The Life in Allegory "THAT I MIGHT BE LIKE UNTO HIM"

 AND it came to pass, as I travelled along the Highway of Life, that I saw in the distance, far ahead, a mountain, and on it One standing, upon whose face rested a divine compassion for the grief of the world.

His raiment was white and glittering, and in His hand was a cross. And He called unto the sons of men, saying "Come! Come! Who will take up his cross and follow me, that he may be like unto me, and that I may seat him at my right hand and share with him things glorious and beautiful beyond the dreams of earth and the imaginings of men?"

             And I said, "What is my cross, that I may take it up?"

            And a Voice answered, "There are many crosses, and thine shall be given thee in good time.

 And I said, "What will bring me near to Thee and make me most like Thee ?"

And the Voice replied, "There are many angels with whom thou canst walk; but see that they lead thee only toward me, and never away from me, for some there be that will cause thee to forget me."

And I said, "What angel shall be given me?" And I felt a hand laid upon mine, and saw beside me one with a smiling face, who said, "Walk with me; I am the Angel of Joy."

    Then all my life grew bright, and wealth was mine, and many pleasures, and friends crowded around me, and Love crowned me, and I knew no care.

      But suddenly I heard the Voice, and it sounded faint and far-off, and it said, "Alas! Thou art not coming toward me," And I fell upon my knees, crying, "Oh, forgive me that I could forget Thee! Take away the angel, since he leads me not unto Thee."

   Then the world grew dark and I heard a low voice beside me saying, "Come with me; I am the Angel of Sorrow."

      Then he took my hand in his, and I went with him, weeping. But now there were no friends around me, and pleasure palled upon me, and my heart was very sad. And as I went I saw that the Vision grew brighter, and I perceived that I was no longer walking away from it.

            But my soul was exceeding sorrowful, and I looked back often, and saw in memory the joys I had once known, until the tears blinded me, and I stumbled continually, for the path was rough, and it had begun to lead upward.

Then I heard the Voice again, and it said, "Look not back; regret not the past; I will send thee another angel who will help thee to forget the things that are behind."

Then the Sorrowful Angel vanished, and in his place stood one whose face was cheerful, and he said, "Come! let us be up and doing; I am the Angel of Work."

            And I went with him -- at first with lagging steps and a sore heart; but as my sight became clearer, I beheld many sick and discouraged, many who had fallen by the way. Then I heard the Voice again saying, "The laborers are few. Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, ye have done it unto me."

So I began to help those around me, and as my hands grew busy, my heart lightened, and I forgot to look behind me and mourn for the lost joys of the past, and at times there was even a song upon my lips. But the road was rough and often dark, and whiles my courage failed me and my soul was disquieted within me. For there were sorrows I could not comfort, and hunger I could not satisfy, and burdens I could not help to lift; and I could only stretch out my hands, and cry, "Oh, Thou who hast helped me, help these, for I cannot." 

Then the Voice said, "Be not weary in well-doing. Thou art coming toward me. I will send one who will bring thee still nearer."

Then I saw beside me an angel with a veil before his face, who said in a grave voice, "Canst thou walk with me? I am the Angel of Sacrifice."

  But I shrank back, murmuring, "What wilt thou take from me ?" And he answered, "I will take nothing. Thou must thyself give it of thine own free will. It is thy Dearest Wish."

            "Then I hid my face in my hands, and cried, "I cannot! I cannot! Ask me something else! Give me some task to do! Have I not labored faithfully these many days? Did I not myself resign the joys that were once so precious to me, and turn away from them to follow Thee? And I will still follow Thee -- still work for Thee, only leave me this one thing! It is so dear to me -- it is my light in darkness -- my food in hunger -- my rest in weariness -- my comfort always! And yet I have not loved it better than Thee; it has not led me away from Thee, nor hidden from me the Heavenly Vision."

        Then the Voice said. "Thou canst do without all these things -- light and food, rest and comfort; but canst thou do without me? And thou must choose between us. Is it too hard for thee? And yet thou saidst thou wouldst be nearer me!”

  Then I cried in answer, "Yes, yes, I would; but oh! is there not another way? Take all else, and leave me only this!" But the Voice spoke no more.

            Then I struggled until the sweat broke out upon my brow in drops of agony, and my nights were sleepless, and my days troubled, and the Vision grew dim, and I saw no light.

            But then came a day when the Higher triumphed. and with broken voice and streaming eyes. I held out my Dearest Wish, crying, "Take it, take it! Thy will be done!"

      Then the Vision broke in splendor, and I heard the Voice saying, "Thou hast fought a good fight. Now thou art indeed mine; and behold! thy reward is even now beside thee."

            So I looked, and the angel had lifted his veil and was smiling, and lo ! it was the Wish I had given up, but changed -- beautified and glorified, a heavenly blessing in the place of an earthly.

 Then it vanished from my sight, and the Voice spoke again: "Thy sacrifice is accepted. Thou shalt see it no more on Earth; but through all the days of thy mortal pilgrimage it shall be to thee a blessed hope, and it shall meet thee at the gate of Heaven, to be thine through all eternity. And thou hast come much nearer unto me, and art more like me. Dost thou desire to draw still nearer to me ?" And I cried, "Yes, yes, still nearer l" And the Voice replied. "There is but one angel more for thee to walk with. It is the Angel of Suffering."

            Then a great trembling seized me and I said, "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. I know not if I can endure. Yet do with me as Thou wilt, for I am Thine."

 Then suddenly there appeared before me an angel whose face was lined and furrowed as with the deep strokes of a chisel, yet over all there was the beauty of a conquered peace -- a peace wrested from great tribulation, the look of one who had forgotten how to weep.

And one hand he held out to me, and with the other he pointed to the ground. And I looked and saw before me the cross which I had last seen in the hand of Him upon the Mount.

            Then the Voice said, "This only is the way by which thou canst approach nearest unto me and be most like me. This is thy cross. Lie down upon it without shrinking and without fear, Thou shalt not be alone; I too have been there. I sounded all the depths of pain, and at the last I was forsaken by the Father; but that last, worst suffering thou shalt not know, for I will never leave thee nor forsake thee."

 So I lay down upon the cross, and I rest upon it even unto this day. And the Angel of Suffering watches upon my left hand, and upon my right is one who comes always with him -- the Angel of His Presence.  And of late there has been another, the Angel of Peace. And the three abide always with me. 

 And the Vision is a Vision no longer, but a Reality. And it is not a stern Judge, nor a merciful God, but a loving Father, who bends over me. The way has brought me almost to His feet. There is but a narrow valley that divides us, the Valley of the Shadow, and the angel who shall lead me through it is the Angel of Death.

    I wait his coming with a tranquil heart, for beneath the mask that frights the timid human hearts which dread his summons, I shall see a face I know --the face of the Son of God, who has walked beside me in the furnace of affliction, so that I passed through without even the smell of fire on my garments.

            And when I go down into the deep waters, it is His arm I shall lean upon, and the voice that welcomes me upon the other side will be His.

  And from the bank of the river the path leads upward to the City, which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God, and they that enter in shall go no more out forever.

And at the gate my Guide shall leave me, and I shall see Him no more until I behold Him at the right hand of God, having upon His head many crowns, and on His vesture a name written, "King of Kings, and Lord of Lords", before whose face heaven and earth shall flee away.

      And the nations of them that are saved shall stand before Him, and they that come up out of great tribulation, who endure unto the end, and inherit all things, and they shall cry with a loud voice saying, "Blessing and honor and glory and power be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever."

And in Him who sitteth upon the throne I shall know the Man of Sorrows, Whom I saw upon the Mount of the Vision, holding in His hand a cross and calling unto the sons of men, "Come! Come! 

Who will take up his cross and follow me, that he may be like unto me, and that I may seat him upon my right hand, and share with him things glorious and beautiful beyond the dreams of earth and the imaginings of men?"

A Prose Picture of a Poet

Written by Herself

             Only one prose production of Annie Johnson Flint is extant. Just once she turned from the poet's muse, and it is not strange, that even then, instead of writing common prose her pen ran from poetry to allegory.

            Outside of Bunyan's immortal work, we wonder whether a sweeter picture in allegorical form has ever been drawn. It presents in a fascinating manner a spiritual interpretation of her own life, and breathes the same air of faith and love, and confidence in the guidance and goodness of God that marked all she wrote.

            It was found among her papers in her own handwriting, with corrections as she had made them, ere laying down her pen. Before presenting her life story it makes a fitting Autobiography in Allegory of Annie Johnson Flint.