to love and
serve God!--I mean to add my dying charge to it, and make it as binding
as I can. How imperfect such a view of baptism is! It is God coming to
us with his seal, not we coming with our own invention to him. I wished
to have God enter into a covenant with me, who hope I love him, to be a
God to my children forever. I felt that I could die in peace, if I might
feel some assurance of this; and, it seemed to me that, to have a sign
and seal of it from God himself would make me perfectly happy.

She handed me a book, which her pastor had lent her, and she asked me to
read a passage, to which she pointed. It was an argument against baptism
in sickness. Speaking of the penitent thief, the writer says:

"The Saviour did not, as a Papist would have done, command some of the
women, that stood by bewailing, to fetch a little water; nor the
beloved disciple to asperse the quivering penitent."

Remembering the view which the mother of little Philip took of such
things, I merely said, that the writer seemed to me to asperse a large
part of the Protestant world, under the name, Papist. Christian baptism,
I remarked, had not been instituted when the Saviour and the thief were
on the cross.

I received an invitation from the husband, a day or two after, to be
present at the baptism of his wife and children. The husband was not
professedly, nor in his own view, a regenerate man, but one of the best
of husbands and fathers, destitute, however, of the one thing needful.

The wife had on a loose cashmere dressing-gown, but was sitting in bed
for greater support and comfort.

The pastor read to her the articles and covenant of the church. She
assented to them; whereupon, at his request, I laid the church-book of
signatures before her, gave her a pen full of ink, and she wrote her
name among the professed followers of the Lamb.

The pastor then declared her to be admitted, by vote of the church, into
full communion and fellowship, after she should have received the
ordinance of baptism.

He rose, and read, "And Jesus came unto them, and spake, saying, All
power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye, therefore, and
teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the
Son, and of the Holy Ghost; teaching them to observe all things
whatsoever I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you alway, even unto
the end of the world. Amen."

He continued: "My dear Mrs. Peirce, God is your God. He will have his
name written upon you, by its being called over you, with the use of his
own appointed sign and seal of baptism. The name in which he has chosen
thus to appear to you, is not God Almighty, nor his name Jehovah; but
those names which redemption has brought to view, and which impress upon
us the acts of redeeming grace and love. Do not feel, chiefly, that you
give yourself up to God in this transaction, though this, of course, you
do, and it is essential that you do so; but feel that the Father, Son,
and Spirit, come to you, and own you in the covenant of redemption, in
consequence of your accepting Christ, by faith, which itself, also, is
the gift of God. Professing repentance of your sins, and faith in the
Lord Jesus, you are now to receive, from the Sacred Three, a sign and
seal, confirming to you all the promises of grace, adopting you as a
member of the whole family in heaven and earth, and engaging God to be
your God.

"And now, as you are, yourself, a child of God, your children God adopts
to be, in a peculiar sense, his. This is the method of his love from the
beginning. Had Adam remained upright, doubtless his children would have
been confirmed in their uprightness; but, inasmuch as he fell, and, by
his disobedience, they were made sinners, God reestablished his covenant
with Abraham as the father of all believers, under a new
church-organization, to the end of time, promising to be the God of a
believer's child."

He then read this hymn; and certain expressions in it never struck me
with such force and sweetness as in that baptismal scene:

"How large the promise, how divine,
To Abraham and his seed;
I'll be a God to thee and thine,
Supplying all their need.

"The words of his extensive love
From age to age endure;
The angel of the covenant proves,
And seals, the blessing sure.

"Jesus the ancient faith confirms
To our great fathers given;
He takes young children to his arms,
And calls them heirs of heaven.

"Our God, how faithful are his ways!
His love endures the same;
Nor from the promise of his grace
Blots out the children's name."

"And now," said he, "as you belong to the church of Christ, so your
children, in a certain sense, and that a very important and precious
sense, _belong_ to the church. Your little, unconscious babe belongs, in
that sense, to the church. You will not, you cannot, misunderstand me.
These are the children of a child of God. All your brethren and sisters
in Christ count them in their great family circle. They covenant with
you to pray for them, to watch for their good, and to rejoice in it, to
provide means for their spiritual prosperity, and to seek their
salvation. But, above all, God will ever have special regard to them as
the children of his dear child.

"Receive now," said he, "the divine ordinance of baptism, whereby God
signifies to you, and seals, all that is implied in being your God."

He drew near the bed, with a silver bowl, from which he sprinkled water
upon the head and forehead of the dear believer, whose countenance
expressed the peace of receiving, rather than the effort of giving,
while her lips moved now and then during the quiet scene.

They brought Edward, the first-born, and he stood, with his hand in his
mother's hand, and was baptized. There were almost tears enough shed by
us for his baptism, had tears been needed. Lucy came next, and then the
rosy-cheeked Roger, who had been persuaded to leave his new sled, a
little while, that Saturday afternoon.

But now the little boy was coming in from his cradle. His mother raised
herself in the bed, and received him in her arms. He had been weaned,
but, on coming to his mother, he began to make some solicitations,
which, beautiful and affecting though they were, some of us endeavored
not to see, but turned to smell of some violets, and to open a book of
engravings. The mother smiled, and held him off, but immediately put two
fingers, one on each eye, and wept;--the marriage-ring on one of those
fingers,--ah, me! how had the finger shrunk away from it. The nurse took
the child and diverted its attention. The husband sat far on the bed,
put one arm under the pillow that supported his wife, and held her hand
in his. Recollections and anticipations, we knew, were thronging,
unbidden, into that mother's soul. She had been reminded of fountains of
love sealed up, and yet there were opening within her living fountains
of water. She grew calm, beckoned for a little book on the table, opened
it, and pointed her husband to a stanza, which she had marked, and he
read it for her:--

"When I can trust my all with God,
In trial's painful hour,
Bow all resigned beneath his rod,
And bless his sparing power;
A joy springs up amid distress,
A fountain in the wilderness."

That was her profession of religion, and her signal to the pastor to
proceed. The father took the little boy in his arms, held him over the
bed, before his wife; the pastor reached from the other side, and
baptized Walter, in the name of the covenant-keeping God. The father
held the child for the mother's kiss, and then took him away, fearing a
repetition of the previous scene. But the wife drew her husband back to
her, and left a kiss on his own cheek, amidst his tears.

"And now," said the pastor, after prayer, "God has been in this place,
and has himself applied to you and your children the seal of his
everlasting covenant. Do not make your faith in it to depend on the
degree of equanimity or vividness in your feelings; but remember what
Elizabeth said to Mary: 'And blessed is she that believeth, for there
shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the
Lord.'"

"O," said Mrs. P., "is it possible that I live to see this day? I almost
forget my sickness, my separation from my husband and children, in the
thought that God is my covenant God, and the God of my children. My
baptism is to me a visible writing and seal from God; and my children's
baptism is the same. I always used to think of baptism merely as a
profession on our part. O, how much more there is in it, besides that!
It is God's covenant and testimony toward me. Blessed names!" said she,
soliloquizing,--"Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! sweet society of the
Godhead! They come together; they are like the three that came to
Abraham's tent. Each has his precious gift and influence for my soul.
Why was I allowed to see this day, and enjoy this?"

The pastor said, "This is just one of those things which make us say,
'His goodness is unsearchable.' There seems to be no way of accounting
for this rich, free, sovereign love."

"Can I fear," said she, "to leave my children in such hands? No. God of
Abraham! 'thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations.'
Faithful God! 'a God to thee and thy seed after thee;' what power the
seal of the covenant has to make you believe it; yes, and seemingly to
hear it read to you. Do speak to all our dear mothers, and tell them in
health to make far more, than many do, of baptism for their children."

"And have you no blessing for me?" said the husband, as the pastor rose
to go.

"Dear sir," said the pastor, "they seem to have left you alone."

He had been sitting, somewhat out of sight, at the foot of the bedstead;
but, it was evident, from several signs, that his feelings were deeply
moved.

The pastor took his arm, and, bidding the wife an affectionate but hasty
adieu, he went with him to the sitting-room below.

"I need no arguments," said the husband, "to satisfy me, further, that
you are right. You have a system of religion which, I see, is good for
everything, and for everybody, and for all times, and places, and
circumstances. Sir, I have been sceptical; but I must confess that a
religion which can come into a family, like mine, and do what it has
done, through you, sir, to mine, and to me, must be from God. Sir, I
shall always respect our pastor for his consistency with his principles,
and for many other reasons; but I prefer principles like yours, which
can go to the sick and dying, and to little children whose mother----"

Here he began to weep. The pastor said, "To take a mother from a young
family of children, like yours, Mr. Peirce, is just the thing which we
should prevent, could we have the ordering of affairs."

"I feel," said Mr. P., "that God's hand is upon me. Passages from the
Bible, which I learned at sea, from love to my mother, come to me now.
She put a Bible in a box, and covered it up with a dozen pairs of
woollen hose, knit with her own hands. I have been saying to myself, in
the chamber, 'Behold, he cometh with clouds.' It is growing dark over my
dwelling; God is descending upon us in a cloud. 'Behold, he taketh away,
who can hinder him? Who will say unto him, what doest thou.' O, you
never lost a wife, my dear sir, nor looked on a motherless family, as I
begin to do. God help me, for I shall lose my reason."

"No, my dear sir," said the pastor; "think what has just taken place up
stairs. You now seem to say, as Manoah did, 'We shall surely die;' but
his wife said, 'If the Lord were pleased to kill us,--he would not have
showed us all these things.' God has bestowed on your children, through
their believing mother, his covenant, to be their God.--You are a Notary
Public, I believe, sir."

"I am," said Mr. Peirce.

"Then," said the pastor, "you know the importance of seals."

"O, yes," said Mr. P. "A gentleman, last week, came near losing the sale
of a large property, situate in one of the Middle States, because he had
had some papers executed, here, before a court not having a seal. I told
him, beforehand, that he was wrong; but he wished to know of what
possible use a seal could be, when the judge and the clerk used printed
forms, and the blanks were filled under their own hands. The papers came
back, and he had to do his business over again, and before a court
having a seal."

"But he was perfectly honest, at first, I presume," said the pastor,
"only the form was defective."

_Mr. P._ Yes, sir; but the form, in such a case, is the warranty. You
know that the power to have and use a seal is one of the things
specially conveyed by a legislature.

"God has seals," said the pastor. "One is baptism. It used to be
circumcision. But, as the old royal seal is broken at the coronation of
a new king, God appointed a new seal, baptism, to mark the new
dispensation; as he also changed the Sabbath of creation in honor of
his Son's reign, and removed the memorial of his deeds of greatest
renown, the Passover, for one that signifies still greater deeds, the
Lord's Supper. Thus God has his seals. He attaches great importance to
them. He binds himself by them. Your wife, being a child of God, it is
his arrangement, from the beginning, to enter into covenant with her in
behalf of her children. He stands, now, in a special relation to them,
and has placed the beautiful seal of Heaven upon his promise to that
dear sick mother, 'I will be a God to thee and to thy seed after thee.'"

"Is it necessary that the father should be left out?" said Mr. P.,
covering his face with his handkerchief. "They are mine, and God holds
me responsible for them. I am to be left alone with them in the world.
Is there not mercy for me, too? O, I had such a gleam of hope in the
chamber! As I saw the water descending from your hand upon those dear
heads, I thought, How much like a divine act such baptism is,--something
from God. I always thought of baptism as a cross, to which I must
submit; now I see that it is a token of love, bestowed upon me. So I
thought of those words: 'I am found of them that sought me not.' God
seems to have come to me in that baptism. I was expecting that, if I
ever became a Christian, I must, in token of my submission, be buried in
the waters of baptism. I would be willing to be, still, if necessary;
but that gentle baptism, coming to me and mine, seems like God being
beforehand with me, doing something with me and for me. It made me think
of Christ inviting himself into the house of Zaccheus, to save his soul.
I always felt that I must obtain religion wholly of myself; now I feel
that God has begun the work in me. I am sustained and borne on. That
baptism was the most powerful appeal that ever reached my heart. It
seems to me, in its connection with the gospel, like a beautiful
symphony of instrumental music in an anthem, which strives to interpret
the words. It proved an overture to me, indeed, in the best sense. But,
my dear sir, how near we came to losing all this which my wife has
enjoyed."

The door opened, and little Lucy came in with two plates and two silver
knives, and that great red apple which her mother had received a few
days before. "Mother sends her love to you, sir, and begs that you and
father will eat this."

They looked at the apple for a few moments, when the husband said, "I do
not feel like eating it. Do oblige me by taking it home with you."

The pastor took it home with him, placed it on his mantel-piece in his
study, where, for several days, it gave such an odor as to attract the
notice of every one that came in. The hand that sent it to him, in less
than a week had finished its work on earth. The apple then became a
hallowed thing. There it remained till it wilted, grew soft, and finally
turned nearly black.

A little, unceremonious visitant to his father's study would often climb
into the chair near the shelf, and express his wonder, and repeat his
questions, at the seeming mystery,--first, of not eating the apple, and
suffering it to be wasted; and then, of letting it remain when it ought
to be thrown away. It was not long, however, before the apple was buried
in a pot of earth. In due time green shoots appeared. And when the
pastor saw them, he said with himself, "The children of thy servants
shall continue, and their seed shall be established before thee."

How it grew in the pastor's study, a little sacramental emblem of
hallowed scenes, and of infinitely precious truths,--how a place was
selected, and afterwards prepared, for it, near a garden-wall which
separates the wife's little garden from her grave,--and how the husband
came alone, one Sabbath, and joined the church, receiving the seal of
baptism from the same hand that sprinkled the water upon the heads of
his wife and children,--I cannot tell you now, nor, after so long
detention, would you be willing at present to hear.




THE END.

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