Then the
thought of his own mother came across him, and the promise he had made
at her knee, years ago, never to forget to kneel by his bedside, and
give himself up to his Father, before he laid his head on the pillow,
from which it might never rise; and he lay down gently, and cried as if
his heart would break. He was only fourteen years old.
It was no light act of courage in those days, my dear boys, for a little
fellow to say his prayers publicly, even at Rugby. A few years later,
when Arnold's manly piety had begun to leaven the School, the tables
turned; before he died, in the School-house at least, and I believe in
the other house, the rule was the other way. But poor Tom had come to
school in other times. The first few nights after he came he did not
kneel down because of the noise, but sat up in bed till the candle was
out, and then stole out and said his prayers, in fear lest some one
should find him out. So did many another poor little fellow. Then he
began to think that he might just as well say his prayers in bed, and
then that it didn't matter whether he was kneeling, or sitting, or lying
down. And so it had come to pass with Tom, as with all who will not
confess their Lord before men; and for the last year he had probably not
said his prayers in earnest a dozen times.
Poor Tom! the first and bitterest feeling which was like to break his
heart was the sense of his own cowardice.
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