THERE'S ROCK AT THE BOTTOM.
When my Willie was sixteen, he accidentally dropped a valuable watch into the well. His father was absent from home, and without consulting me, he resolved to recover the treasure. Providing himself with a long-handled rake, he gave it in charge of his sister Jennie, two years younger, and bidding her lower it to him when he called, he stepped into the bucket, and holding fast by the rope, commenced his descent. The bucket descended more rapidly than Willie expected, and struck heavily against the side of the well; the rope broke, and he was thrown into the water. “Mother, I shall be drowned!” was his despairing cry, which Jennie re-echoed with a wail of anguish. But I knew the depth of the water and shouted to him as calmly as I could, “Stand upon your feet, Willie; the water isn’t over four feet deep.” “But I shall sink in the mud,” said the poor boy, still striving to keep himself afloat by clinging desperately to the slippery stones. “No, Willie, there’s rock at the bottom. Let go the stones, and stand up.” The assurance of hard foundation and the impossibility of holding much longer to the slimy surface of the stone wall gave him confidence. He felt for the bottom, placed his feet firmly upon it, and to his great joy found that the water scarcely reached his shoulders. I sent Jennie into the house for a new, strong rope, and fastening one end securely, I lowered the other to be tied into the bucket, and we drew him up. “Oh, mother!” said the dear boy, when he was rescued, “those were precious words to me, ‘There’s rock at the bottom.’ I shall never forget them.” Two years after, in a commercial panic, my husband’s property was swept away, and we were reduced to poverty. At first I bore bravely up. I did not prize wealth and luxury for my children. I chiefly mourned for my husband’s disappointment and his crushed hopes, and strove by unflagging cheerfulness to chase away the gloom which settled so heavily upon him. I endeavored to assist him, not only by the utmost economy in household expenses, but by devising plans for the future. Willie and Jennie were old enough to earn their support, and even to assist in the education of the young children. I succeeded in putting them in the way to do this. I felt strong and brave, and wondered at my husband’s despondency. But new reverses came. The bank in which Jennie had deposited her quarter’s salary, which might possibly meet our necessities, suddenly failed, and her money was lost. I could bear this too; she would soon be able to replace it. Next, the school in which she taught was disbanded, and Jennie had to take much lower wages; but she still earned a little, and I said cheerfully, “We will not murmur; half a loaf is better than no bread.” Next Willie’s hand was disabled by an accident, and he lost his situation. My courage began to give way, but rallying myself for one effort, I resolved to brave the reproach of friends and the world’s dread laugh, and seek remunerative employment for myself. It sorely tried my woman delicacy, yet it brought the needful aid, and I battled with my wounded sensitiveness and again screwed up my failing courage. But the last blow came. Sickness suddenly laid me prostrate. “I shall give up now; we must sink together,” was the language of my despairing soul. “Dear mother,” said Willie, when he heard my lamentation, “do you remember what you said to me when I was at the bottom of the well? I have often thought of it of late. I know we are in deep waters, but God has promised that they shall not overflow us. And is his word without foundation? Let us plant our feet on his promises, and stand firmly. We cannot sink, for there’s rock at the bottom.” I heard and took the lesson to my heart. I saw that I had been clinging to the slippery stones of human strength and self-dependence, and so when the providence of God bade me let go my hold. I was in despair. But the bank of Heaven had not failed; and though I stood in deep water, it would not overwhelm me, neither would I sink, for “there’s rock at the bottom.” So, from the chamber where pain and illness still hold me a prisoner, I send to each burdened and weary child of God, who is tempted to feel that all is lost, the key-note of my new and grateful psalm. Whatever your sorrow or strait may be, plant your feet on the rock of ages, and with me, “thank God and take courage.”