Hinds' Feet on High Places (Complete and Unabridged) (Rediscovered Books). Hannah Hurnard

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      “At the foot of the mountains my two servants whom I have chosen to be your guides will be waiting for you. Remember, I have chosen them myself, with great care, as the two who are most able to help you and assist you in developing hinds’ feet. You will accept them with joy and allow them to be your helpers, will you not?”

      “Oh, yes,” she answered at once, smiling at him happily. “Of course I am quite certain that you know best and that whatever you choose is right.” Then she added joyfully, “I feel as though I shall never be afraid again.”

      He looked very kindly at the little shepherdess who had just received the seed of Love into her heart and was preparing to go with him to the High Places, but also with full understanding. He knew her through and through, in all the intricate labyrinth of her lonely heart, better far than she knew herself. No one understood better than he, that growing into the likeness of a new name is a long process, but he did not say this. He looked with a certain tender pity and compassion at the glowing cheeks and shining eyes which had so suddenly transformed the appearance of plain little Much-Afraid.

      Then he said, “Now you may go home and make your preparations for leaving. You are not to take anything with you, only leave everything in order. Do not tell anyone about it, for a journey to the High Places needs to be a secret matter. I cannot now give you the exact time when we are to start for the mountains, but it will be soon, and you must be ready to follow me whenever I come to the cottage and call. I will give you a secret sign. I shall sing one of the Shepherd’s songs as I pass the cottage, and it will contain a special message for you. When you hear it, come at once and follow me to the trysting place.”

      Then, as the sun had already gone down in a blaze of red and gold, and the eastern mountains were now veiled in misty mauve and grey, and the shadows were lengthening, he turned and led his flock away toward the sheepfolds.

      Much-Afraid turned her face homeward, her heart full of happiness and excitement, and still feeling as though she would never be frightened again. As she started back across the fields she sang to herself one of the songs from an old book of songs which the Shepherds often used. Never before had it seemed to her so sweet, so applicable.

      “The Song of Songs,” the loveliest song,

      The song of Love the King,

      No joy on earth compares with his,

      But seems a broken thing.

      His Name as ointment is poured forth,

      And all his lovers sing.

      Draw me—I will run after thee,

      Thou art my heart’s one choice,

      Oh, bring me to thy royal house,

      To dwell there and rejoice.

      There in thy presence, O my King,

      To feast and hear thy voice.

      Look not upon me with contempt,

      Though soiled and marred I be,

      The King found me—an outcast thing—

      And set his love on me.

      I shall be perfected by Love,

      Made fair as day to see.

      (Cant. 1:1-6)

      She walked singing across the first field and was halfway over the next when suddenly she saw Craven Fear himself coming toward her. Poor Much-Afraid: for a little while she had completely forgotten the existence of her dreadful relatives, and now here was the most dreaded and detested of them all slouching toward her. Her heart filled with a terrible panic. She looked right and left, but there was no hiding place anywhere, and besides it was all too obvious that he was actually coming to meet her, for as soon as he saw her he quickened his pace and in a moment or two was right beside her.

      With a horror that sickened her very heart she heard him say, “Well, here you are at last, little Cousin Much-Afraid. So we are to be married, eh, what do you think of that?” and he pinched her, presumably in a playful manner, but viciously enough to make her gasp and bite her lips to keep back a cry of pain.

      She shrank away from him and shook with terror and loathing. Unfortunately this was the worst thing she could have done, for it was always her obvious fear which encouraged him to continue tormenting her. If only she could have ignored him, he soon would have tired of teasing and of her company and would have wandered off to look for other prey. In all her life, however, Much-Afraid had never been able to ignore Fear. Now it was absolutely beyond her power to conceal the dread which she felt.

      Her white face and terrified eyes immediately had the effect of stimulating Craven’s desire to bait her. Here she was, alone and completely in his power. He caught hold of her, and poor Much-Afraid uttered one frenzied cry of terror and pain. At that moment Craven Fear loosed his grasp and cringed away.

      The Shepherd had approached them unperceived and was standing beside them. One look at his stern face and flashing eyes and the stout Shepherd’s cudgel grasped in his strong, uplifted hand was more than enough for the bully. Craven Fear slunk away like a whipped cur, actually running from the village instead of toward it, not knowing where he was going, urged by one instinct alone, to find a place of safety.

      Much-Afraid burst into tears. Of course she ought to have know that Craven was a coward and that if only she had lifted her voice and called for the Shepherd, he would have fled at once. Now her dress was torn and disordered, and her arms bruised by the bully’s grip, yet that was the least part of her distress. She was overwhelmed with shame that she had so quickly acted like her old name and nature, which she had hoped was beginning to be changed already.

      It seemed so impossible to ignore the Fearings, still less to resist them. She did not dare look at the Shepherd, but had she done so she would have seen with what compassion he was regarding her. She did not realize that the Prince of Love is “of very tender compassions to them that are afraid.” She supposed that, like everybody else, he was despising her for her silly fears, so she muttered a shamed “thank you.”

      Then, still without looking at him, she limped painfully toward the village, weeping bitterly as she went and saying over and over again to herself, “What is the use of even thinking of going to the High Places? I could never reach them, for the least little thing is enough to turn me back.”

      However, when at last she reached the security of the cottage she began to feel better, and by the time she had drunk a cup of tea and taken her evening meal she had recovered so far that she was able to remind herself of all that had happened there beside the cascade and the pool. Suddenly she remembered, with a thrill of wonder and delight, that the seed of Love had been planted in her heart. As she thought of it, the same almost intolerable sweetness stole over her, the bittersweet, indefinable but wholly delightful ecstasy of a new happiness.

      “It is happy to love,” said little Much-Afraid to herself and then she repeated: “It is happy to love.” After putting the cottage in order for the night, because she was utterly tired out with all the conflicting emotions of that strange day, she went to bed. Lying there before falling asleep, she sang over and over again to herself another of the lovely songs from the old song book.

      O thou whom my soul loveth,

      Tell me where thou СКАЧАТЬ