A Message From God: 1937

GOD is love. Do we know that love? Do we enjoy that love? Do we all know that love? Let us say over and over again, God loves me — He saved me. God loves me — He has given the gift of the Holy Spirit. God loves me — He is my Saviour. God loves me — He is sending His Son again to receive me unto Himself. Let us spend each day in the enjoyment of the indescribable love of God.

Every flower not only blooms to die, but every flower dies to bloom — gives up something of its life to shine — to make the world brighter. Our lives are lenses through which the light of God shines upon the lives of men, through which the life of God divides itself into the world. Keep the lens clean and pure. Let us be pure in heart, who not only shall see God, but through whom God may be seen.

How Will He Find You?

THE Lord Jesus Christ is coming again one day. The Bible is full of promises and prophecies about this great event. Over nineteen hundred years ago the little band of disciples saw their Lord ascend into heaven, and while they looked up they were told by angels that, “This same Jesus which is taken up from you into heaven shall so come in like manner, as ye have seen Him go into heaven.” (Acts 1:9-11.) at once became a very blessed hope to them and to all the believers. They looked for Him to come at any time.

He is coming, and what a testing-time it will be for the whole world. Thousands will be

Found Scoffing.

A scoffer is one who makes sport of holy things, one who disbelieves what God has said. The Scripture clearly foretells this. Listen! “There shall come in the last days scoffers, walking after their own lusts, and saying―

‘Where is the promise of His coming? For since the fathers fell asleep all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation!’” (2 Peter 3:3-5.) The Scripture goes on to say of these scoffers, that they are “willingly ignorant” of God’s former judgments in the earth.

Read further on in the chapter (2 Peter 3). It is explained why the Lord Jesus delays His Coming: it is because of His great mercy towards sinners who are still rejecting Him. Think of this. “The Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.” How terrible if you were found scoffing.

We are certainly living in the “last days,” and many are the signs around us that the Coming of the Lord draws near. Read the words of our Master Himself in Mark 13:29-37. It was of His set purpose that no one should know the day or the hour of His Coming. Why? So that we might always be on the alert, always ready. “For the Son of Man is as a man taking a far journey, who left his house and gave authority to his servants, and to every man his work, and commanded the porter to watch.” “Watch ye therefore; for ye know not when the master of the house cometh, at even, or at midnight, or at the cock crowing, or in the morning; Lest coming suddenly He find you sleeping. And what I say unto you I say unto all, ‘Watch.’”

There is no doubt that when the Lord Jesus comes a great many will be

Found Sleeping.

To those who are sleeping in sin and ignorance, God’s Word cries: “Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.” (Eph. 5:14.)

Many are like Jonah, “fast asleep” in the great storm, and need to be awakened like he was. “What meanest thou, O sleeper? Arise, call upon thy God.” (Jonah 1:5-6.) Or like Peter in prison “Sleeping... bound with two chains” (Acts 12:6), with this great difference, Peter was in prison for Christ’s sake and so could sleep with an easy conscience, but the sinner is in Satan’s prison, and the two chains that bind him are sin and unbelief.

“Have I long in sin been sleeping?

Long been slighting, grieving Thee?

Has the world my heart been keeping?

Oh, forgive and waken me.”

In that parable referred to just now, notice further that the Master left “to every man his work.” The very uncertainty as to when our Lord may return makes us eager to be industrious and faithful, for we know He may come today.

How terrible if the servant should be

Found Shirking.

If the Lord should come and find us wasting time and money that belongs to Him, heedless of the work He would have had us do, what shame would be ours. Would the excuse be accepted if we said to Him, “I didn’t expect You to come yet.” (Luke 12:45.) The very thought would condemn us.

Shall we now look and see who will be ready to meet the Lord? The Word of God is very plain about it.

“Wherefore, beloved, seeing that ye look for such things, be diligent that ye may be FOUND OF HIM IN PEACE, WITHOUT SPOT AND BLAMELESS.” (2 Peter 3:14.)

This is what Paul meant when he spoke of his great desire to be

Found in Christ.

“That I may win Christ and be found in Him, not having mine own righteousness, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith.” (Phil. 3:9, 10.)

When Christ conies, all who are “found in Him” will be taken up to be with Him forever. Not one who is joined unto the Lord can be separated from Him then. How will He find you?

Two special blessings are spoken of in Luke 12:35-41. “Blessed are those servants” who shall be

Found Watching

for their Lord’s return.

If a friend wrote to you from a far country and said, “I am coming to see you some time, but cannot say when. Expect me to pay you a surprise visit,” shouldn’t you be very anxious to have everything in readiness? Every day you would be thinking, “Perhaps it will be today.” That is just what the Lord wants us to do, He wants us to expect Him and to long for His Coming.

Also He said, “Blessed is that servant whom his Lord when He cometh shall find so doing.” Doing what? Faithfully doing his appointed work.

Found Faithful.

“It is required in stewards, that a man be found faithful.” (1 Cor. 4:2.) How will He find you?

When the Lord comes and the midnight cry goes forth, “Behold, the Bridegroom cometh, go ye forth to meet Him,” it will be too late to get ready. Those who are ready will go in with Him to the marriage, and the door will he shut.

“And NOW, little children, abide IN HIM; that when He shall appear, we may have confidence and not be ashamed before Him AT HIS COMING. (1 John 2:28.)

E. S. Pinney.

Behold He Cometh.

IF you are a believer in the Lord Jesus you should lift up your head, because your redemption is drawing nigh. Yes, it is! Signs and happenings are daily pointing toward that blessed hour. If unsaved, beware! take warning! You may escape the coming judgment by believing and receiving the Lord Jesus Christ as your personal Saviour. Believe on Him this very moment, and thou shalt be saved. Those who believe on Him have the promise of everlasting life. (John 3:16.)

P. E. M.

"This is What I Want!"

GOD had awakened the conscience of a poor Hindoo, so he inquired of various Brahmins how he might make atonement to God for his sins. All agreed that it was by torturing his body that his guilt was to be expiated; and the mode recommended was:

“Thou must drive a number of iron spikes through thy sandals; and on these sandals thou must place thy naked feet, and walk to the sacred station, at the Godavery river (distant 480 miles). If, through loss of blood, or weakness of body, thou art unable to proceed, thou mayest halt and wait for healing and strength. When thou hast performed this, thou mayest hope that thy soul will be cleansed.”

The poor Hindu was in earnest to save his soul; and severe as the penance was, he did not hesitate, but immediately set out on his painful journey. At length he felt compelled to halt beneath a wide-spreading tree.

It happened that a Christian missionary was accustomed to take his stand beneath this very tree, and to proclaim the words of eternal life. The poor, foot-sore devotee had not been there long, before the missionary came to his wonted labor.

He cried aloud, “The blood of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, cleanseth from all sin.” He began to describe what sin was in the sight of God, and pressed guilt home; he showed the utter hopelessness of man’s saving by any self-imposed suffering; and pointed out God’s way of salvation through the blood-shedding of His Own well-beloved Son. These glad sounds fell upon the Hindu’s ears like rain on a thirsty soil. He drank in every word; and, at length, plucking off his sandals, sprang up and cried out, “This is what I want!” He gladly received the word, and believed it, and became a living witness that the blood of Jesus Christ does indeed cleanse from all sin.

“All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” (Rom. 3:23.)

“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” (1 Tim. 1:15.)

“Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world.” (John 1:29.)

A Last Warning

or “Just in Time.”

I ONCE spent the afternoon of the Lord’s Day in distributing gospel books and tracts among a number of miners in—. It was a lovely summer’s day, and the men were gathered in groups here and there, either sauntering slowly along, or sitting under the trees talking together and enjoying the pure air and the sunlight. The sunlight seemed a joy in itself to them, and the fresh air priceless after working all the week in the darkness and unwholesome atmosphere of the mine. I was well known among them and received many a hearty “Good-day,” or “God bless you,” as I passed in and out among them, now sitting down to read for a time with some, now speaking a few words as to their soul’s salvation with others, as I gave them the tittle silent messengers, which, all told the same tale, though by different pens and in different ways, of the Saviour’s love — the old, old story, so wonderful yet so divinely true, the story of that Saviour’s cross of shame, His death to win life for guilty, ruined man.

I had given away nearly all the large package of books I had brought out with me, and was returning slowly to my home. I had almost reached it — indeed, I was crossing the last field that separated me from my own garden gate — when met two young miners coming slowly toward me. I stopped as we were about to pass each other, and selecting two little books from the few that remained in my hand, 1 held out one to each and said:

“Will you accept and read this?”

Each took the book I held out and thanked me; and one, a fine, strong, healthy and handsome young man of about twenty-five or twenty-six, stood still and read out the title page of his, “Just in Time.”

A deep feeling of solemnity, amounting even to awe, crept over my soul, and looking up into his frank, open countenance, I said, “Yes, my friend, and God grant that you may be just in time for salvation, just in time for heaven.” Again I repeated it, “God grant that you may be just in time.”

He was a stranger to me, and I could not account for my sudden and deep interest in him. We had met for the first time that afternoon, and to look at him you would have said he had long years of life and health before him.

He did not sneer or scoff at my words, though he seemed surprised at a stranger thus so solemnly accosting him.

“Thank you,” he said quite earnestly, and we each passed on our way, I going home to ask the Lord of the harvest for His Own blessing on the seed sown by the wayside, that He would not allow it to be devoured by the fowls of the air, so ready to snatch it away. Even as I prayed, this young man’s face came before me again and again, till I cried, “Bless him, Lord; save him.” Little I thought how soon and under what circumstances we should meet again.

On the following Tuesday night, only two days later, I had just retired to my room for the night, and was about to extinguish my light, when a loud knocking at the street door made me throw up the window to see what was the matter, “Who is there?” I asked, seeing a young man standing at the door.

“Are you Mr.― was the answer.

“Yes.”

“Will you come at once and see a young man in E―

Street? He is dying and wants you.”

“Have you not made a mistake? I know no one in E― Street.”

No, sir; are you not the gentleman who gave a young man a book on Sunday afternoon, called Just in Time?”

“Yes, I am; what of it?”

“Please come at once,” he said, “and I will tell you going along.”

Hastily I dressed and went out into the summer’s night, guided by my companion. On our way towards E― Street, he told me that his mate had gone down the shaft that afternoon as usual, and had jumped out of the bucket ere it had reached the bottom; he had done it dozens of times before, and feared no danger, but this time, as he jumped, his foot slipped. The descent of the bucket closed an iron trap-door, thus making a firm foundation for the vessel to rest upon. Owing to his foot slipping, he was a moment too late to get clear of the iron door, and was caught by its closing, and crushed between it and the side of the shaft. His breast bones were broken in, and he was lying there, his friend said, in terrible agony, unable to speak, only just making a gurgling sound if he attempted it, and just gasping for breath, while his life seemed ebbing fast away.

By the time the young man had finished his story, adding many details which I need not relate to you now, we reached the cottage, and I entered. What a scene met my gaze! There lay the fine strong man, whom I had only seen two days before in the full vigor of health and youth, now absolutely helpless. The pallor of his face was ghastly, his eyes were almost starting from their sockets; feebly he gasped for breath, and over him hung his young wife, the wife of but one short week, with lips and cheeks almost as colorless as his own, in speechless, tearless agony.

He looked fixedly at me as I entered, and tried to speak; it was useless, no word would come.

“Shall I read with you and pray for you?” I said. He made a low hissing sound, the only approach to “Yes” he could make.

I read to him that “God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life”; and I spoke to him of the love of God in desiring his salvation, of the efficacy of the blood of Christ, to save him. I told him he was lost and ruined by nature, but that Jesus came to seek and to save the lost; that Jesus had been seeking him, wanted him; that having done the work by which sin could be put away out of God’s sight, He could now bring the sinner right into God’s presence. As simply as I could, I besought him to take his place as a sinner and trust Jesus as a Saviour; and then I knelt down and besought the God of grace to give him faith now to lay hold of Christ, ere it were too late; to give him the knowledge of the forgiveness of all his sins through that precious blood which cleanseth from all sin.

Even as I prayed, one after another of his mates came crowding into the little room, all full of rough sympathy, and many a coat sleeve was brushed across the eyes of the brave men to hide the tears that would rise unbidden at the sight of the strong man’s agony, and the young wife’s speechless woe.

The scene was too much for me, and for a few moments I went aside into the open air, lest I should break down entirely, for rarely, if ever, had I seen a sight so pitiful.

I had been but a few minutes out of the room when my name was called hurriedly, and I returned to the sick man’s side. As I entered the room his eyes rested on me entreatingly, with a look at once despairing and beseeching. Again I said, “Shall I read and pray?” and again came the painful effort on his part to speak, and then the low hissing sound of assent. I read to him this time the story of the father and the prodigal (Luke 15), and then I also read to him the prayers of the Pharisee and the publican, and repeated this one verse, “Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out.” And while strong men bowed and wept, I cried to God once more, to the living God, to save his soul now at the eleventh hour, and to give him the knowledge of pardon and peace and salvation through the blood of the Lamb.

As I finished, his face changed. The damp of death and the pallor of the grave were upon it, but hope lighted it — despair had fled. He signed for a drink and his wife held the glass of water to his lips while she raised his head gently to enable him to take it. He drank, a little, and then, to the amazement of all, he who had been unable to utter a sound beyond the low hissing noise so painful to listen to, said out in a clear, painless voice, and with eyes lifted up as though he saw the One to Whom he was speaking―

“Just in time! God be merciful to me a sinner, for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen!”

He had scarcely uttered the last word when his head fell back on the pillow, a little shivering sigh escaped him, and we were in the presence of the dead.

Never shall I forget the scene. To many a one present it was a warning word from the very gates of death, the brink of eternity, and God used it for blessing.

Reader, will not you take warning by it, lest for you, not “Just in time,” but “Too late,” be the terrible words that record your fate?

A Problem.

A YOUNG man, distinguished for his mathematical attainments, was fond of challenging his fellow-students to a trial of skill in solving difficult problems. One day a class-mate came into his study, and laying a folded paper before him, said: “There is a problem I wish you would help me to solve,” and immediately left the room. The paper was eagerly unfolded, and there, instead of a question in mathematics, were traced the lines, “What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul; or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?”

With a gesture of impatience, he tore the paper to atoms, and turned again to his books. But in vain he tried to shake off the impression of the solemn words he had read. The Holy Spirit pressed home his convictions of guilt and danger, so that he could find no peace, till he found it in believing in Jesus. He subsequently became a preacher of the Gospel he had once despised, and his first sermon was from the words, so eminently blessed to his own soul: “What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?”

"What is Jesus, the Son of God, to Me?"

“But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other Gospel unto you, than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed.” (Gal. 1:8.)

“Jesus Christ ... in whom we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins.” (Eph. 1:5, 7.)

ANOTHER month has gone into eternity. Will you, with me, face the solemn question, “What is Jesus, the Son of God, to you and to me?” I want you to share with me the joy of knowing Him, “Whom to know is life eternal.” In the Lord’s prayer to His Father (John 17:3) He says, “And this is life eternal, that they might know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ Whom Thou hast sent.” This is the foundation truth on which all salvation rests — the knowledge of the Father and the Son, through the teaching of the Holy Spirit. To destroy the truth of that heavenly Oneness (for Jesus said, “I and My Father are One”) has been the aim of Satan for nigh two thousand years. Today, the Modernist is preaching the denial of the Deity of Christ, and, inspired by Satan, is using all the logic of “seducing spirits” to weaken in the minds of men and women their belief in the Oneness of the Father and the Son. These men are not only taking away from themselves all their hopes of salvation, but are leading others in the same darkness of unbelief. Peter says clearly and distinctly in Acts 4:12, speaking of the Lord Jesus, “Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other Name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.” This truth in this verse I wholeheartedly believe — I stake my soul for all eternity upon it. It is the rock foundation, amid all the sandy wastes of error. Now I will tell you a little what Jesus the Son of God is to me.

He is my Saviour. He has saved me. He has redeemed me with His blood. “He has bought me with a price.” (1 Cor. 6:20.) I am His for time, and for eternity; His in life, and His in death; His here, and His hereafter. I was a prisoner, and condemned to death on account of my sins. He came, and wore my chains, and took my place — He bore the judgment of my many sins — yes, He died to set me free from sin. I was lost in the darkness of my guilt, “sitting in darkness, and the shadow of death,” and He sought and found me, and led me into paths of light and peace. I was unhappy, and ill at case, and He made me happy and cheered me with His Own words, “I have loved thee with an everlasting love; fear not, I have redeemed thee, thou art Mine.” Yes, He is my Saviour. Reader! He is willing to be your Saviour, willing to save you. Only those who have a Saviour can enter heaven, where the Saviour is. Have you this Saviour?

Jesus is my Friend. Yes, He was my Friend when. I was a sinner in my sins. He is called “the Friend... of sinners.” He is my eternal Friend now — One “that sticketh closer than a brother. “There is no friend on earth like Him. I have tried human hearts, and they have often failed me when most. I needed them; but His love remains unchanged and unchanging. He has said to me, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.” I know that for all eternity He will be my Friend. I have often been in sorrow, and my heart has been sad and sore with trials and temptations; and He has been my support. I have often been weary of the way, and longed for rest and home; and He has spoken to my soul of heaven and the rest to come. He has bidden me lean my head upon His loving breast, and I have felt the Everlasting Arms around me then. Reader, is He your Friend? Come with me and gaze on Jesus now. See Him ‘mid the glory of heaven! He is there because He has put away sin; He is there to receive the sinner for whom He died. Gaze upon Him! Believe on Him! Come to Him. “He is the chiefest among ten thousand, the altogether lovely.” Is He beautiful to you? Is He dearer than the ones you love best on earth? Can you single Him out from all others, and seat Him on the highest throne in your heart, and say to one and all, “This is my Beloved, and this is my Friend”? God grant that the sinners’ Friend may be your Friend now. It is a glorious truth that enables me to speak of my Saviour as my Friend.

Jesus is my Light. How dark the world would be without Him! How could I find my way did He not shine upon me? When I sat in darkness the Light shone round about me. It showed me myself, and it showed me my Saviour.

There are false lights. As the wreckers in days gone by used to light their cruel, false lights along the cliffs on the stormy night to allure the unconscious mariners to destruction, so Satan has his beacon lights that shine upon the cliffs of time.

There is the light of good works, that shines with alluring beam; and many a poor sinner has been lost, lured on to eternal shipwreck by its fake guidance. There is the light of forms and ceremonies, a light that dances ‘mid the foam of the waves off spiritual death, that flashes, but to lead to destruction. One day all these false lights will be quenched, and only the clear shining of the true Light will be left. Christ, the Light of Heaven, will glorify eternity; and the children of the Light will be with Him there. Oh! what of you? Do you love darkness better than light? God forbid! Jesus is the Light. Jesus alone can save You, and enlighten your darkness.

Jesus is my All in All. He is the consummation of all joy: the climax of all peace, the everlasting Amen to all the blessedness of Heaven. He is All in All to the Christian. We shall see Him, and shall be like Him. We lose ourselves in Christ. “Our life is hid with Christ in God.” There is nothing beyond Christ. The Christian’s eternity is Christ. All the apostle could say of the future was, “To depart and to be with Christ”; and again, “Absent from the body, at home with the Lord.” The Christian looks to the end of life’s journey, and He sees Jesus. God opens the gates of praise and lets out the melody of heaven; and it is “Unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in His Own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God and His Father; to Him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.” Yes, it is nothing but Christ, the beginning and end of all the praise in heaven. God opens the flood-gates of divine love, and the river flows, widening and deepening in an eternity of rapture. “Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God.” O reader, what is to be the end and purpose of your life? Will you believe this glorious gospel, that makes everything of Christ, and nothing of you apart from Christ?

Ask yourself, my reader, the question now, “What is Jesus, the Son of God, to me?”

Oh! glorious gospel, that speaks of eternal happiness; that is eloquent of the love of God; that tells of the sufferings of the Son of God, the Saviour; that speaks of the presence and power of the Holy Ghost! Oh, glorious gospel, that points to a risen, ascended and glorified Christ; that is radiant with the promises of God, and beautified by the invitations of Christ!

Dear friend, one solemn text in closing, to show you the doom that will come to you if you follow the Modernist in his contempt of the only and all-sufficient Saviour: “If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maranatha (accursed at the Lord’s coming).” (1 Cor. 16:22.)

I leave you facing these solemn words — leave you sang to your heart, I trust, “What is the Lord Jesus Christ to me?”

Heyman Wreford.

Jesus.

“His Name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the Mighty God the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9:6.)

OH! Wonderful, beloved Son of God

Before all time, the Co-Eternal Son.

Who willingly did’st lay Thy glory by,

That God the Father’s perfect will be done.

I lay my heart, an offering at Thy feet,

Whose heart was pierced for me. O love complete.

Oh! Counselor, the Wisdom from on high,

Whose pure and peaceful arguments destroy

The wisdom of mankind; oh! living Word

That bringest life to men, and hope, and joy.

I cast my little learning in the dust,

To learn of Thee, and in Thy wisdom trust.

Oh! Mighty God, the blessed Three in One,

The unapproachable, enthroned in light,

Great Potentate, Who finest all in all,

Invisible, immortal, God of Might.

How can a mortal lift an eye to Thee,

Thou that inhabitest Eternity?

Oh! Everlasting Father, Name sublime,

That wraps in hallowed mystery, Bethlehem.

Thou, Who so loy dst the world, that

Thou did’st give Thy only Son, to live — and die for men.

I bow in awe, before Thy cradled Son

With Thee, the Father, and the Spirit — One,

Oh! Prince of Peace, oh! Jesus Christ my Lord.

Hope of a dying world, with sorrow rife;

Healer and Comforter, the faithful Friend,

Light of the lonely, Source and Fount of life,

Beneath Thy rule, earth’s age long strife shall cease.

Come! reign in righteousness, Thou Prince of Peace.

— F. Wiles.

A Wonderful Visitor.

A Dream.

AFTER a very busy day I experienced a delightful feeling of restfulness, as I settled myself in a comfortable armchair, after having said “Goodnight” to my children. Just before going, they had sung their evening hymn. As their sweet childish voices had joined with that of their mother’s, one verse had made an impression on my mind. I was familiar with it, but it came to me with a new-beauty and force; it was:

“Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word,

But as Thou dwell’st with Thy disciples, Lord:

Familiar, condescending, patient, free,

Come not to sojourn, BUT ABIDE WITH ME.”

My wife went away with the little ones to see them into bed, and I was left alone with the verse of the hymn repeating itself in my memory, and the thought came to me: “Suppose He were to come as He came to His disciples, am I altogether prepared to receive Him into my house, to abide with me? “And as I meditated on the subject, I fell asleep, and dreamed, and lo! the door of the room opened, and in walked One, Whom I knew at once to be the Christ. Not the glorified Redeemer, as seen by John in the Isle of Patmos. No! He had answered the prayer of our hymn, and had come in humble, human form,

“Familiar, condescending, patient, free.”

I knelt before Him, but He laid His Hand on me, and said, “Arise, for I have come to tarry with thee.”

My recollection of my dream here grows somewhat confused, but, I remember this, that when the next morning seemed to have arrived, and I was gathering my children around me, and telling them that Jesus had come to stay with us in the house, the little ones clapped their hands for joy, and my dear wife’s face beamed with a rapture that seemed to transfigure her.

Just then the Lord Himself entered the room, and we took our seats around the breakfast table. What language can I use to describe the wondrous peace which filled all our souls, or how our hearts burned within us as He talked with us?

But when the meal was over, and we had had family worship, which to us that day was truly a foretaste of heaven itself, I was filled with perplexity. What should I do with my strange Visitor? It seemed disrespectful to leave Him behind me at home, yet it would mean serious loss to me, to stay away from my place of business that day; but I could not take Him with me; that was certain. Who ever heard of taking Christ to a counting house? The Saviour surely knew my thoughts, for He said, “I will go with thee. How didst thou ask Me? was it not,

‘Come NOT to sojourn, but ABIDE with me?’

So whatever thou art doing henceforth, I will be with thee. ‘Lo! I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.’”

It seemed rather strange to me, but I could not, of course, question what He said, so I dreamed that I started for the office with the dear Lord by my side. At my counting house I found a man awaiting my coming with a good deal of impatience. He was a stock and share broker who transacted a considerable business for me. To tell the truth, I was not greatly pleased to see him there, as I was afraid he would bring forward matters which I would scarcely feel inclined to go into with Jesus listening to our conversation. It was as I feared. He had come to tell me of a transaction he had arranged, which, while perfectly honorable according to the usual code of morals of the share market, meant the saving of myself from the fear of loss, by placing another person in the danger of it. He laid the whole scheme before me, without taking the slightest notice of the Lord: I know not if he even saw Him. I cannot tell the bitter shame I felt. I saw how impossible it was to square such a transaction with the golden rule, but I could not hide from myself the fact that the broker told me of it with a manner and tone that meant that he had no doubt whatever that I would applaud him for his cleverness, and eagerly close with the offer. What must that mean to the Christ? Would it not tell Him that I was in the habit of dealing with one thought only in my mind, how could I benefit myself? The broker was astonished when I rejected his proposals on the ground that they would be prejudicial to the interest of the other party in the transaction and left me abruptly, apparently thinking I had developed a mild species of insanity. Humbled, I fell at my Saviour’s feet, and cried to Him for forgiveness for past sinfulness, and for strength for time to come.

“My child,” said He, in tender accents, “thou speakest as if My presence were something strange to thee. But I have always been with thee. I have seen, and have seen with grief, the way thou hast dealt with thy fellows in business, and marveled at thy unbelief of My promise that I would be ever with thee. Have I not said to My servants, ‘Abide in Me, and I in you’?”

Just as He had said these words another gentleman entered the office. He was a customer I could not afford to offend, and I had uniformly shown a cordiality to him which I was far from feeling in my heart. He was vulgar, profane, and often obscene in his talk. He had not been many minutes in my office, before he made use of an expression which brought a hot flush to my cheek. I had heard him speak in a similar way before, and although I felt repelled by it, had, for fear of offending him, met it with faint laughter. But now, I felt as I should have had it been uttered in the presence of a lady, only this feeling was intensified by the realization of the absolute purity of the Divine One Who had been a Hearer of the speech. I gave expression to my feelings in a word of expostulation, and he exclaimed, “You seem to have grown very prudish,” and left me in a rage.

Again I turned to the Christ with a cry for pardon, and again I had brought to me the thought that, though unseen by me, the Lord had beheld all my former intercourse with this man. I was now called into the adjoining office where my clerks were employed, and found that one of them had made a foolish blunder, which would mean a considerable complication, and perhaps loss. I am naturally irritable, and at once lost my temper, and spoke to the delinquent in unmeasured terms. Turning my head, I found that Jesus had followed me out of my private office, and was standing close beside me. Again I was humbled, and had to cry for mercy.

Opening my letters, I found that difficulties had arisen of a very serious nature to me. I seemed suddenly hemmed in, and unless help came in a few hours, loss and even ruin threatened me. From what quarter the aid would come, I knew not, but I just took the letter containing the news, and laid it on the table before the Master, and said, “Lord, if Thou hadst not been here my heart would have been overwhelmed; but now I can with confidence and joy leave all in Thy Hands.” Then He replied, “Oh, thou of little faith. Because thou hast seen Me, thou hast believed. Blessed are they that have not seen and yet have believed.” Yet, though He rebuked me for my want of faith, He showed me how the difficulty was to be met, and put a new song of gratitude into my mouth.

Through all that strange day, similar incidents to these occurred, and the Presence of the Master, which I thought would have been a joy, was a rebuke to me. It showed me, as I had never dreamed before, that I had framed my life on the supposition that He had but little to do with it.

But, on the other hand, there were times during the day, when my soul was filled with rapture; times when He smiled on me in loving approval, or when He spoke words of pardon and absolution, or when He opened out before my wondering gaze some fresh beauty of His character and Person.

I awoke, and lo! it was a dream. But the dream has made me ask myself this question as I never did before, “Must not our realization of the Presence of the Saviour be very poor, for it to exercise so small an influence on our lives? Do not we contradict by our daily conduct what we often assert — that Christ is “abiding in us”? And the words spoken by Jesus when on earth, and which He had seemed to repeat in my vision, came to me with a new and intense meaning. “Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.”

(From “The Little Gleaner.”)

The Sceptic's Challenge.

OVER the heads of the crowd the confident cry rang out, “There is no answer to prayer; it’s all imagination. Don’t be carried away. Use your own common sense. There is no hereafter. When we are dead, we are done for.”

The speaker was standing at the foot of a monolith erected in an open space of a busy Yorkshire city. He had an excellent gilt of speech and a winning manner. A large crowd of men and women stood round listening. In a wonder fully ingratiating way and a persuasive voice, he tried to prove the non-existence of God, and the inefficiency of prayer, concluding with a professed readiness to debate the question with any person in the audience. At this juncture a man was seen making his way from the edge of the crowd towards the speaker, saying at the same time. “I accept the challenge.” The people eagerly made way for this champion of prayer, and in a very few moments he was standing on the step of the monolith facing the crowd. He was tall, thin, pale-faced and well dressed. But he was no orator; he had no set phrases to tickle the ear; he had not the winning, catchy demeanour of his opponent. For a moment or two he stood looking at the sea of faces before him, faces waiting with eager expectancy for him to open the debate. A flush of color came into his features, and the sweat stood in beads on his brow, “Friends, I am not a public speaker,” he said, “did not come to this meeting with the intention of disputing anything our friend might say, but when he denied that there was any efficacy in prayer, and challenged anyone to prove the contrary, I felt bound to come forward.” The crowd cheered the frank yet modest statement. He went on again: “You see standing before you a man who was once as big a scoundrel as it was possible to find in the city. I was a drunkard, a gambler, a wife-beater; yes! everything the word ‘brute’ implies. My wife and child dreaded the sound of my footsteps, and yet, bad as I was, unknown to me, my wife had for years been praying for me; and she taught my child to pray.” He paused a moment, as if overcome with sadness at the memory, and then continued: “One night I went home unexpectedly, rather earlier than usual; and, by accident, sober. When I opened the door, my wife had just gone up the stairs to put the little one to bed. I stood listening at the foot of the stairs; my child was praying, she was praying for me. Dear Lord, save my dear Daddy! Save my dear Daddy Lord! Dear Lord Jesus, save my Daddy!” And as she prayed in her simple childlike way, I heard my wife saying, with a sob in her throat, ‘Lord Jesus, answer prayer.’ They did not know I was listening. I crept softly out of the house into the street. Strange feelings were coming over me, and ringing in my ears was my child’s prayer: ‘Dear Lord Jesus, save my dear Daddy!’ Was I indeed clear to that child? In what way? She had never known a father’s love; I question whether she had ever known a father’s kiss. And as I thought of it, a great lump came into my throat; tears filled my eyes, and I cried aloud, ‘Lord, help me; Lord, answer my child’s prayer.’ AND HE DID.

“Years have passed away since then. Today I am a respected member of society. The past is under the blood. I live in the present, a new creature in Christ Jesus, a living testimony to direct answer to prayer.” Again he paused, and then said earnestly: “Friends, don’t you think I should have been a coward if I had kept silent today? Can I do other than believe there is a God, and that He not only hears, but answers prayer?”

The skeptic made no reply. For this man’s story had moved the crowd to tears, and when he had finished speaking the people went silently and reverently away.

Selected.

The Recompense.

IF all my years were summer, could I know

What my Lord means by His “made white as snow?”

If all my days were sunny, could I say

“In His fair land He wipes all tears away”?

If I were never weary could I keep

Close to my heart, “He gives His loved ones sleep”?

Were no griefs mine, might I not come to deem

The joy eternal but a baseless dream?

My winter, and my tears, and weariness,

Even my griefs, may be His way to bless,

I call them ills, yet that can surely be

Nothing but love that shows my Lord to me.

―Amen.

Priceless Scriptures.

AN infidel publisher sent a young man a packet of agnostic literature. The young man replied, returning the literature, as follows: “Dear Sir, — If you have anything better than the Sermon on the Mount; the Parable of the Prodigal Son; and that of the Good Samaritan; or if you have any code of morals better than the Ten Commandments; or anything more consoling and beautiful than the Twenty-third Psalm; or on the whole, anything that will throw more light on the future, and reveal to me a Father more merciful and kind than the New Testament — send it along.” He has not received anything more from the infidel.

The Curse of Spiritism.

MEN and women are conversing with demons day by day. The thin veil that has hidden the seen from the unseen has been rent, and the demons are coming through. As angels of light, they are taking possession of the souls and bodies of their human victims — they are deceiving some of the very elect. Some of the strongest intellects are bowing to their seductive reasonings. They give utterance to exalted ideas, they speak even with the assumed voices of the saints of God. Spurgeon has been made to say, according to them, that all his preaching was wrong, and they make him declare that if he could come back and preach again, he would never repeat all that he had said about sin and its punishment, about heaven and hell, etc. I hope, if the Lord will, to speak more of this another time; but as it was in the days of the Son of Man, so it is today — millions of evil spirits roam the world. They take possession of the living and they personate the dead. The Gadarene demoniac had a legion of demons in him. No wonder the world is filled with such terrible crimes today; no wonder people stand aghast at the long roll of murders, and suicides, and every conceivable sin; men and women, devil-possessed, are led captive by the devil at his will. Spiritism in every form is absolutely and entirely of the devil. It is that which is responsible for the increase of sin and evil everywhere. The devil knows far more about men and women than even their clearest friends know. The poor dupes of demons today are amazed at the intimate knowledge that comes to them from “beyond the veil,” as they call it, about their departed ones — the father and the mother weep to hear the so-called voices of their children — and husbands and wives are “comforted” at the messages from the spirit world. Every voice that comes from beyond at these seances, etc., is the voice of a demon — every intimate revelation made to you that you supposed no one could know but you and your loved one gone from you, is the giving out of what the demons know of the lives of men and women. Oh! beware! beware! the powers of darkness are hunting for the souls of men and women all over the earth. They invade your home — they are in possession of all your history; you open the door of your “being” to them and they flock in, and become your invited guests — your heart is devil-possessed. They sway your intellect — they contaminate your soul — hence “Modernism” in its thousand forms of unbelief today. You are led captive by the devil at his will―he may lead you to the divorce court, or the asylum, or the gambling hell, or to commit a burglary, or a murder, or to commit suicide. Unless God delivers you, and He is the only One who can, they will land you, after a life of delusion, into the awful realities of hell. Oh, beware! beware! the devil pats men on the back and they become one of the devil’s great men — they promulgate the theories of hell in books, as scientists, and novelists, and clergymen and others are doing today.

The Dying Spiritualist.

I knew the daughter of a spiritualist. She was a patient of mine, and often used to speak to me about her father. He had been a clergyman, then a Baptist, finally a Spiritualist. She said the house when he was dying was haunted by demons. She told me that when any of his Spiritualist friends came to visit him, every bell in the house used to ring, and she said it used to terrify her to see the bell at the head of her dying father’s bed begin to swing, and then to give out its loud pealing. It was like the devils sounding the dirge of a lost soul.

A Man With Two Demons.

A man came to my consulting room once; he told me he was a spiritualist. After I had examined him and prescribed for him, he told me he had two spirits who always came at his call. One gave five taps on his chest, and the other three, to tell of their coming. Seeing my incredulity, he said, “I will call one of them now.” On my table was a tumbler for water. Suddenly the tumbler rang out a musical note three times as if someone had struck it (no one had touched it). He said, “The spirit has come.” I was glad when he left, for I could see the devil looking at me through his eyes.

I can say no more now, but solemnly to implore you, my reader, to cry to God earnestly to be delivered out of Satan’s hands if you have willingly put yourself in them. None can deliver you but the Son of God, the Saviour of the worm, Whose mission was “through death to destroy him that had the power of death, that is the devil, and deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.”

A Word to Christians.

Oh, Christian! guard the gateways of your soul against the devil and all his hosts. Be watchful, be armed. (Eph. 6) “Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.” Interpose the shield of faith between you and the enemy. This will quench all his “fiery darts,” and save you from the effects of the bombardments of hell, Satan’s ammunition being doubts and fears assailing the heart, impure thoughts and questions about God and Christ — seeking to destroy your faith in the Father and the Son. Hold in your hand the flaming sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. It will point every way and rout the enemy. “Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” And, oh! Christian, pray! Go on your knees if you feel the power of Satan overcoming you. “Pray in the Spirit.” “Pray without ceasing.” “Watch and pray, lest ye enter into temptation.” You will never be defeated if you pray in the Sprit. The devil cannot defeat the warrior of God upon his knees. There, faith wins her greatest triumphs and learns her songs of victory. Then “fight the good fight of faith.” Remember Satan is a beaten foe. Calvary was the place of his overthrow. He was there trampled under the pierced feet of the Son of God. “It is finished,” signed his death warrant and put the wreath of final victory on the brows of all who trust in the Saviour of the world.

“He Satan’s power laid low,

Made sin, He sin o’er threw;

Bowed to the grave destroyed it so,

And death by dying slew.”

Thank God for the coming glorious days, when the earth will be swept clear of all the demons that possess it now. When “all taint of sin shall be removed, all evil done away.” “When the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where the beast and the false prophet are, and shall be tormented day and night forever and ever.” (Rev. 20:10.) Heyman Wreford.

A Dark Sea Tragedy, and Its Double Warning.

FEW, if any, tales of the sea can compare with this in its grim, haunting horror. For herein we see intolerant pride utilizing its position to vent its power upon a helpless victim, whose only crime is that he has dared to utter a word of warning against impending danger. How swiftly follows the Nemesis of retributive justice, as one pictures the fateful scene. The sudden ominous cry of “Breakers close ahead!” The shout of hurried orders given too late to avert the imminent disaster! The panic-stricken ship’s company with that ghastly omen of guilt and doom hanging before their eyes at the yard-arm! Then the crashing upon the merciless rocks beneath, mingled with the roar of the gale and the breaking seas above, as these souls are hurried into eternity! Yet what a soul-searching scene to the one who is taking sides with those who hung the Saviour — Who came to warn and save sinners — upon Calvary’s tree. How this tragedy must speak to his conscience, as, in spite of every warning, he knowingly hastens towards the doom of a lost eternity! For inescapably true is the Divine sentence upon such a one: “Be sure your sin will find you out.” (Num. 32:23).

In the month of October, 1707, was enacted on board H.M.S. Association — the flagship of Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovel — one of the saddest scenes in history. The crew were then assembled for the execution of one of their number. The condemned man had made an unusual request, in compliance with which he was permitted to read aloud to his shipmates before he died a Psalm of his own choosing.

The occasion was sorrowful and solemn

enough in itself, and the passage chosen was awful in its appropriateness. As the verses of the 109th Psalm were read out by lips so soon to be silent in death, a shudder must have run through the company. For the Psalm (which is prophetic of Judas) speaks of those who reward evil for good, and hatred for love — who remember not to show mercy, but persecute the poor and needy man, and slay the broken in heart — and such a victim of men’s cruelty now stood before them.

This is the story: — The admiral, coming home from the siege of Toulon in his flagship, the Association, with other twenty vessels (fifteen of them line of battleships), had left Gibraltar on the 10th of October. On the afternoon of the 22nd, the weather being both foggy and squally, one of the seamen on board told the officer of the watch that he feared that, unless the ship’s course were altered, she would soon be on the rocks of Scilly. Hearing of this, the admiral sent for the man and questioned him. Finding that he held fast to his opinion, Sir Cloudesley became so angry — deeming that a slight had been put upon one of his officers — that (appalling as it seems) he ordered the man

to be hanged at the yard-arm.

It was then that the poor fellow asked permission to read a Psalm, and we can but hope that he had been enabled to trust in the merits and atonement of the only perfect and innocent Victim Who has suffered in the world, on Whom was laid the iniquity of us all. Then, indeed, he would be able to put his heart into the closing words of his chosen Scripture: “I will greatly praise the Lord with my mouth; yea, I will praise Him among the multitude. For He shall stand at the right hand of the poor, to save him from those that condemn his soul.”

After the Psalm was read, the cruel sentence was carried out. But while the body of the poor fellow was still hanging from the yard-arm, the doom of which he had given warning overtook the ship. She struck a rock and went to pieces, and of her eight hundred men, one alone survived. Of the admiral himself, we read that he was washed ashore with his life still in him, but was murdered on account of the emerald ring which he wore, by a woman who confessed to the crime as she lay dying, thirty years later. Nor is

the tale of disaster yet complete,

for three other ships — the Eagle, the Romney and the Firebrand, following in the Association’s wake, struck another reef; and that night more than two thousand British seamen perished.

As we read this story we marvel, not only at the wickedness, but also at the folly, of the admiral, yet is it not his power to follow the impulse of his passions — rather than the passions themselves — which causes him to stand out as the subject of peculiar reprobation? At the root of his crime, surely, was the sin of pride. He resented the warning which seems to imply that a humble seaman knew better than himself and his officers; and pride — stirring up rage — led him to commit a crime which one in a lowlier position could not have committed with impunity. But God’s Word teaches us that whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer, and that Cain slew his brother because his own works were evil and his brother’s righteous. Does not this bring our inquiry nearer home? A humble believer in the Lord Jesus Christ sees a godless companion treading the downward path, and — prayerfully screwing up all his courage — ventures to utter a word of warning. Or perhaps during a mission a worker puts the question, “Are you saved?”; or it may be that a tract is offered; or, in worldly company some young soul by his or her very silence warns the profane. Why do such warnings, offered in faithful love, evoke resentment and hatred? Is it pride? Is it unbelief in

the reality of judgment ahead?

Is it the hatred of Cain, who slew his brother because his works were evil and his brother’s righteous?

If any reader has been faithfully warned concerning the danger of sin, and the need of cleansing in the precious blood of Christ, and feels anger and pride rising in his breast against the messenger, will he not now consider the plea of Naaman’s servants? When Elisha’s messenger said to that proud, great soldier, who yet was a leper, “Go, wash in Jordan seven times and thou shalt be clean,” he was wroth and said, “Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? May I not wash in them and be clean? “So he turned and went away in a rage. Then, lovingly his servants pleaded: “My father, if the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldest thou not have done it? How much rather, then, when he saith to thee, Wash and be clean. Then went he down, and dipped himself seven times in Jordan: and his flesh came again like unto the flesh of a little child, and he was clean.”

(H. Ramsay, in The Dawn.)

Faith Not Feeling.

(John 6:47.)

REMEMBER that it is one thing to be saved, and quite another to feel it, The one may exist without the other; and there are no doubt very many children of God, who have never had the sweet assurance of salvation, which is the seal of the Spirit. Directly you look to Jesus, you are saved, whether you feel it or not. Don’t think about your feeling; don’t think about your faith; look to Jesus; and reckon that God will keep His word. — F. B. Meyer.

Wait Patiently for Him.

GOD doth not bid thee wait

To disappoint at last;

A golden promise, fair and great

In precept mold is cast.

Soon shall the morning gild

The dark horizon rim,

Thy heart’s desire shall he fulfilled

“WAIT patiently for Him.”

The weary waiting times

Are but the muffled peals,

Low preluding celestial chimes

That hail His chariot wheels.

Trust Him to tune thy voice

To blend with Seraphim;

His “Wait” shall issue in “Rejoice!”

“Wait PATIENTLY for Him.”

He doth not bid thee wait

Like driftwood on the wave,

For fickle chance or fixed fate

To ruin or to save.

Thine eyes shall surely see —

No distant hope or dim —

The Lord thy God arise for thee:

“Wait patiently FOR HIM.”

Frances Ridley Havergal.

“A second time without sins will He appear for the life of them who expect Him.” (Heb. 9:28 (Syriaca).)

“Expecting and earnestly desiring the coming of the day of God.” (2 Pet. 3:12 (Syriaca).)

His Chosen Path for Thee.

HE chose this path for thee:

No feeble chance, nor hard, relentless fate,

But love, His love, hath placed thy footsteps here.

He knew the way was rough and desolate,

Knew how the heart would often sink with fear:

Yet tenderly He whispered: “Child, I see

This path is best for thee.”

He chose this path for thee:

Though well He knew sharp thorns would tear thy feet.

Knew how the troubles would obstruct the way,

Knew all the hidden dangers thou wouldst meet,

Knew how thy faith would falter day by day:

And still the whisper echoed, “Yes, I see

This path is best for thee.”

He chose this path for thee:

Even while He knew the fearful midnight gloom

Thy timid, shrinking soul must travel through;

How towering rocks would oft before thee loom,

And phantoms grim would meet thy frightened view;

Still comes the whisper, “My beloved, I see

This path is best for thee.”

— Selected.

Easter.

“When the morning was now come, Jesus stood on the shore.” — John 21:4.

GLORY of morn: and the darkness of death o’er past.

Fulfillment of joy: and hope, that hath anchored fast

In a sea of love: and faith, that is sight at last.

And the sailor safe in his haven ever more:

And the Vision that none may see till night is o’er

Of One transfigured, Who waiteth upon the shore.

G.W.

Treasures of Darkness and Songs in the Night.

“I will give thee the treasures of darkness.” — Isa. 45:3.

“In the night His song shall be with me.” — Psa. 42:8.

“Songs in the night.” — Job 35:10.

TREASURES of darkness, like songs in the night, are words filled with deep and wonderful meaning for some of God’s children. They are His Own precious promises fulfilled to each one of His children whenever they are ready to receive them. For in the darkness of sore trial, suffering and sorrow, however it comes to us who long to love and serve Him fully, He gives unimagined treasures, and songs in our hearts, to compensate in abundant measure for what seems to be a dark night of sorrow and weariness.

If it might be that we could lift the veil that hides some of the deepest treasures, some of the loveliest songs, what would be revealed?

Yet some treasures can only be kept in one’s innermost heart, secrets of joy shared with Him Who delights to give us all things richly to enjoy. But would it not be well for each one of us to be ready to receive the treasures of darkness, and to hear the songs in the night? May the writer be permitted to reveal some of her treasures?

My father, so unselfish and brave, was failing in health. There was the possibility that it might be a dreaded painful disease, and that the operation to be faced might only give temporary relief.

If “the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts,” as a poet has written, surely the thoughts of sufferers stretched on beds of pain for many years can be longer and deeper; and when they face the prospect of sore pain for a loved one, of separation, of many difficulties known only to our loving Father, then only He can know the depths of anguish — only He can know the fierce assaults of the enemy of souls — only He can give the treasures of darkness and songs in the night.

Lying one evening in the silence, with the clear vision that suffering often brings, the uphill way and the sore trials ahead of us, seemed to press in overwhelming heaviness upon me. The enemy came in like a flood, but the Spirit of the Lord conquered, for, in “quietness and confidence,” all was committed to Him, and in that quiet time of communion, as the darkness gathered, the dread of the future and the flood of fears which the enemy tried to pour upon my heart, all vanished, and the Lord gave His peace, a precious treasure of darkness, and like a song in the night came, “I will trust and not be afraid,” for “the Lord is my strength and my song.”

All through that year of terrible suffering for the loved one so radiantly brave, the loving — kindness and abundant tenderness of the Lord were proved again and again; and even though the widened borders could not be enjoyed so fully nor so often as during the previous year, because of more physical weakness, yet the treasures of darkness have been countless.

When the brave sufferer went Home to Jesus so gladly and the dear one who had tended us faithfully for many years had to be away and go into hospital — the frail little Mother, so brave and splendid, looked more frail, so that it seemed as if the waves and billows must overwhelm, yet the treasures and the songs did not fail in that darkness and night of trial. How could it be otherwise? For God, even our God, is faithful, and in the trial and temptation He will strengthen and uphold, and never suffer us to be tried beyond our endurance.

His treasure and song came beautifully bright, clear, and sure: “I am with you all the days.” “What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.” And so we are brought through, with Him, and by Him, Whose love endures forever.

When nerves are strained, and mind and body are weary beyond words — when sleep fails and pain is insistent — when every unexpected sound jars one to the depths, and the hours of darkness drag interminably — how good it is to know that “He gives His angels charge of those who sleep, but He Himself watches with those who wake,” and to feel the steadfastness of His peace, and the enfolding strength and tenderness of the Everlasting Arms. Are not these rich treasures of darkness for His Own?

And still the enemy comes with his piercing shafts. What does the future hold? Perhaps to be left helpless and suffering, motherless as well as fatherless; knowing the sorrow of the failing of human love and friendship; of promises of kindly help and sympathy. But in the darkness of these assaults, the enemy can be vanquished by this song in the night: “When my father and my mother forsake me, (or have to leave me), then the Lord will gather me.” And the tender comfort of that assurance is treasure indeed.

Home and friends and tenderest ties may be withheld or removed from us, but, like the sound of a lovely song, comes the promise: “In my Father’s House are many mansions (many rooms)... I go to prepare a place for you ... .that where I am there ye may be also.”

Those we love and who love us — those who help us, and whom we are privileged to help in varying ways — those who are to us as a “tower of strength,” and without whom it would seem that the light and joy of life would disappear, may have to be taken from us in some way, and in anguish of spirit, and with tear-dimmed eyes we ask, “Why, O Father, may not this be spared us?” Yet in serene trust we can look unto Him and say, “Thou remainest.”

Then, like a radiant treasure in darkness, and a sweet, soft song in the night, we hear, “Whom the Lord loveth lie chasteneth,” — “I will never leave thee nor forsake thee,” and we are strengthened to go on with quiet courage.

The darkness of sin, and the night of sorrow and suffering all around us in the world, may fill us with sadness, but it should also fill us with a deep desire and steadfast purpose that by God’s grace and power we will be used by Him to lead souls to Christ, Who alone can save and keep. Those He died to save are needing Him and the power of His salvation, even if they are not conscious of their need, and He is longing to scatter their darkness with His light — the light of the Dayspring from on high, Who, by the tender mercy of our God, has come to us.

The frailty and foolishness of our own hearts, the fierceness and subtlety of temptation in our own lives, should give us tender understanding and loving sympathy with the tried, the tempted, and the sinning, and a deep yearning that all may be saved by Him, “In Whom we have redemption by His blood, even the forgiveness of sins,” so that at that glad day, when there shall be no night, and the darkness of sin and sorrow shall end, we shall all join in the new song the song of the redeemed in the land of light, where “His servants shall serve Him.”

“To him that overcometh” will be given treasures beyond the darkness of earth, more radiant than all the light and beauty of earth — “an inheritance incorruptible, and that fadeth not away.”

And unto Him shall be all glory and praise.

Mabel Jeeves.

The Lost Sheep Found.

A True Story.

AN esteemed servant of Christ, having once been asked to see a poor boy who was dying in some wild district in Ireland, narrated the following account of his visit.

He says: After upwards of an hour’s toilsome walking (for the roads, which in some place led over steep hills, places led over steep hills, were in others scarcely passable on account of the heavy marshes), on entering the miserable hover, I looked round me, and at first found no sign of any inhabitant, except an old woman who sat crouching over the embers of a peat fire. She rose as I entered, and, with the natural courtesy of the Irish poor, offered me the low chair, or rather stool, on which she had been seated. I thanked her, and passing on to the object of my visit, discovered in one corner of the hut a heap of straw, on which lay the poor sufferer. Some scanty covering, probably his own wearing apparel, had been thrown over him; but as to bed or bed-clothes, there was none discernible in this miserable dwelling. I approached, and saw a young lad about 17 or 18 years of age evidently in a state of extreme suffering and exhaustion, and it was to be feared in the last stage of consumption. His eyes were closed, but he opened them on my approach, and stared at me with a kind of wild wonder, like a frightened animal. I told him as quietly as possible who I was, and for what purpose I had come, and put a few of the simplest questions to him respecting his hope of salvation. He answered nothing, he appeared totally unconscious of my meaning. On pressing him further, and speaking to him kindly and affectionately, he looked up, and I ascertained from the few words he uttered that he had heard something of a God and future judgment, but he had never been taught to read. The Holy Scriptures were a sealed Book to him, and he was, consequently, altogether ignorant of the way of salvation as revealed to us in the Gospel. His mind on this subject was truly an utter blank.

I was struck with dismay, and almost with despair. Here was a fellow creature, whose immortal soul, apparently on the verge of eternity, must be saved or lost forever; and he lay before me now, the hand of death close upon him; not a moment was to be lost, and what was I to do? What way was I to take to begin to teach him, as it were at the eleventh hour, the first rudiments of Christianity?

I had scarcely ever before felt such a sinking within me. I could do nothing, that I knew full well, but on the other hand, God could do all; I therefore raised up my heart and besought my Heavenly Father for Christ’s sake to direct me in this most difficult and trying position, and to open to me, by His spirit of wisdom, a way to set forth the glad tidings of salvation, so as to be understood by this poor benighted wanderer. I was silent for a few moments, whilst engaged in inward prayer and gazing with deep anxiety on the melancholy object before me. It struck me that I ought to try to discover how far his intelligence in other things extended, and whether there might not be reasonable hope of his understanding me, when I should commence to open to him (as I was bound to do), the Gospel message of salvation. I looked down upon him with an eye of pity which I most sincerely felt, and I thought he observed that compassionate look, for he softened towards me as I said, “My poor boy, you are very ill; I fear you suffer a great deal.” “Yes, I have a bad cold; the cough takes away my breath and hurts me greatly.” “Have you had this cough long?” I asked. “Oh, yes, a long time, near a year now.” “And how did you catch it? A Kerry boy I should have thought would have been reared hardily, and accustomed to this sharp air!” “Ah,” he answered, “and so I was, until that terrible night, it was about this time last year, when one of the sheep went astray. My father keeps a few sheep upon the mountains, and this is the way we live. When he reckoned them that night there was one wanting, and he sent me to look for it.”

“No doubt,” I replied, “you felt the change from the warmth of the peat fire in this close little hut to the cold mountain blast.” “Oh! that I did; there was snow upon the ground, and the wind pierced me through; but I did not mind it much, as I was so anxious to find father’s sheep.” “And did you find it?” I asked, with increased interest.

“Oh, yes; I had a long weary way to go, but I never stopped until I found it.” “And how did you get it home? You had trouble enough with that too, I dare say. Was it willing to follow back?” “Well, I did not like to trust it, and besides it was dead beat and tired, so I laid it on my shoulders, and carried it home that way.” “And were they not all at home rejoiced to see you when you returned with the sheep?” “Sure enough, and that they were,” he replied. “Father and mother, and the people round that heard of our loss, all came in the next morning to ask about the sheep, for the neighbors in these matters are mighty kind to each other. Sorry they were too, to hear that I was kept out the whole dark night; it was morning before I got home, and the end of it was, I caught this cold. Mother says I will never be better now. God knows best; anyways I did my best to save the sheep.”

“Wonderful!” I thought, “here is the whole gospel history. The sheep is lost, the father sends his son to seek for, and recover it. The son goes willingly, suffers all without complaining, and in the end sacrifices his life to find the sheep, and when recovered, he carries it home on his shoulders to the flock, and rejoices with his friends and neighbors over the sheep which was lost, but is found again.” My prayer was answered, my way was made plain, and by the grace of God I availed myself of this happy opening. I explained to this poor dying boy the plan of salvation, making use of his own simple and affecting story. I read to him the few verses in the fifteenth chapter of Luke’s Gospel, where the care of the Shepherd for the strayed sheep is so beautifully expressed, and he at once perceived the likeness, and followed me with deep interest while I explained to him the full meaning of the Parable.

The Lord mercifully opened not only his understanding, but his heart also, to receive the things spoken. He himself was the lost sheep, Jesus Christ the Good Shepherd, Who was sent by the Father to seek for him, and Who left all the joys of that Father’s heavenly glory, to come down to earth and search for him, and other lost ones like himself; and as the poor boy had borne without murmuring the freezing snowstorm and the piercing wind, so has the blessed Saviour endured the fierce contradiction of sinners against Himself and the bitter scorn and insults heaped upon Him, without opening His mouth to utter one word of complaint, and at last laid down His precious life, that we might be rescued from destruction and brought safe to our everlasting home. Neither will He trust His beloved ones, when rescued, to tread the perilous path alone, but bears them on His shoulders, rejoicing, to the heavenly fold. My poor sick lad seemed to drink it all in. He received it all. He understood it all. I never saw a clearer proof of the power of the Divine Spirit to apply the Word of God. He survived our first meeting but a few days. I had no time to read or expound to him any other portion of the Scripture. At times we could hear nothing but the stifling, rending cough, at others he slumbered heavily for a little; but whenever he was able to think and listen, these verses in the fifteenth chapter of Luke satisfied and cheered him. He accepted Christ as his Saviour, he earnestly prayed to be carried home, like the lost sheep, in the heavenly Shepherd’s Arms. He died humbly, peacefully, almost exulting, with the NAME of “JESUS, MY SAVIOUR, AND MY SHEPHERD,” the last upon his lips.

The Juniper Tree.

AFTER the triumphant vindication of the God of Israel on Carmel, it is not surprising that Elijah should suffer a severe reaction, or that when he received the message from Jezebel he should flee from the scene of conflict. Yet, was this merely or only through fear of death? I venture to think that another feeling was operating.

Experience will often provide a golden key to unlock what otherwise would present a different conclusion to the mind of a servant of God, Elijah had openly challenged Baal and all his priests; he had fearlessly met Ahab; he had opened the windows of heaven by his prayer of faith. Why then should he show signs of fear and flee for his life? Does it not rather indicate that he was perplexed at heart to understand the mysterious dealing of his God? Was God going to permit so faithful a servant to be put to death by an alien idolater, a wicked woman? Is site to subvert the purpose of Jehovah? Where then is justice? Shall right be defeated and wrong prevail?

Every true servant of God sooner or later finds himself in a similar position; and knows what it is to pass with Elijah into utter dejection and solitariness to reason out the problem with God and himself. The pathway to the Juniper tree has by this time been trodden hard by many weary feet. Is all service to end in failure? Is treachery to reign triumphant over right? Has God forgotten? Is He unkind, unjust? Has He overlooked or under-valued my honest purpose of integrity? Is the majestic triumph and beauty of Carmel to die away under a Juniper bush?

Yes: it is even so, O man of God! It is God’s decree for thee, for me, for His Own Son. Listen! “I have labored in vain, I have spent my strength for naught and in vain.” Jesus is the Speaker here. He has trodden the path to make it quite plain to thee, to me, to Elijah, to Stephen, to Paul.

Why should the disappointed Moses die on Pisgah, in sight of the Promised Land? And why should not the disappointed Elijah die when he wanted to give up his life? Because God meant to answer the prayer of each, not in the explicit terms of the petition, but in the implicit terms of His Own wisdom and love. Listen again: “Behold, there talked with Him two men, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory!” (Luke 9.) Two disappointed servants of the Living God, one after fifteen centuries, the other after nine hundred years, in glory with Jesus. A “goodly mountain” indeed, ineffably more beautiful than either Pisgah or Carmel.

God will ever be “His Own Interpreter,” and always in His Own way and His Own time. Therefore, O man of God, be quiet. Eat the cake the Angel brings thee, drink the cooling water from the cruse, weep it all out to God, and have a refreshing sleep. He understands. The glory of Tabor will more than compensate the pain of Pisgah; and fifteen hundred years of waiting will not be worthy of a thought.

William Wileman.

At Nine O'clock.

A True Story.

IT was a fearful night; earlier the ship had danced along over sunlit waves that, when they grew at all boisterous, only seemed boisterous with merriment, and the whole ship’s crew had passed to and fro, singing at their work without a thought of danger, or exchanging the lighthearted jests that flow so easily at sea. Now all was changed, for a terrific storm had arisen quite suddenly and unexpectedly; the elements had turned on them all; the thundering-waves roared against the ship, and when she sank into the great trough of a billow it seemed as if she would never rise again, while every timber creaked and strained until it sounded as if the vessel must part asunder with the violence of the storm; the oldest sailors were alarmed, and the less experienced were terrified beyond measure.

Among the latter were two cabin-boys, the younger of whom was named Ronald. It was his first voyage, and never having faced a furious sea before, he felt as if his senses must forsake him.

His mother, a woman of some education and refinement, had been obliged, owing to her poor circumstances, to send him to sea; but he must have wished that night he had never come, and, child as he was, he must have longed for the touch of his mother’s arms.

Indeed, it needs the very revelation of God to feel as near heaven at sea, as in the security of dry land, specially in a time of storm; even the disciples roused Christ in His weariness, when the angry waves curled over the sides of the boat and threatened to engulf them, while to the ungodly and superstitious any upheaval of the elements is awe-inspiring and paralyzing.

The captain of the boat was a kind-hearted man; he passed and saw the frightened lads huddled together, and a fatherly feeling of pity rose within him; he accordingly asked them into his cabin for shelter; there they took refuge, and clinging the one to the other talked in fearful whispers.

The elder boy, having been to sea before (though never in such a violent storm), was more able to play the part of protector, and he tried to console his poor little friend; but, as the moments passed, consolation was needed for everyone, for the captain, with his kind face strangely moved, was obliged to inform the ship’s company that there was no more hope of their lives being spared; they were, each and every one of them, humanly speaking, doomed.

The strange part was that the elder cabin-boy still clung to hope, and nothing would persuade him that the ship was going down; he bent at last and whispered to his panic-stricken and sobbing companion: “Don’t cry, poor chap,” he said, “we’ll weather this storm if we can hold out until nine o’clock tonight.”

“How so?” asked Ronald.

Driven to divulge his heart’s secret, the cabin-boy, through the thundering’s of the storm, told Ronald, what most likely he told to few before. This was his story: ―

His mother was a good and pious woman, and when he left her to go to sea she had spoken seriously to her happy, careless boy, telling him to remember that every night at nine o’clock she would he praying for him; if they were not wrecked before nine, he said they would not be lost, for the storm could never swallow him up if she prayed for him.

Ronald was not perfectly convinced by this argument; he had not been brought up in a religious atmosphere, for his mother, though cultured and kind, was a frivolous and worldly woman who never communed with heaven; he had not a particle of faith; of the love of God he knew nothing, for he had never been taught, and, added to his merely physical horror of the angry sea, there was the terror of that mysterious and awful thing called death, which plunged you, against your will, into what you could not comprehend and had never desired.

Fear or joy makes us, at times, tell what we would never have told otherwise; and fear, on this occasion made the cabin-boy go on and give a further reason for the hope that burned so unquenchably in his heart; in answer to Ronald’s unbelieving ejaculations he added more of his personal experiences.

Yes, he believed in prayer, even if Ronald did not, at least he believed in his mother’s prayers, for he had proof positive that God heard her; and as they crouched together in the captain’s cabin he told Ronald how he had once been on a voyage to Singapore and, while there, had been seized with one of the deadly fevers that work such havoc in those parts.

In the grip of that deadly fever in Singapore the cabin-boy must have learned from bitterest experience how hard it is to repent or pray when you are so ill that you can scarcely think at all; but, far away in Scotland, someone was lifting up holy hands and crying to God to save her son, though she knew nothing of the terrible sickness that was wasting him.

The doctor anxiously watched the lad and did for him all that human skill could do, but he knew well that he was dangerously ill, and doubted whether he could last out that night. Nine o’clock came, and then, suddenly, unexpectedly, a change took place, and it was evident that the fever was leaving him.

When the doctor told him later that the change had taken place after nine, on the very night they had almost despaired of his life, the lad remembered his mother’s word; out of the past came the vision of her entreating eyes, and the remembrance of her faithful promise that every night, at nine o’clock in far-away Aberdeen, she would pray for her sailor-boy. In a flash, as he heard the doctor’s words, he realized the power of prayer. He may not have prayed very often since then, but, shivering with fear beside his little companion in the captain’s cabin, all this came back to him, and he told it to him with a growing faith; at nine o’clock his mother would be praying for him, but they ought to unite their prayers with her’s; “We must pray too,” he said, “I’ll begin.”

I do not know what the boy said; he prayed for help, that was all; but I do know that the weak, imperfect prayers of the boys in the cabin, terrified by the storm (prayed, not in adoration or love of the Father, but as if wrung from their hearts through bitter need), united with petitions of the faithful mother so far away. “If any two of you shall agree as touching anything,” said Christ, “it shall be done for you of My Father which is in heaven,” and, still, through all the ages of doubt and mistrust, the world, where it has claimed the promise, has found it true. Two prayers are a “perfect strength,” and bring down the blessing from the windows of heaven.

Those supplications were heard and answered; the wind abated and the storm waves lowered their crests. Long before midnight the danger was over, for He Who holds the waters in the hollow of His Hand, and Whose Word is fulfilled by the stormy wind and tempest, said “Peace, be still,” and so the calm came. But on Ronald’s heart a deep impression had been made, which nothing could efface; ignorant he was as to the things of God, but it gave him now a sense of pain to think that his mother never prayed for him as his companion’s mother did; suppose that he had been alone in the storm without the friend who led a charmed life, what then!

When he reached home safely he told her all the story, and begged her to pray for him, else he felt he could not face the horrors of the vasty deep again. The poor mother was stricken to the heart and dumbfounded at his words, saying at last to him, through her tears, that she would need to pray for herself first; her child’s story had made her realize that, at any time, that hour of death, and day of judgment may come upon us and find us unprepared, and that it were better to pray at once “Good Lord, deliver,” and so be ready for it; she saw how sinful she had been in that she had never prayed.

That fearful storm at sea had a great effect on two lives at least. Ronald’s mother sought God and found Him, and afterward, in the time she could spare from her busy life as the head of a temperance hotel, she devoted herself to good works in the town where she lived.

As for Ronald himself, he rose rapidly in his profession, and, when first officer, was highly applauded for his heroic conduct in saving the lives of the passengers of an emigrant vessel, when the captain had been washed overboard, off the coast of Australia. R. D.

Alone With God.

SILENCE and solitude are as needful to the soul as sleep is to the body. If we would be used much of God, we must be much with God.

In reading the Word of God, we find that all the mighty men of faith spent much time in secret communion with God. They waited upon God and renewed their strength.

Moses must go away into the desert for forty years that God might train and discipline him to be the Deliverer of His people; David, the anointed, must fly as an outlaw in daily peril, that he might develop courage and trust to fit him to be Israel’s king; John the Baptist must live in the solitude of the wilderness that he might be the Herald of the Messiah; St. Paul must tarry three years in Arabia before he was sent forth as the apostle to the Gentiles; St. John must be banished to the solitude of Patmos to behold the glory of the Lamb of God and see the vision of a new heaven and a new earth. Even the Man, Christ Jesus, must often seek the solitary place to be alone with His Father. In later times we find

Martin Luther must be confined

in the fortress of Wartburg that his soul might expand and bring forth in full measure the new light that God had given to him, and in his solitude alone with God he forged a mightier weapon and struck a deadlier blow for the truth than all else he ever spoke or did; John Bunyan must be thrown into Bedford Prison for his witness of the truth and there, sitting in solitude, his heart was “enlarged” as he thought upon the things of God and in his imagination he dreamed of the conflict of the human soul in its walk through life. “His Pilgrim’s Progress was the result of his meditation—a book which even today is read more widely than any other ‘book in the world excepting the Bible.

It is in the secret place that the soul learns to understand the things of God. It is there that we are fitted to do the will of God.

"Be not Weary in well Doing."

Gal. 6:9.

“Go on in faith, not void His Word

It is all powerful saith the Lord

And though for reasons of His Own

Results to you may be unknown

One day, with Him in Heaven you’ll see

The Harvest of your ministry.”

With Father.

A LITTLE boy was traveling by train. A fellow-passenger asked him where he was going. He replied: “I am going with father.” He did not worry about the outcome of his journey because he had implicit confidence in the loving oversight of his father. How much fretting and worrying we could save ourselves; how much peace and joy would be ours, if, being God’s dear children through faith in His Son, we would always remember and trust in the Divine promise.

Fragment.

I AM a sinner; I know it. Christ is my Saviour; I know it. I am saved from myself, and apart from myself altogether. Thank God for that finished work, that has blotted out all my sins, and made me fit for heaven.

Going to the Golden City.

The facts on which the following lines are based, are vouched for as strictly true.

LAME and old, lame and old,

She lived alone in a mud-built cot;

Walls and windows let in the cold;

Desolate, desolate seemed her lot.

Food in winter was hard to win,

Fuel to warm her harder still;

She had buried her last of kith and kin;

She was poor and lonely, and old and ill.

Never a fire in her tiny grate

Had shone today with its feeble spark;

The sun was setting hi pomp and state—

Setting, to leave her alone and dark.

Whence the light in her aged eye?

Whence the smile on her furrowed brow?

‘Tis a beam from the Saviour’s throne on high—

A seal of His presence with her now.

Surely for some the golden gates

Are opened awhile ere they enter in,

And they taste the glory which yet awaits

The Spirit ransomed from death and sin.

That setting sun of God’s holy day

Had seen her bow at His feet in prayer;

The Sabbath service, so far away,

Though loved as ever, she could not share.

But she knelt on the rough, uneven floor,

And bent her cheek on the broken bed;

And want and weakness were felt no more,

For tears of joy were the tears she shed.

“O Father in heaven, Thy love has been

Ever around me in weal and woe;

I thank Thee for all that mine eyes have seen

Of all Thy faithfulness here below.

“I thank the Great Shepherd that followed me,

And brought me home to His happy fold;

And has kept me there, when, willfully,

I else had left it, oh, times untold.

“And day after day Thy Spirit’s grace

Has led me on with unwearied love,

And now I soon shall behold Thy face

In the happy home of Thy saints above.

“Father in Heaven, be with me still!

Jesus, my Saviour, oh, quickly come!

Wash me from every stain of ill,

And bear me speedily, safely Home.”

She raised her head, and the westering sun

Gleamed in bright glory on her brow:

Seldom, surely, since time begun

Sank he in such a gorgeous glow.

The glow has faded, the vision ends,

And sleep and darkness are on the earth—

Sleep, which a sweet oblivion lends

Alike to the children of grief and mirth.

The widow slept; and while her eyes

Were closed in slumber, a dream she dreamed,

Filling her soul with sweet surprise;

So strange, and yet so true it seemed.

When morning dawns, and the widow wakes,

“It could only have been a dream,” she cried.

“How swift a journey the spirit takes!

I thought at first I had surely died.”

Her scanty store for a scanty meal

She carried in to a neighbor’s near;

“I should like the warmth of your fire to feel,

And to eat my morsel in comfort here.”

“Aye, aye, come in; there is always room;

And put thy chair in the old man’s nook,

And tell him something to chase his gloom

Out of thy favorite holy Book.

“Thou host a scanty breakfast.” “Nay,

It is enough,” she quickly cried:

“The promise fails not from day to day—

I know my Father will still provide.

“And if so be He should want me home,

It is a token that’s easily read

Whenever He means to bid me come,

And not before, He will stop the bread.”

“You’re happy, Nancy?” “Aye, aye,” she cried;

“And so would you be if saved like me.

There’s never a sinner for whom Christ died,

Who while on earth should distrustful be.

“And yesternight I was dreaming, too,

A happy dream you would like to hear;

A dream, I know, which is mostly true;

I wish the end might be true and near.

“I thought I stood by a river side;

And far away on the other shore

Was the golden City, its gates flung wide;

But there was no one to take me o’er.

“I saw the ‘shining ones’ in the street;

I heard their harp-strings music pour;

I saw them waiting my soul to greet;

But there was no one to take me o’er.

“I thought I saw where the Saviour’s throne

Shone in the midst of that city fair;

Oh, how I longed to be up and gone!

And suddenly, suddenly I was there.”

She ceased; and after a pause they said,

“And what did you see in that City fair?

“No answer—the spirit to heaven had fled;

Suddenly, suddenly she WAS there.

A. F. R.

Thou Shalt Call Me, My Father.

(Jer. 3:19.)

OUR God loves us to realize His parental relation to us, and to acknowledge the same in our approaches to Him. A father can do what no one else can. He can forgive the basest conduct; he can love the most deformed child; he can receive the most ungrateful prodigal; he can bestow the most costly favor; he can exercise the greatest patience. So our God, because He is a Father, pities us, pardons us, provides for us, loves us, acknowledges us, and rejoices over us to do us good. Let us dwell upon this sweet view of the Almighty. Let us pray as to a Father; let us work as for a Father; let us expect as from a Father; let us trust as in a Father. Let us love God as a Father. Let us speak of Him as of a Father. Let us place confidence in Him as in a Father. Let us seek the Spirit of adoption, if we have it not, to bear witness with our spirit that we are the children of God; to cry, “Abba, Father,” in our hearts; and to enable us, without fear or wavering, to call Him our Father. Oh, how much sadness it would prevent, how much comfort and peace would it bring to our souls, if we lived under the impression that our God is our Father!

“Abba, Father,” Lord we call Thee,

Hallowed Name! from day to day:

‘Tis Thy children’s right to know Thee,

None but children “Abba” say.

A River That Maketh Glad.

A LADY once was leaning over a bridge at Leamington watching the fresh sparkling waters of the stream murmuring beneath. Her thoughts turned to Holy Scripture, and she uttered aloud, almost unconsciously, the words of the forty-sixth Psalm, fourth verse: “There is a river, the streams whereof make glad the city of God.” A gentleman was passing by and heard the words. Turning to her, he said very quietly, “Forgive me, but is there anything that maketh glad in this world of misery?” The question led to a few earnest words in reply. The lady told from her own experience of Him Who came to save, and Who alone can refresh and satisfy the weary soul. She invited the inquirer to prove for himself the blessedness of trusting in Jesus. So they parted, but the message by the bridge was a word in season, and guided a thirsty soul to Him, Who is the Fountain of living waters, and the Wellspring of all true joy.

The lady discovered this in a remarkable way. Some years after the word spoken at the bridge, a gentleman was shown into her pew in a London church. He was quite a stranger, and a place being vacant he took it. The lady was struck with his devout bearing. As he went away, he turned to her, opened his Bible at the forty-sixth Psalm and, pointing to the verse she had quoted, said that he had “cause indeed to thank God for her repeating that verse on Leamington Bridge.”

(It may be a lesson to the Christian to make greater use of Holy Scripture. A single verse, uttered at a suitable moment, and in the spirit of the Master, may prove a lifelong blessing to the one who hears it. It may be God’s Own chosen means of leading a soul to Himself.)

But I would ask you to notice the connection in which these words are found. There is something very beautiful about it. Around the city there is trouble and distress. All seems confusion. The waters roar; the mountains shake; yea, the earth is removed. Peril and danger, foes and fears, surround the city on every hand. The heathen rage. The enemies of Zion threaten to destroy. But, there is a sure defense. In spite of all, there is a safe shelter. There is One in the midst of her stronger than all who combine against her, so that her inhabitants may sing a triumph-song even whilst the peril continues.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof.” “God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved God shall help her, and that right early.” “The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.” (Psa. 46:1-3, 5, 7.)

Here is a blessed confidence. Here is a fortress which none can invade, a strong habitation that none can overthrow. But there is more than this. Within the city there flows a peaceful river, If the rough waves of the mighty ocean rage and toss themselves without, a river of joy and peace and quietness flows within. So that there is not only safety, but comfort and gladness and hope. “There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High.” (vs. 4.)

Here is a sweet thought for the true “children of Zion” as they journey on. Every year brings its sorrow and loss and trial. War does its deadly work, and has had its victims. Many a home is deprived of its stay. Hard times bring not a few to the brink of poverty and want. Each coming year will have its troubles also, and perhaps the reader may find in them many a heavy load of care and anxiety. But, if God be your Refuge, if Christ be your Hiding-place, you are a “citizen of Zion,” and all its privileges are yours. The God of all power and might, the faithful God, the everlasting God, the God of providence and grace, is on your side; and “if God be for you, who can be against you?” You, too, shall have access to this river of gladness. You shall “be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of His house, and shall drink of the river of His pleasures.” (Psa. 36:8.)

But is there anything that makes glad in a world of sorrow such as ours? Yes, indeed there is. True heart-gladness is provided for earth’s sorrowing children. What is the spirit of true religion? What is the life God would have His children lead? Is it bondage, fear, and dread? Is it gloom, sadness, a troubled and disquieted spirit? Is it a needful drudgery to be endured to obtain rest hereafter? Nay, rather, is it not “righteousness, joy, and peace in the Holy Ghost”? Hath not the Master told us that, “His joy shall abide in us,” “that our joy may be full”? Dangers and difficulties may thicken around; tears, troubles, and temptations may lie in wait for us; we may be “cast down for a season, and be in heaviness through the manifold trials” of life; but if we trust in Jesus, joy is on the way, yea, we have it now, as through our tears we look up, to Him Who is close by to cheer and uphold us.

The note was once heard from angel-lips, “Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people, for unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.” Then was the glad song caught up by the heavenly choir in the noble anthem: “Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, and goodwill toward men.” Nor has the joy ever ceased from that day to this. The shepherds heard it and rejoiced. The Virgin Mother with a strange joy pondered it in her heart. Simeon and Anna in the Temple took up the strain. The wise men from the East came and carried back the exceeding joy that filled their hearts. Peter and the rest of the Apostles rejoiced in the stripes laid upon them for Christ. The Eunuch went on his way rejoicing. Paul and Silas sang hymns in the dark dungeon at Philippi. And right on ward from those early Gospel days has the gladness spread from heart to heart and from shore to shore, till now, in almost every land, there are some faithful ones in Christ, even in persecution, poverty, or pain, who can “rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.” Only the other day I heard a touching story of a Christian’s joy. It was about a young girl who was deprived of almost every source of comfort. She was quite blind, and unable to hear or speak. The only way in which others could communicate with her was by writing on her cheek, and she replied by writing on a slate, in some way guiding the pencil with her mouth. A clergyman was one day visiting her. He wanted to comfort her, yet the words must be few. So he wrote on her cheek, “Rejoice in the Lord.” She immediately wrote back on the slate, “He is my only joy.”

Let me give another incident, and this from a foreign land. A Mohammedan lady was baptized at Amritsar, having to bear, for Christ’s sake, no small amount of persecution and reproach from her husband and relatives. She was beaten about the face till the blood flowed, and scarcely escaped with her life. A fortnight afterward a relative was trying to persuade her to go back to her former faith. She replied, “Having first drunk from a muddy well, and then having found a spring of clean, fresh, sweet water, do you think I should go back to the muddy well again?” Truly she had also been refreshed by the “river that maketh glad,” and therefore could no more forsake its life-giving waters.

Come, reader, and drink from this stream of Divine consolation, “O taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man that trusteth in Him.”

The Dartmoor Shepherd.

“The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.” ―1 John 1. 7.

A SHEPHERD on the Dartmoor Hills, who had spent his whole life looking after his sheep, as old age drew on became totally blind. He was frequently visited by one of his granddaughters, who read to him portions of the Word of God. One day, while the little girl was reading to him from the first chapter of the Epistle of John, she reached the seventh verse— “And the blood of Jesus Christ,” etc.— when the old man stopped her, and raising himself up with great earnestness said, “Is that there, my dear?” “Yes, grandpapa.” “Then read it again to me: I have never heard the like before.” Again she read it. “You are quite sure that it is there?” “Yes, quite sure.” “Then take my and hand put my finger on the passage, for I should like to feel it.”

So the little girl took his bony finger and put it on the seventh verse, when he said, “Read it to me again.” The little girl read over the precious words of our text, when he said, “You are quite sure that it is there?” “Yes, quite sure.” Then the old man said, “If anyone should ask how I died, tell them I died in the faith of those words, ‘The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.’” Not long after the old man passed away to be forever with his Lord. What power there is in the Word of God applied by the Holy Spirit. By nature we are blind, we cannot see what a Saviour has been provided for sinners, but when we yield to the Holy Spirit, He is ever ready to reveal Christ to us as our all-sufficient Saviour. He saves and He keeps all who put their trust in Him.

Fifty Years a Convict.

“WELL, my friend, you have not much longer to serve! What will you do when you leave here?” said a Christian policeman to a convict. It would be difficult to find a more ungainly face or a more repellent manner. “You are getting an old man now. What are you thinking of doing when you leave here?”

“The first thing I shall do when I leave here, will be to murder a policeman. Yes, that will be my first work. He gave false evidence against me and told more than the truth, and he will pay for it with his life! I had a letter from a chum of mine who told me Bess (his gun) was all right with plenty to eat and drink (his ammunition).”

“Well, after you have murdered the policeman, what then?”

“Then I shall be caught and locked up.”

“Yes, and what then?”

“Then I shall be tried and sentenced.”

“Yes, and after you are tried and sentenced, what then?”

“Then I shall be hanged.”

“Yes, and after you are hanged, what then?”

The man’s thoughts had apparently not traveled beyond death. He was evidently startled.

“Have you a Bible in your cell?”

“Yes, and I have read it through hundreds of times to kill time.”

“Well have you ever read, ‘For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life’? The living words were spoken slowly.

“No, that ain’t in MY Bible.”

“Well, when you go back tonight, you look in John 3:16, and you will find these words.”

“Yes, I’ll look! And you are the only man except one who ever spoke kindly to me. I’ll look, but it ain’t there, not in my Bible.”

There was an indescribable difference in the old man as he walked down to the side of the water next morning.

“Well, my friend, did you read John 3:16?”

“Aye, I’ve read it,” he answered, “and I did not know it was there, although I’ve read it over and over. But do you mean to tell me,” he continued with intense earnestness, “that it means me? Me! A convict of fifty-years’ standing?”

The heart of the policeman burned within him as he answered: “Yes, oh yes, it means you. It is God’s Word, you know, and God always means what He says. You are one of the ‘world,’ and God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”

The old man stood up in the boat and stretched out his arms.

“Sir,” he said, “they might have burned my finger joints off, they might have burned my hands off, and I would not have given in, but such love as this breaks my heart.” And he sat down in the boat and sobbed aloud.

The policeman stood silently by. His heart was filled with exceeding joy. God had answered his prayers.

Presently the old man looked up.

“Oh, sir,” he said, while the tears still ran down his cheeks, “if you knew my past life you would not be surprised that this wonderful love of God breaks my heart. I have never known what love is since my mother died. I was only five years old then, and my father kicked me out of doors, telling me to go and get my own living as he had kept me long enough. Oh, sir, I shan’t murder the policeman now; God in His great love has stopped me.”

The policeman was deeply touched. God had given him a message from His Own never-changing Word. The Holy Spirit convicted of sin, and here was the convict of fifty years’ standing, sitting at the feet of Jesus clothed and in-his right mind!

—From “Faithful Words.”

Stand on Every Promise of God to Carry You Through.

YOU will never know how rich you are until you begin to cash God’s promises. The promises of God are the blank cheques on the Treasury of Heaven. They cover every need of the Christian’s life. They are God’s pledges, and they can never be broken. Try them one by one, and see what sense of security comes to your heart.

“Whereby are given unto use exceeding great and precious promises; that by these ye might be partakers of the Divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust” (2 Peter 1:4). It does not matter what your condition in the Christian life may be at this moment, there is a promise of God to meet your every need.

Are you surrounded by danger and peril? Then remember “The Eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” (Deut. 33:27).

Is your life burdened by many cares? Then rejoice in that you have the God-given privilege of “Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you.” (1 Peter 5:7).

Are you friendless and alone in the world? Then you can know that there is One who has promised, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.” (Heb. 13:5).

Are you without work or an income? “But my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4:19).

Are there many temptations confronting you? “But God is faithful, Who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able.” (1 Cor. 10:13).

Has sickness come into your life and robbed you of your strength? Here then is a promise that should help you: “And He said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee; for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Cor. 12:9).

Are you persecuted by others? Then you ought to be happy and not downcast, for the Word says: “If ye suffer for righteousness’ sake, happy are ye.” (1 Peter 3:14).

Is the thought of where your food and clothing are coming from worrying you? “Therefore, take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?... for your Heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.” (Matt. 6:31-32).

Are you weary and tired of everything? Then, “Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” says the Lord (Matt. 11:28).

Are you worried about the future of your children growing up in this wicked age? Then, “Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” (Prov. 22:6).

Is the fear of a desolate old age staring you in the face? Then know that God has said, “And even to your old age I am He; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you.” (Isa. 46:4).

Do you long for sympathy and pity? Then be assured that, “Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him.” (Psalm 8:13).

Does your life seem as though it is made up of just one trouble after another? Then remember the Lord has said: “In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33).

Are you in perplexity and doubt about what you should do regarding some serious matter, and do you long for the Lord to guide you? Then, “In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” (Prov. 3:6).

Are you one of those who constantly worry about “tomorrow”? “Take therefore no thought for the morrow for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.” (Matt. 6:34).

Are you afraid you might backslide in your Christian life, and finally be lost? Then, cling to the precious promise that the Lord “is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the Presence of His glory with exceeding joy.” (Jude 24).

Is there no abiding peace in your heart and life? Then remember the promise which says: “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee: because he trusteth in Thee.” (Isa. 26:3).

Have you almost reached the end of your pilgrimage on earth, and are you beginning to think that the shadow of death may not be far off? Then these words from the Shepherd Psalm will be exceedingly precious to you: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me.” (Psa. 23:4). And if there is some special difficulty or trial in your life that none of these precious promises seem to touch, then here is a promise that will fit you too. “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God.” (Rom. 8:28).

Tomorrow.

“TOMORROW”— take no thought for it.

Why over-anxious be?

Thus didst Thou say;

Lord, I obey

And leave it all with Thee.

“Tomorrow”— unforeseen, unknown,

My Father, be it so!

‘Tis but for me

To follow Thee

Wherever Thou shalt go.

“Tomorrow” is not mine but Thine.

On Thee, Lord, I rely—

For every day Along life’s way

Thou wilt my needs supply.

“Tomorrow,” yes, my God, I know

The burden Thou wilt bear.

Then I can rest

Contented, blest—

Thou makest it Thy care.

“Tomorrow,” as in years gone by

Thou still wilt faithful be.

Thy changeless Name

Is just the same,

And I am dear to Thee.

C. H. W.

The Cleansing Blood.

IT is said that Luther during a serious illness seemed to see Satan coming to him with a great scroll, on which were written all the sins and errors of his life. Looking at him with a triumphant smile, he unrolled it, saying, “These are your sins. There is no hope of your going to heaven.” Luther read the long list with growing consternation, when it flashed upon his mind that there was one thing not written there. He said aloud: “It is all true, but the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.”— A M. W.W.

A Mother's Love.

A YOUNG woman was converted at a gospel preaching. Her life had been one of open shame for some time, and a poor mother in the distant home had wept burning tears over the absent prodigal.

When the daughter was converted, her first act was to write home and tell her mother. And who can describe the joy of that mother’s heart, as she read through her tears of happiness of the salvation of her child! And the love that had never been quenched by all these storms of shame and sorrow, but which had burnt brightly on her heart’s shrine, now shone forth more radiant than ever.

She wrote a letter to her daughter of which the following is an extract.

“My dear Daughter, — Come home at once, and all will be forgiven. I have never let anyone sleep in your bed since you have been gone. Your little sister often cries for you, and wonders where you are. Come home, and not a word shall be said to you about the past.”

How touching! How beautiful! And is not this a picture of the heart of God? He says to you, poor sinner, Come home at once. Come to Jesus now. He forgives and He forgets. “Your sins and your iniquities will I remember no more,” is the word.

The mother wrote, “Not a word shall be said to you about the past,” and God will let the waters of oblivion sweep over your many sins, if you will but trust in Jesus now, and come home to the blessed shelter of His love.

The little sister in the home I had been speaking of wondered where the wanderer was, and we can fancy those blessed ones on the eternal shore, wondering why all do not come home to Jesus.

“Then come now, lest when you wish to come, you find the door closed against you forever. Come now, lest God, Who now says come, shall bid you depart. There is salvation for you this moment if you will accept it.

The Queen's Writing Paper.

What it was Made From.

ONE day Queen Victoria visited a paper-mill. The owner showed her through the works, not knowing who she was, and, among other places, took her into the rag-room. When she saw the soiled and impure condition of the rags, she exclaimed: “How can these ever be made white?”

“Ah, lady,” was the reply, “I have a chemical process of great power, by which I can take the color out of even those red rags.”

Before she left, he discovered that she was the Queen. A few days after, the Queen found, lying upon her writing-desk, a quantity of the most beautifully polished paper she had ever seen. On each sheet were the letters of her own name. There was also a note, which read as follows: —

“Will the Queen be pleased to accept a specimen of my paper, with the assurance that every sheet was manufactured out of the dirty rags which she saw? I trust the result is such as even the Queen may admire. Will the Queen also allow me to say that I have had many a good sermon preached to me in my mill? I can understand how the Lord Jesus can take the poor heathen, and the vilest of the vile, and make them clean; and how, though their sins be as scarlet, He can make them white as snow. And I can see how He can put His Own Name upon them; and, just as these rags, transformed, may go into a royal palace and be admired, so poor sinners can be received into the palace of the Great King.”

“Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” (Isa. 1:18).

"God Shall Wipe Away all Tears."

(Rev. 21:4.)

A TWILIGHT calm, the soft breeze scarcely stirring,

Clouds, with their sunset glory, fading fast,

All Nature hushed, breathing its benediction,

As sinks the night-kissed day to rest at last.

And far below, the whole world’s drawn-out anguish,

Hearts that are breaking, footsteps gone for aye,

Never again to cross the old home’s threshold,

Or gild the gladness of some young life’s day.

Up in the blue the Land of Peace Eternal,

Here tears yet fall—else would our dim eyes miss

That sacramental touch that clears our vision,

And leads us onward into deathless bliss.

O City fair! where all our rest is service,

Where sorrow’s past can leave no dark’ning trace.

What hopes surpassed! what bursting into blossom

Of buds long closed, when first we see His Face!

And in between, a little time of waiting,

Seeking through sorrow, deeper love to win;

Not asking “Why”; not always understanding,

One passion only—to be made like Him.

M. H.

God Is Faithful.

SPURGEON said, “Sometimes God sends His love-letters in black-edged envelopes.” He allows us to taste the bitterness of want and the desolation of bereavement. If you have lived many years, you have passed through the narrows. We have all been there. It looks as if things have got out of hand, and somehow or other we have been forgotten. When there is no one at hand to say it to you, say to yourself, “God is faithful, who will not suffer the pain to exceed the measurement of my endurance.”

Tears in Bethany.

“Mary therefore when she came where Jesus was, having, seen Him, fell at His feet.... Jesus therefore, when He saw her weeping, and the Jews that came with her weeping, was deeply moved in spirit, and troubled Himself.... Jesus wept.” (John 11:32-35 W.K.)

ARE tears discreditable to a Christian mourner? Is it wrong for believers to weep at the loss of loved ones? Never, if we, like Mary, weep at the feet of Jesus. Our Lord has an understanding heart. He knows the depths of our grief better than our dearest friends. And His very presence brings a greater relief than the tears.

The pangs of the human heart are known to Him, though He is on high. This was true of old. When Hezekiah was sick unto death, Jehovah’s message to him was, “I have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears and thy shuddering at the thought of the grave.” (2 Kings 20:5.) The king’s sorrow had brought the Lord and His anointed together, and his life was spared, and his sadness was turned into songs.

But the divine sympathies with human grief were not fully exhibited until the Son of God Himself came into this world of tears. Now we have seen in Him the comforting power of divine love. Those who saw His sympathy with the mourners in the days of His flesh can say in the words of the prophet, “Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.” (Isa. 53:4.)

Jacob, Joshua, Jeremiah never knew the revelation of divine sympathy made in Capernaum and Nain and Bethany. The pious and patient Job lacked some heart to share his great sorrow, while his eye poured out his tears to God, and his face was “foul with weeping.” (Job 16:16, 20.)

Job sat himself down in the ashes, silently nursing his grief for seven days and seven nights, his three friends uttering not a single word of sympathy. Heaviness of heart had sealed up his own lips also, and dried up his spirit. In those sad days, the lonely and friendless Job knew nothing of the living presence of the Man of sorrows, Who came to the mourners in Bethany.

Mary sat alone in the house at Bethany, grief-stricken, overwhelmed with sorrow because the dwelling-place that had known the presiding presence of her beloved brother, Lazarus, would know him again no more forever. She herself had lost the support and solace of her affectionate brother.

But besides her sisterly grief for Lazarus, another dark shadow was upon her heart as a cloud which deepened as day after day passed and Jesus did not come. Why was her prayer for her brother unanswered? She sent a special message to the Master. Why had He not come and preserved the life of Lazarus, His “friend”?

Again, another momentous consideration would add still to Mary’s perplexity and grief. She had learned that Jesus was the Sent One of God, the Hope of Israel. As the long-promised Messiah, was He not about to establish His kingdom, and reign gloriously in Zion?

Oh, why then should Lazarus, her brother, whom she knew that Jesus loved (vs. 3), become the prey of death on the eve of that kingdom? Why should he, more than others in Judaea less pious, be snatched away from the coming joys of living under the rule of the long-promised Messiah?

Truly, bereavement so often brings many a dark and puzzling thought to the brooding heart, but, thank God, it also brings the Lord Himself to the mourners, as He came to those in Bethany. When Mary saw the Lord, she fell down at His feet in humble prostration and welcome relief.

There, where once she sat to drink in His words of truth and grace, she now utters the plaint of her soul, “Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.” In these words there was a little truth, for she believed the Lord had power over death itself; a little misunderstanding, for she had thought He must needs come to Bethany to preserve her brother’s life; a little ignorance, too, for she did not know that the death of Lazarus was for the glory of God, and that a surprise for her was to come from the tomb itself.

But the Lord saw Mary’s tears. Her words of mild complaint He accepted just as they were uttered, and He made no remark. Her tears, however, awakened and made manifest His inner sympathies. Her brimming eyes told Him the depths of her grief far more than any words could.

Even the Jewish neighbors wept also, for sobs are infectious.

But the marvel of marvels was yet to follow. The blessed and Eternal Son of God joined Himself with the weepers. “When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping... He groaned in spirit, and was troubled.... Jesus wept.”

How blessed the tears of Mary that drew forth the tears of Jesus! How we love that shortest and sweetest of all the sweet verses of Scripture— “Jesus wept (shed tears).” Tears of tenderest sympathy, telling of the infinite love of His tender heart, burdened with the grief of a groaning world!

Though He knew that in a moment or so Mary would behold and embrace the brother she mourned, yet Jesus “shed tears”— tears for the mourners, and tears with the mourners, every tear telling the tale of His sympathies.

Precious monument of divine sympathy raised in Bethany for the sorrowing years that should follow! Today, multitudes of sad-eyed ones are burying their dead loved ones out of sight. For them all in their sorrow, did they but know it, “Jesus wept.”

But more; that same Jesus, the Son of God, is still “touched with the feeling of our infirmities.” So that, as we believe in His, unchanging love, we are comforted by the memory of His tears in Bethany, and by His sympathies from the throne above. We remember His promise, “I will not leave you orphans: I will come unto you.” (John 14:18.) And when He comes into the heart, we know His sympathy and priestly love, and the desolate places the soul are refreshed by His presence.

“We know Him as we could not know

Through heaven’s golden years;

We there shall see His glorious face,

But Mary saw His tears.

The touch that heals the broken heart

Is never felt above;

His angels know His blessedness,

His way-worn saints His love.

When in the glory and the rest

We joyfully adore,

Remembering the desert way

We yet shall praise Him more.”

W. J. HOCKING.

(“Golden Apples in Silver Dishes.”)

The Escaped Slave.

An African Story.

A YOUNG Christian Englishman, named Vaughan, looked for fortune in the wild parts of Africa. He had been successful and was returning to the coast with his gathered treasures, consisting chiefly in skins of animals, and in elephant tusks or ivory.

One day he was startled by cries of distress, and looking out across the river he noticed how a poor black slave was seeking to escape to him from a horde of wild men who sought to catch him.

Escaping for his life, he reached the river and swam through it as if water were his element, but just as he was clambering up the bank, a dart, hurled by the chieftain, struck him so badly that he fell disabled to the ground.

Soon the whole savage horde had also crossed the river, and would have quickly killed off the wounded slave but for the Englishman who, stepping forward, called, “Spare him! and I will buy him from you!”

“What will you give for him?” cried the chieftain.

The finest tusk of ivory was offered, but refused. One after another of his treasures was placed at the chieftain’s feet.

At last Vaughan said, “This is now all I have, take it, but let me have the slave!”

“No, never!” cried the chieftain passionately and with glaring eyes, “for only so much I will not sell my vengeance! It is blood I want, and without blood I will not be satisfied!”

At a sign from the chieftain, one of his followers hurled a dart at the wounded man. The Englishman, however, dashed forward, and with his outstretched arm stopped the weapon in its flight. Then, with the dart in his quivering flesh, and whilst great blood-drops fell to the ground, he cried loudly: “You wanted blood! — there you have blood! This slave I have now bought with my own blood!”

But now the chieftain began to tremble! He had heard of all the power of the great white Queen Victoria, and lo, now he had spilt the blood of one of her subjects! He feared the consequences, and so now was ready, without any further ado, to leave the poor slave in the hands of his liberator, and to withdraw with all his followers.

The poor black heathen, although weak from loss of blood and previous maltreatment, sought to pull himself together in order to help in reloading the cart with the skins and other objects. His liberator, however, would not allow this, and assured him he must first get well again, and he helped to bind up his wounds.

Deeply moved, yea, overcome, by all this kindness, and with the hot tears flowing freely down his cheeks, he cried out: “The blood-bought one loves—the blood-bought one must serve...!”

The greatest slave-holder is Satan, “the prince of this world” (John 12:31), “the god of this world” (2 Cor. 4:4). He has also “the power of death.” (Heb. 2:14.) As far as sin reaches, so far reaches also death; therefore all must die because all have sinned. (Rom. 5:12.) Through the fall Satan possesses, so to speak, a mortgage on the body of every human being. But not only does he seek to bring about the “first death,” the death of the body, the separation from all our earthly environment and friends, but he would like to bring each into the “second death,” that of eternal separation from God and from all the blessed ones. From the heavenly glory the “Lord of glory” descended, and, as “the Friend of sinners,” He bought us with “His own blood” (Heb. 13:12), with “His own life.” Is this not the greatest and most costly price? (1 Peter 1:19.) But only because His death was a voluntary sacrifice, and that of a sinless one, could He be our Substitute and our Saviour. (John 10:18; Heb. 9:14-.)

The “Value of His blood” is measured by the value of His life and by the greatness of His Person. (Heb. 1:3.) Therefore the blood of Jesus Christ the Son of God can cleanse us all from all sin. (1 John 1:7.) Because it is the Creator who died for His creatures. (Heb. 1:1-3.) Oh, mystery of godliness,” the Almighty Creator incognito, revealed as God in the flesh, stooped to our level of existence (“yet without sin”) and laid down His life for His creatures! (Heb. 1:1-3.) Therefore the death of Christ has eternal and wonderful import and results, for the love of God reaches far beyond only the deliverance and salvation of the sinner from guilt and death. Whoever truly believes in Christ, to whom Christ “by faith” has become a reality and precious (1 Peter 2:7), is made acceptable to God in Him. And such a one becomes a “son of God” (John 1:12), and an heir of God, a co-heir with Christ. (Rom. 8:17.) Such are “born again to a living hope” and are kept for an” inheritance undefiled.” (1 Peter 1:3-4.)

If your heart embraces all this, or rather is embraced by it, how can you other than love your Liberator, your Saviour, above all things, and desire to serve Him forever?

Oh, how does the escaped African put many of his white brothers and sisters to shame! His love, his gratitude, is really touching. But oh, how incomprehensible, how unworthy is the behavior of many who call themselves “Christians,” but only bear the Name of Christ without wanting to belong to Him.

Ad. F. Eoll.

Are You a Bridge?

HAVE you ever thought that some of us are called to be bridges? “He gave some to be apostles and some prophets and teachers” (Eph. 4:11 R.V.); but not all, perhaps because bridges were needed.

How can we be bridges? A bridge means something, generally a life—laid down. The very simplest bridge, a plank thrown across a stream, was once a part of a tree standing erect, sapping life from the earth, and beautifying all the world around it. Now it is dead, but perhaps saves other lives; anyway, it helps to make them useful and is content to push on unnoticed, unthanked, dead—a dead thing needs no thanks! “Seekest thou great things for thyself, seek them not,” be just a bridge. It is so simple. Try and put somebody else on the right track with God through Christ. When they get there, they will not thank you, will never look back probably at the bridge, but the great Architect will know and love and care.

You thought, perhaps, to be a “worker,” prominent in God’s service, but instead you are just the possibly forgotten bridge; —keep on believing. Somebody knows, understands and says, “Thank you.” Day after day the bridge is trodden under foot by many feet, hurrying and impatient, and feet tired and slow; but it is answering its purpose, besides it is dead and cannot feel, but does its work all the same. “Ye are dead and your life is hid with Christ,” and so it would be a contradiction to speak of feelings, feeling slighted, ill-treated, overlooked, not given the rightful place. Christ now lives in you, and the feelings you have are His feelings of compassion and love for the lost; and of desire for the building up of His Kingdom.

Even Jesus Himself was content to be a bridge, bridging the gulf between God and man— “it is enough for the disciple if he be as his Master.” (R.V.)

The humble-minded Barnabas also was a bridge. He died to his wealth and became a bridge for thousands in this way.

You may not be able to go to Africa or China, and yet you may be a bridge by prayer, or by something laid down, and so serve His purpose to the uttermost parts of the earth. Be a plank for some needy soul in your home, or in your business, by which he can cross over to God.

Some bridges are railroad bridges, some carriage, some foot bridges, some both railroad bridges and for foot passengers combined. Be content to be any kind of a bridge, or only a plank for Jesus!

Andrew was Simon Peter’s bridge to Christ, but Peter won thousands to Christ.

Yes, a bridge means death—once the trees from which it was made were fresh and green, giving shade and shelter to many passers-by, and they said, “How pretty those are!” Nobody says it now! Once they were growing in grandeur and beauty and were noticed by all; nobody notices them now! The trains, traffic, and hurrying footsteps of thousands, cross and re-cross it without a word of thanks for the bridge, which solves many of their difficulties and shortens their journey home; but rather, they grumble at its length and perhaps its want of beauty.

Will you die, i.e., be content to be ignored, trampled upon, to suffer unnoticed and unthanked, to lose what once, perhaps brought you popularity and praise, that others, gaining all you seem to lose, may go over you to where God wants them? It is a glorious privilege to be a bridge, but it means sacrifice and death.

Sometimes a bridge needs repairing because the old wood or stone gets worn away. It is blessed to know that “the Lord will be a place of repair for His people.” (Joel 3:16, mg.) That wood began to die when it was cut down to be a bridge and every step has worn away more from it.

This dying may mean actual loss of physical life or it may not, that is not the essential point. The point is, is your life laid down at the feet of Him Whose life was laid down for you, that He may dispose of it as He will, and make it a bridge that will serve His purpose best? He was content to be your bridge to God, will you not be a bridge for Him from this time onward? (SELECTED.)

Lovest Thou Me?

WHAT has been our response to that amazing, love of Christ? Do we love Him as we love our own souls?

Is Jesus Christ absolutely first in our affections? is Jesus Christ occupying the throne-chamber of our heart and soul? Are our lives knit, bound up with His life? Do we really love Him? Now love is the most practical as well as the most potent force in the world, for love is that which is not forever seeking lo get, but which always delights to give.

J. Stuart Holden.

God and the Soul.

THERE was nobody on the beach this morning at such an early hour, so that when a stout man entered the water and struck boldly out to sea, no one warned him of the strong and dangerous currents well known about the place. He was evidently a stranger, and, deceived by the smooth, quiet sea, never suspected danger. Away out from the shore he went steadily, never turning to see how far off the land was. By and bye, feeling a little tired he rested a little and then thought of returning. A glance landwards rather surprised him. He saw that he had covered far more distance than he imagined, and was a long way from the shore: a quick current had evidently carried him along without his suspecting anything. The swimmer did not feel afraid, but he recognized that it was more than time to go back, and made a strong effort to gain the land. All in vain! The man was a very strong swimmer, but he found that on the road back both wind and current were against him, and no headway could he make. Things began to look serious. He raised himself from the water a little and shouted, but distance swallowed his voice. His strokes grew feebler, his limbs became unsteady. In a little, he knew that instead of getting nearer land, he was being drifted out to sea. God had something to say to this man, and put him into a position where he would be sure to listen attentively.

In a short time the swimmer became very tired, gave up struggling, turned on his back as a last resort, and gave himself up for lost. This was where the Lord spoke to him.

X. had lived a careful and strictly “moral life,” had been religiously brought up, and was on very good terms with himself, quite persuaded that such a life as his was fit to bring to God. Now with death staring him in the face, and eternity looming ahead, he awoke to the fact that he was all wrong, that he was a guilty, condemned sinner, and instead of being fit to meet God, was nothing but a filthy, corrupt, lost wretch, who shuddered at the very thought of God. He awoke to the dreadful fact that he had no hope for Eternity, and he was not ready to die, and that lie had no link with the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ.

X. was thoroughly aroused to his eternal danger, so much so, that he almost forgot the imminent danger his body was in. He forgot about his body, and cried to God about his soul: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” “Lord, save me, I’m perishing.” The Lord was watching over this drowning man, and awakened and repentant sinner, and an answer came at once to his cry: “The Blood of Jesus Christ His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.” “Whosoever believeth on Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.”

Although faint and weary, and more dead than alive, the soul-awakened man replied in weak tones, “Lord, I believe Thy precious Blood was shed for me.” With that confession in utter weakness, peace and rest came to his soul; then complete bodily unconsciousness followed. God had taken care of his soul, and if God does not save his body the man is finished with this life. “Father, father! look ahead. What is that on the water? Surely it is a man!” called out the young son of the skipper of a fishing smack, which was sailing in towards the land. The father glanced quickly in front, sprang to an oar and called out to the crew, “Row for your very lives, men; there’s a fellow creature perishing!” All hands rowed desperately, not speaking a word. The skipper looking ahead saw the body of a man sink once and rise again, then sink a second time, and he concluded it would rise almost close to the boat if they made a desperate effort. “Bend to your oars, men, for one last pull and then stop; it is now or never!” Up came the body again, and within arm’s length. Strong hands eagerly stretched out to grasp it, and two or three of the crew were ready for a dive into the sea. They saw that the man was apparently lifeless. He was quite beyond helping himself. Rescue must come entirely from the fishing boat. It was no easy job. Happily, there was little or no sea on, or their efforts might have been in vain. Working together with a will, the drowning man was got aboard at last. The crew took every means in their power to restore animation and made all haste to the shore. On the way they had the satisfaction of seeing the man show signs of life.

A week later, in that same fishing smack, the swimmer who had been lifted into it in complete helplessness, was sitting in the calm of a summer’s evening, telling the crew, with some others who had gathered round, the story of what God had done for his soul while adrift in the sea. The men listened earnestly, the speaker, naturally, being a person of interest to them.

He told them of the Lord Jesus the Saviour; of the impossibility of our doing anything to save ourselves; the work must all be done by Him or we must perish; and he read to them these verses from God’s Word: ―

“But God, who is rich in mercy, for His great love wherewith He loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by grace ye are saved). For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God; not of works, lest any man should boast”. Eph. 2:4, 5, 8, 9.

He illustrated the subject by referring to his own condition. “When you saw me in the water that morning, was I in need of salvation, skipper?”

“Ay, sir, indeed you were; as much in need of it as ever I saw anyone.”

“Could I help myself?”

“No, sir, you were o’er far gone for that. You were like a dead man.”

“Did I feel my need, even?”

“No, sir, you were past feeling.”

“Then I owe everything to you and your brave men?” “Well, sir, if we had not been by, it would have gone badly with you.”

“Exactly. Did I pray and beseech you to help me, or save me, or take me into the boat?”

“Why, no, sir, you couldn’t.”

“Just so. You did all the work, and I got: all the benefit. I never even lifted a finger for myself.”

“Now, my friends, do you not see how it is with the Lord and ourselves? We are dead in sins, could do nothing for ourselves. We did not even ask Him to come to save us. He came without asking. He took our sins upon Himself the sinless One, He suffered in our stead; and now He offers salvation as His free gift; that is, He took our place, and offers us His place. When I know that He has saved me at such a cost, I cannot live as I did before. I want my life to show my gratitude and love and praise. I want to be true to the Lord God, and His Son, the Redeemer.”

The men were silent, they were deeply impressed. In several cases there was complete surrender to the Lord.

Reader! where are you? Are you saved or lost? Have you received the Saviour?

“To as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His Name.”

Communicated.

Not Tonight!"

A True Story.

I SUPPOSE I was about five years old when I was taken by my mother and father to evangelistic services conducted in the little chapel, at my old home. I was too young to carry away any distinct impression of the character of the services, but one little incident was impressed on un memory and has remained with me ever since.

One night I looked up in the middle of prayer just in time to see the head of the evangelist bent over my father’s in earnest conversation, and to catch the latter’s low-toned answer: “Not tonight.” I did not hear the question, but, child though I was, I understood that my father had put off the great decision, and in my childish way I regretted it.

Eight years passed away; another evangelist visited our little Bethel, and again to my father came the appeal: “Won’t you decide for Christ?” and again from his lips came the answer, “Not tonight.”

The years passed swiftly on, and one never-to-be forgotten night my father was summoned to my mother’s dying bed to receive from her lips one more appeal. Oh, how she pleaded with my father: “Promise that you will meet me in heaven, John,” she said with a last effort, and father, whose love for mother was great, promised. But, alas! ever the tempter was near, and again he whispered, “Not tonight.”

Three years more, and my father lay on his dying bed, but, alas! unconscious. Slowly but surely he slipped away from us. It seemed as if another voice than his was saying, “Not tonight.” I shall never forget that awful time. As we stood watching with bitter tears the last struggle, a friend standing by whispered: “What joy for your mother.” Then the awful hopelessness of it all dawned on me as never. before, and I replied, “But is it joy?” What hope was there of a happy meeting? In that moment I felt I would gladly have given up my hope of eternal life if I could have saved my father.

The memory of it all has shadowed my whole life because of this. I want to say to anyone who may be putting of the day of decision: “Oh, decide now; the night of death may bring you no opportunity for decision.”— Selected.

With acknowledgements to Living Links.

The Solar Spectrum.

THE ray of light which comes from the distant sun ... when passed through the refracting medium of the prism... falls into three groups of rays... first Heat, then Light, then these inscrutable Actinic Rays.

See with awe and reverence... the only true analogy that the universe can show of the Three in One and the One in Three. Of the Holy Trinity two are invisible and the One... between them is visible and so beautiful that He attracts all eyes and is the sole means of finding out the other Two.

There can be no life at all without heat.... It is heat that does the real “hard work” of the world ... Heat, all-pervading, generous heat, is the symbol given us of our Father in heaven with His tender and unfailing care for the whole world, even for “the unthankful and the evil.”

Light is the symbol of our Lord Jesus Christ, even as He said Himself, “I am the light of the world.” The sun is so intensely bright only because the heat is beyond anything... our minds can conceive. Extreme heat shows itself as light... Heat cannot be eliminated... but... the light is easily shut out.... Our individual wills have no power whatever to shut God out of the world— “I will work and who shall let it” — but we can shut out Christ from our heart and life— “He came unto His Own and His Own received Him not.”

Actinic Rays... cannot be seen like the light or felt like heat, but can be known only by their effect.... The Actinic Rays are the symbol of the Holy Spirit of God. Not to be seen... by us, these rays are at work everywhere.... No work is too minute for these wondrous and searching rays, and in like manner we shall find that the Spirit of God will change even the smallest things in our lives... He takes the whole life in hand— “bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ.”... We say, “Search me, O God, and know my heart, try me and know my thoughts,” and indeed these ultra-violet rays are all-piercing.

Constance L. Maynard.

What Greater Thing?

“I SENT the Saviour down from Heaven,—

What greater gift could I have given?

“I made each contrite soul My son—

What greater thing could I have done?

“I bade thee make My mercy known, —

What greater love could I have shown?”

Stewards of mercy manifold,

Lord, quicken us lest we grow cold.

(See Isa. 9:6; John 3:16; 1 John 3:2; Matt. 28:19; 1 Peter 4:10.)

E. E. Trusted.

The Song of Creation.

THE sun and the cloud declare God’s glory,

The sea and the land repeat the story;

From deep unto deep one theme is pealing,

From height unto height the echo stealing;

The day to the day one tale is telling,

And night unto night one word is spelling;

The voice of the wind in the desert crying

Is one with the croon of the pines replying;

The lilt in the note of the wild bird ringing

Is tuned to the choral the stars are singing;

One chant have lake and fount and river—

Praise ye the Lord,

And bless His Name forever.

One gladness the green of the grass is showing,

And bright in the daffodil’s gold is glowing;

One joy in the scent of the rose is breathing,

And in the grace of the vine leaves wreathing;

One rapture is felt by the sap upwelling

And by the veins of the leaf-bud swelling;

One bliss through the butterfly’s wings is thrilling,

And out of the crocus cup is spilling;

One hymn hath the heart of the earth a quiver

Praise ye the Lord,

And bless His Name forever.

From generation to generation

The heavens and earth with His praises ring,

And, lo! the pæan of all creation

Is one with the anthem the angels sing;

The saints have learned it with teats and crying

In earthly sorrow and earthly night,

The lips of the ransomed, unvexed by sighing,

Shall breathe it with rapture in cloudless light,

And the singing tide of their jubilation,

Through years eternal shall still be rolled

By every people and tribe and nation

In that new song that is yet the old;

And sweet shall it sound by the crystal river—

Praise ye the Lord,

And bless His Name forever.

All else may fail, His goodness faileth never,

All else may change, His love is changeless ever,

From age to age, for evermore the same—

Praise ye the Lord and magnify His Name.

Annie Johnson Flint.

By courtesy of the copyrighters, Evangelical. Publishers, Toronto

Unbought Joys.

A FRIEND told me recently of a splendid lecture she had thoroughly enjoyed. The subject was “Money,” and the speaker popular and well known.

The lecture must have been a delight.

Some of the thoughts passed on to me by my friend suggested other thoughts, one of which was, how much beauty many people miss every day for lack of time or inclination to notice it.

Glorious beauty, quiet, peaceful beauty―all without the expenditure of any money.

I had turned my head to look at the sky; it was the last Saturday in January, but the soft air and blue and white loveliness of the sky, brought April very near: and as I turned an aching head and longing eyes to the sky visible to my limited outlook, the thought came of all the people who could go out of doors and see a wonderful expanse of changing sky-scenery, and feel the sweetness of the air upon them―and how much joy and beauty there is in that for which to be glad and thankful.

Later—the sight of a star and reflected glory of moonlight, brought to mind the beauty and peace of night. Yet, now many people, able to walk and enjoy the activity of life, miss all that in search of material enjoyment, and craving for excitement.

Beauty is all around, if only we will see and appreciate it and we need to do so before we can value greater beauty.

The immortal words of Borrow might well sing in our hearts: “Life is sweet, brother, there’s night and day, both sweet things,... sun, moon and stars, all sweet things; there’s likewise a wind on the heath.” Mabel Jeeves.

Life More Abundant.

JESUS is the Life, and from Him all life has come. The life of nature is the outflow of His creating power. The life of mind and thought and intellect is but a radiation from His infinite mind. The power that moves the universe from the mightiest sphere to the minutest spray is His personal life, for “by Him all things consist,” and “in Him we live and move and have our being.” The tint of the Easter lily, the fragrance of the hyacinth, the teeming life of the vegetable world all come from Him.

A. B. SIMPSON.

The Plea of the Prisoner.

A Gospel Address delivered by Dr. Heyman Wreford at the Victoria Hall, Exeter.

“But what saith it? The word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth, and in thy heart: that is, the word of faith which we preach; that if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised Him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation... For whosoever shall call upon the Name of the Lord shall be saved.”— Rom. 10:8, 9, 10, 13.

PAUL calls himself, in his Epistles, a prisoner of Jesus Christ. And, as a prisoner of Jesus Christ, one held in captivity by chains of love, and fetters of grace, he pleads with unsaved sinners. His plea is that since Christ has done everything for the sinner, and God has accepted what Christ has clone on the sinner’s behalf, the sinner should believe and be saved. The full glory of the Gospel had shone upon his own soul; the ultimate results of salvation had been so marked in his own case, that as one who knew the blessedness of God in Christ, he longs for others to know it.

I dwell now upon one of the striking scenes in his eventful life; the time when, chained with earthly fetters, the prisoner of Jesus Christ stands before Festus and Agrippa.

As he stands there, he tells them the story of his own conversion. In glowing words, and with earnest speech, he recounts the incidents of the memorable journey from Jerusalem to Damascus. He speaks of his life in Jerusalem as the persecutor of the followers of Jesus of Nazareth; how he imprisoned them, and gave his voice against them when they were put to death; how, from synagogue to synagogue, he went, punishing and persecuting, and delighting in this evil work. And then he speaks of the light from heaven, brighter than the sun, that shone around him, as he journeyed towards Damascus. How he fell on the ground, and heard a Voice speaking to him and saving in the Hebrew tongue, “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me?” And his reply, “Who art Thou, Lord?” And the answer, “I am Jesus, Whom thou persecutest.” And then the divine message given to him, telling him what Christ was going to make him, and his future on this earth.

As Paul goes on with this marvelous history, I can picture his face shining, as if the light were still upon it; I can almost hear his voice, strong and clear, recounting the wondrous promises of God. I see the glad triumph in his eyes as he says, “Having therefore obtained help of God, I continue unto this day, witnessing both to small and great, saying none other things than those which the prophets and Moses did say should come; that Christ should suffer, and that He should be the first that should rise from the dead, and should show light unto the people, and to the Gentiles.”

The story is now told. Bravely and earnestly has it been spoken. But, hark! Another voice is heard; Festus loudly interrupts the apostle, “Paul, thou art beside thyself; much learning doth make thee mad.” Mad! I see Paul gaze on Festus, conscious of a hope within that cannot be dimmed; of a light burning upon his heart’s shrine that is immortal; of a glory on his life that is brightening unto eternal day. Mad! No, it is not madness that makes his eyes so bright! Mad! No, it is not madness that makes his face so radiant. Mad! No it is not madness that makes his voice so earnest. Mad! No, “I am not mad, most noble Festus,” he answers back, “but speak forth the words of truth and soberness.” And then I see the eye of Paul resting upon Agrippa as he says, “For the king knoweth of these things, before whom also I speak freely; for I am persuaded that none of these things are hidden from him; for this thing was not done in a corner. King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest.” Agrippa is startled from his self-complacency, as he hears these words of direct appeal, and for a moment there must have flashed across his soul the thought, “That man is right.” He must have had a dim conception then of something far beyond himself. The idols in the temple of his heart must have been shaken, and a dim desire must have been awakened in his breast; or, if not a desire, at least an emotion must have been stirred, for he replies, “Paul, almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.” Almost! That may do for Agrippa, it will not do for Paul. Almost persuaded, when his own heart is so full of Christ. He cries, “I would to God that not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost, and altogether such as I am, except these bonds.” Yes, the prisoner has pleaded with the king; he has shown his fettered hands, and spoken God’s eternal truth. Then, king Agrippa rises, and the audience is over. Agrippa goes away to his pleasures and his doom. Paul presses on to “an incorruptible crown, and an inheritance that fadeth not away.” When Agrippa’s robes shall have crumbled into dust, Paul will be robed in the kingly attire of heaven; and when from Agrippa’s dead brow the crown shall fall, the fadeless diadem will shine upon the brow of Paul forever.

Oh! would to God that all of you were persuaded to be Christians! Would to God that the last barrier of reserve might be broken down, and you might be prisoners of Jesus Christ.

May God help me to plead with you. My plea is this, that Jesus wants to save you and you need salvation; that Jesus died on the cross for dead sinners, that they might live in Him; that He took our sins upon Himself that we might be freed from our sins forever.

O, my God, may the people listen now! May hundreds be saved now! May the windows of heaven be opened now!

And Paul, who stood before Agrippa, has written this chapter that I read to you (Rom. 10). Let his voice ring in your hearts now, and may the truth that he presents be God’s truth to you.

What a glorious chapter this is! I think if I were anxious about my soul, I should like to sit down for about an hour, and read this chapter over and over again. I have known many souls that have been blessed by the reading of it. Many a time have I sat by the bedside of the dying and read this chapter to them, and God has sent the word home. Paul has pleaded with millions in the words of this chapter. These words will live forever, because they are the truth of God. Let me read the first verse again.

“Brethren, my heart’s desire and prayer to God for Israel is, that they might be saved.”

What pathos there is in these words; what depths of affection do they disclose! How he loved his people! The one desire of his heart for them was that they might be saved. And we desire that for you. Since God has given me toe gospel here, I have desired it for one and ail. Oh, you people, you have been prayed over, wept over, thought over, and if you are lost, who will be to blame? God knows the hearts’ desire of many of God’s people is, that you may be saved.

The religion of Christ is the most unselfish of religions. Saved ourselves, we deeply desire salvation for others. Husband! when your converted wife pleads with you about your soul, don’t speak roughly to her, and refuse to listen; for she is your true friend. Wife! listen to your husband when he reads the Bible to you. He used to spend his time in the ways of sin, but now he seeks to live for God. Parents! if your dear children tell you of the love of Jesus, listen to what they say, and be thankful that they desire your salvation. Children! listen to your parents when they tell you of the love of God. Yes, Christianity expands the heart, and makes us seek the good of those around us. A man may get rich, and not be benevolent; a man may become famous, and disdain those he knew when he was in low estate; but when a man becomes a Christian, his heart grows large within him, and the love of God that is shed abroad there, flows out to others. What we know of Christ, we long for you to know; our hopes of heaven, we long for you to share. Yes, poor sinner here tonight, we can say, “Our hearts’ desire and prayer for you is that you may be saved.”

In verse 2 we read, “For I bear them record that they have a zeal of God, but not according to knowledge.”

Yes, they were very zealous many of them, and the apostle knew all that for they would perform all the duties of the ceremonial law, but it was all zeal without knowledge. And how much of that is there in the world today? Take the case of many of you. You may tell me, “I think much about the things of God, I read my Bible daily, I say my prayers, I am occupied with thoughts of eternity. I know I am a sinner, I attend church and chapel, I attend regularly to my duties as far as I can, I am not like some who never think of the future.” Very well, my friend, you may be very zealous, but is your zeal according to knowledge? Is all this leading you to Christ? Have you known what it is to be at rest? Have you a mind at peace with God? Ah, no, you say. I could not say that. Well then, your zeal has not been rightly directed. The philosopher is very zealous in propounding theories. He imagines a philosophic heaven, and peoples it with the creations of his fancy; he is zealous to make his theories good, but without Christ it is all void of knowledge. Mahomet had zeal, and plenty of it, but no knowledge. The Parsecs are zealous, but theirs is the zeal of ignorance. The poor fanatics that cast themselves under the ponderous wheels of the car of Juggernaut are zealous. The debased idolater is zealous in his ignorance, and slavish for fear. The Pharisees were very zealous; they would stand at the street corner, and lift their brazen faces to heaven, as they prayed. They would stand in the temple, and make its courts resound with their zeal, but they had no knowledge. And there are millions today in Christian England full of zeal, even overflowing with it, dying through excess of it, making themselves martyrs to this cause and the other, and yet ignorant of the Lord Jesus Christ. All zeal is misdirected that has not Christ for its object. Christ must be the center around which the circumference of our lives must be drawn, or else our lives are spent in vain. Yes, every minute, hour, day, week, month, and year will be lost time to us, unless Christ has been before us in our life, and the motive power of action.

(To be continued D. V.)

Clasp of His Mother's Hand.

A CHRISTIAN mother died with the hand of her little son clasped in her own. Years passed and the boy grew to manhood, reckless and abandoned in character. The memory of his mother’s prayers and of the lessons he had learned at her side seemed to have faded away. From one excess of wickedness into another he plunged, until his cup of iniquity seemed full. Then, by the abounding mercy of God, he was snatched as a brand from the burning, and became a new creature in Christ. Speaking of his life of sin, he said that, hardened as he seemed, and indifferent to all things sacred, there never was a time when tempted to sin, that he did not feel the clasp of his dying mother’s hand, drawing him from the paths of sin to the ways of holiness, with a force which he found it hard to resist. That mother, though dead, yet spoke.

"He's Coming Tomorrow."

“The night is far spent, the day is at hand.” Romans 13:12.

MY soul vibrated for a moment like a harp. Was it true? The night, the long night of the world’s groping agony and blind desire, is it almost over—is the day at hand?

Again, “They shall see the Son of Man coming, in a cloud with power and great glory. And when these things begin to come to pass, look up and rejoice, for your redemption is nigh.” Luke 21:27, 28.

Coming! — The Son of Man really coming—coming into this world again with power and great glory?

Will this really ever happen? Will this solid, commonplace earth see it? Will these skies brighten and flash, and will upturned faces in this city be watching to see Him Coming? So our minister preached, in a solemn sermon, and for moments at times, I felt a thrill of reality in hearing. But as the well-dressed crowd passed down the aisle, my neighbor, Mr. Stockton, whispered to me not to forget the meeting of the bank directors on Monday evening), and Mrs. Goldthwaite poured into my wife’s ear a charge not to forget her party on Tuesday; and my wife, as she came out, asked me if 1 had observed the extravagant toilet of Mrs. Pennyman.

“So absurd,” she said, “when her income, I know cannot be half what ours is, and I never think of sending to Paris for my things. I should look on it as morally wrong!”

I spoke of the sermon. “Yes,” said my wife, “what sermon! — so solemn. I wonder that all are not drawn to hear our rector. What could be more powerful than such discourses? My dear, by-the-by, don’t forget to change Mary’s opal ring for a diamond one—dear me! The Christmas presents were all so on my mind that I was thinking of them every now and then in Church, and that was so wrong of me!”

“My dear,” said I, “sometimes it seems to me as if all our life were unreal. We go to Church, and the things that we hear are either true or false. If they are true, what things they are! For instance, these Advent sermons. If we are looking for that coming, we ought to feel and live differently from what we do! Do we really believe what we hear in Church, or is it a dream?”

“I do believe,” said my wife, earnestly—she is a good woman, my wife— “yes, I do believe, but it is just as you say—oh dear! I feel as if I am very worldly—I have so many things to think of.” and she sighed.

So did I, for I knew that I, too, was very worldly. After a pause I said, “Suppose Christ should really come this Christmas, and it should be authoritatively announced that He would be here tomorrow?”

“I think,” said my wife, “there would be some embarrassment on the part of our great men, legislators, and chief councilors, in anticipation of a personal interview. Fancy a meeting of the city council to arrange a reception for the Lord Jesus Christ!”

“Perhaps,” said I, “He would refuse all offers of the rich and great. Perhaps our fashionable churches would plead for His presence in vain. He would not be in palaces.” “Oh!” said my wife, earnestly, “if I thought our money-separates us from Him, I would give it all—yes all—might I only see Him.”

She spoke from the bottom of her heart, and for a moment her face was glorified.

“You will see Him some day,” said I, “and the money that we are willing to give up at a word from Him will not keep Him from us.”

That evening, the thoughts of the waking hours mirrored themselves in a dream.

I seemed to be out walking in the streets, and to be conscious of a strange vague sense of something just declared, of which all were speaking with a suppressed air of mysterious voices.

There was a whispering stillness around. Groups of men stood at the corners of the street and discussed an impending something with suppressed voices.

I heard one say to another, “Really coming? What? Tomorrow?” And the other said, “Yes, tomorrow; on Christmas Day He will be here.”

It was night. The stars were glittering down with a keen, frosty light, the shops glistened in their Christmas array, but the same sense of hushed expectancy pervaded everything. There seemed to be nothing doing, and each person looked wistfully on his neighbor as if to say, “Have you heard?”

Suddenly, as I walked, an angel form was with me, gliding softly by my side. The face was solemn, serene, and cairn. Above the forehead was a pale, tremulous, phosphorous radiance of light, purer than any on earth—a light of a quality so different from that of the street lamps that my celestial attendant seemed to move in a sphere alone.

Yet, though I felt awe, I felt a sort of confiding love as I said, “Tell me—is it really true? Is Christ coming?”

“He is,” said the angel, “Tomorrow He will be here!” “What joy!” I cried.

“Is it joy?” said the Angel. “Alas, to many in this city it is only terror! Come with me.”

In a moment I seemed to be standing with him in a room of one of the chief palaces of the city. A stout, florid, baldheaded man was seated at a table covered with papers, which he was sorting over with nervous anxiety, muttering to himself as he did so. On a sofa lay a sad-looking, delicate woman, her emaciated hands clasped over a little book.

The room was, in all its appointments, a witness of boundless wealth. Gold and silver, and gems, and foreign furniture, and costly pictures, and articles of vertu—everything that money could buy was heaped together; and yet the man himself seemed to me to have been neither elevated nor refined by the confluence of all these treasures. He seemed nervous and uneasy. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and spoke:

“I don’t know, wife, how you feel, but I don’t like this news. I don’t understand it. It puts a stop to everything that I know anything about.”

“Oh, John,” said the woman, turning towards him a face pale and fervent, and clasping her hands, “how can you say so?”

And as she spoke I could see breaking out above her head a tremulous light, like that above the brow of an angel.

“Well, Mary, it’s the truth. I don’t care if I say it. I don’t want to meet—well, I wish He would put it off! What does He want of me? I’d be willing to make over—well, three millions to found a hospital, if He’d be satisfied and let me go on. Yes, I’d give three million—to buy off from tomorrow.”

“Is He not our best Friend?”

“Best Friend?” said the man, with a look of half fright, half anger. “Mary, you don’t know what you’re talking about! You know I always hated those things. There’s no use in it. I can’t see into them. In fact, I hate them.”

She cast on him a look full of pity. “Cannot I make you see?” she said.

“No, indeed, you can’t. Why look here,” he added, pointing to the papers, “here is what stands for millions! Tonight it’s mine, and tomorrow it will be all so much waste paper, and then what have I left? Do you think can I rejoice? I’d give half; I’d give—yes, the whole, not to have Him come these hundred years.” She stretched out her thin hand towards him, but he pushed it back.

“Do you see,” said the angel to me, solemnly, “between him and her there is a ‘Great gulf fixed?’ They have lived in one house with that gulf between them for years! She cannot go to him; he cannot come to her. Tomorrow she will rise to Christ as a dewdrop to the sun, and he will call to the mountains and rocks to fall on him—not because Christ hates him, but because he hates Christ.”

Again the scene was changed. We stood together in a little low attic, lighted by one small lamp—how poor it was! — a broken chair, a rickety table, a bed in the corner, where the little ones were cuddling close to one another for warmth. Poor things, the air was so frosty that their breath congealed upon the bed-clothes as they talked in soft, baby voices! “When mother comes, she will bring us some supper,” said they. “But I’m so cold!” said the little outsider. “Get in the middle, then,” said the other two, “and we’ll warm you. Mother promised she’d make a fire when she came in if that man would pay her.” “What a bad man he is,” said the oldest boy; “he never pays mother if he can help it.”

Just then the door opened, and a pale, thin woman came in, laden with packages.

She laid all down, and came to her children’s bed, clasping her hands in rapture.

“Joy, joy! children! Oh, joy! joy! Christ is coming! He will be here tomorrow.”

Every little bird in the nest was up, and the little arms around the mother’s neck; the children believed at once. They had heard of the good Jesus. He had been their mother’s only Friend through many a cold and hungry day, and they doubted not He was coming.

“Oh, mother, will He take us? He will won’t He?”

“Yes, my little ones,” she said, softly, smiling to herself; “He shall gather the lambs with His arms, and carry them in His bosom.”

Suddenly again, as by the slide of a magic-lantern, another scene was present.

We stood in a lonely room, where a woman was sitting with her head bowed forward upon her hands. Alone, forsaken, slandered, she was in bitterness of spirit. Hard, cruel tongues had spoken her name with vile assertions, and a thoughtless world had believed. There had been a babble of accusations, a crowd to rejoice in iniquity, and few to pity. She thought herself alone, and she spoke: — “Judge me, O Lord, for I have walked in my integrity. I am as a monster unto many, but Thou art my strong refuge.”

In a moment the angel touched her. “My sister,” he said, “be of good cheer. Christ will be here tomorrow.”

She started up, with her hands clasped, her eyes bright, her whole form dilated, as she seemed to look into the heavens, and said with rapture, “Come, Lord, and judge me, for Thou knowest me altogether. Come, Son of Man, in Thee have I trusted; let me never be confounded. Oh, for the judgment seat of Christ!”

Again, I stood in a brilliant room, full of luxuries. Three or four fair women were standing pensively talking with each other. Their apartment was bestrewn with jewelry, laces, silks, velvets, and every fanciful elegance of fashion; but they looked troubled.

“This seems to me really awful,” said one, with a suppressed sigh. “What troubles me is, I know so little about it.”

“Yes,” said another, “and it puts a stop so to everything! Of what use will all these be tomorrow?”

There was a poor seamstress in the corner of the room, who now spoke. “We shall be ever with the Lord,” she said.

“I’m sure I don’t know what that can mean,” said the first speaker with a kind of shudder, “it seems rather fearful.”

“Well,” said the other, “it seems so sudden—when one never dreamed of any such thing—to change all at once from this to that other life.”

“It is enough to be with Him,” said the poor woman. “Oh, I have so longed for it!”

“The great gulf,” again said the angel.

Then again, we stood on the steps of a Church. 1 band of clergymen were together—men of all Christian denominations—Old School and New School all stood hand in hand.

“It’s no matter now about these old issues,” they said.

“He is coming, He will settle all. Ordinations and ordinances, sacraments, creeds, are but the scaffolding of the edifice: They are the shadow—the substance is Christ!” And, hand in hand, they turned their faces when the Christmas morning light began faintly glowing, and I heard, them saying together, with one heart and one voice, “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly!” Selected.

Fragment.

“HOW foolish to listen to the enemy’s whisper that you are too great a sinner for Christ to save. He came to save the lost: can you be worst than ‘lost’? What does not ‘lost’ include? Think of the Samaritan; of the sinful woman in a city; of Mary of Magdala: all desperate cases, each different from the other; all saved, and given to know it; and all recorded that you, too, may believe and be saved. They were each saved ‘by grace,’ God’s grace and not theirs, and ‘through faith,’ not feelings, or love, or service, or sacraments.”

W. K.

THEN trust Him for today

As thine unfailing Friend,

And let Him lead thee all the way,

Who loveth to the end.

And let the morrow rest

In His beloved hand;

His good is better than our best,

As we shall understand—

If, trusting Him who faileth never,

We rest on Him, today, forever!

F. R. H.

"Thou and I."

A SPARK may be ignited by a burning-glass direct from the sun. The sun is large and all-powerful among the planets, and the spark is small and poor and hovers on the brink of extinction, and yet the two have the same qualities. “That ye may be partakers of the divine nature.” That truth lies at the center of the conception of the Church of Christ. Evil is strong, enemies are many, human nature is weak, and we will not refuse any helps we can get from one another, but the limit is clear and stringent that there must be no intervention between the individual soul and God. For a parable of living beauty which conveys the truth more fully and more accurately than words can do, look at any meadow in the spring. See the sun in the sky, and see the field of buttercups beneath, each one gazing open-eyed, and filled to the brim with light. As a whole it appears like “the field of the cloth of gold,” yet it is entirely formed of individual flowers stretching upward toward the abundant life that is being poured down upon them. That is the ideal relation between our Lord and His Church. That relation must be kept at any price, and any encroachment, any offer of mediation must be resisted. Not a cloud must wander in that stainless sky, but the inner principle must ever be, “Thou and I,” God and the soul, a sacred solitude, a hiding Under the shadow of His wings. It is a purely positive experience.

“Thou art my hiding-place. Thou shalt preserve me from trouble. Thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance.” (Ps. 32:7.) In this one verse we have three times “Thou” and three times “me” and that is the hidden secret of power. Let us ever keep in mind that “Thou and I” is the very center of religion.

It is obvious that by dealing with the Saviour alone we, as it were automatically, join the Church, and not that by voluntarily joining the Church we find we have come to the Saviour.

C. M.

Let Us Pray.

THE very air is full of adoration,

God’s glory nature sings,

And bird and flower and all the wide creation

Some lowly tribute brings;

But never yet, from beast or bird

Or flower, the voice of prayer was heard.

Bright angels and archangel, in their places

Before the sapphire throne,

In perfect worship bow with veiled facts;

His majesty they own.

Most eloquent in praises they!

But stainless angels do not pray.

Where saints redeemed, arrayed in robes of whiteness.

Uplift their anthems high.

One theme is heard throughout that Home of brightness,

“Worthy the Lamb!” their cry.

But sin and care have passed away

For them; no longer do they pray.

‘Tis man alone, man, laden with transgression,

This priestly censer bears,

The sweet prerogative of intercession

With Christ Himself he shares.

Forgiven, though he went astray,

Redeemed man is taught to pray.

The hoary age its weary way is taking,

And hearts are sad and sore:

Arise, oh saints, your supplications making

At Heaven’s wide open door!

The twilight falleth soft and gray,

The world is needy; let us pray!

A few brief years, a few more waves of sorrow,

A few petitions more,

And then for us shall dawn that blessed morrow

Upon the peaceful shore.

Come, let us plead with God today,

In heaven we shall not need to pray.

Lucy A. Bennett (by permission).

Delivered.

“I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me.” Psalm 34:4.

THE first deliverance recorded in this Psalm is from all fears. The second is out of all troubles. And the third is out of all afflictions.

“He delivered me from all my fears.” “I also will choose their delusions, and will bring their fears upon them” is the only other occasion where this Hebrew word “fears” occurs again in the Old Testament. The Variorum Version and Spurrell render this passage as “I also will choose freaks of fortune for them, and what they dread will I bring upon them”: thus specially connecting fear with dread of financial misfortune. But David declares that the Lord delivers not only from that, but from all fears, from all anxiety, from all painful feelings caused by expectation of evil or the apprehension of impending danger.

“The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles.” This Hebrew word for trouble signifies straitness; that is a position of hardship, distress, or difficulty; or a distressing necessity. The Lord delivereth out of all straitness, out of all distressing necessity. Out of all straitness, whether it be of requisite money, or of strength, or of time to do the needed work, or of spiritual food required to pass on to others; the Lord delivereth out of all distressing necessity.

“Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of them all.” Here the word employed for afflictions signifies evil, bad; and is elsewhere translated hurt, hurtful, grievous, harm. Many are the devices of Satan to injure us, but out of them all the Lord delivers.

Two conditions are given in this Psalm for this wonderful threefold deliverance, from all fears, from all straitness, and from all evil. The one is fearing God; and the other is crying to God. “The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him, and delivereth them.”

To cry to God for deliverance is essential; but the cry, in order to be availing, must be from one who fears God. “Now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld.” Obedience to God’s Voice, whatever may be the cost to ourselves, that is fearing God.

These are days when men’s hearts are failing them for fear, and for looking alter those things which are coming to pass on the earth. But for those who cry to God, and whose inner life behind that cry is one that bears the scrutiny of Him Whose eyes are as a flame of fire, God is unto them a God Who unfailingly delivers magnificently, not only from all evil, but from every haunting fear of it.

Aphra White.

Pray, Always Pray.

THERE is no way to learn to pray but by praying. No reasoned philosophy of prayer ever taught a soul to, pray. The subject is beset with problems, but there: are no problems of prayer to the man who prays. They are all met in the fact of answered prayer and the joy of fellowship with God. We know not what we should pray for as we ought, and if prayer waits for understanding, it will never begin. We live by faith. We walk by faith.

Prayer is an acknowledgment of faith; worry is a denial of faith. Prayer is putting my hand in God’s, trusting to His loving guidance; worry is withdrawing my hand, and denying His power to lead me. Prayer leads through the door of faith into the presence of God; worry leads through the door of anxiety into the darkness of loneliness and discouragement. If prayer rules the life victory results.

Only One Door Away, but Lost.

A YOUNG Filipino, twenty-two years of age, traveled to Chicago recently and registered at Hotel Sherman. Taking a walk around the business district of the city, he became lost. He was ignorant of the name, location and appearance of the hotel, and so was unable to find it again.

Consequently, it was necessary to secure another room and he selected one in Hotel Astor, which is next door to the Sherman. Then, unwilling to acknowledge to the authorities that he was lost, he tried five days to find the place where he had deposited his baggage. But being unsuccessful in his attempts, he was finally compelled to appeal to the police, as his time was limited and his belongings valuable.

The police soon found his original registration and informed him that for five days he had been living right next door to the place where he had left his baggage. Although so near, he lost five days’ peace of mind, five days’ time, and five days’ use of his baggage, all because he would not tell an officer that he was lost.

The Filipino should have had no hesitancy in appealing to the police because it is part of their duty to assist those who have lost their way. And no one need entertain fears about approaching the Lord and confessing: “I have gone astray like a lost sheep” (Psa. 119:176), for the Lord Himself said: “The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.” (Luke 19:10.)

All who do not understand God’s simple way of salvation are lost, according to these words of the Apostle Paul: “If our gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost; in whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them that believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, should shine unto them.” (2 Cor. 4:3, 4.) They are not eternally lost unless they continue in and die in that condition. They are spiritually lost and blinded. It is because they will not confess their lost condition that they remain unsaved and are strangers to the blessings that “accompany salvation.”

Like the young Filipino, many seek in their own strength and wisdom to find their way, but, regardless of how long and sincerely they attempt it, they only meet with failures. “For when we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly.” (Rom. 5:6.)

The lost Filipino was only a door away from the place which he desired to find. He passed the door in his search, but not recognizing it he never entered it. The Lord Jesus said: “I am the door; by Me, if any man enter in, he shall be saved.” (John N. 9.) “Thou art not far from the Kingdom of God” (Mark 12:34), is true of numbers today. They have heard and read of the Lord Jesus, and even speak of Him, but they fail to recognize Him as the Door of Salvation and therefore do not enter in. In other words, they do not accept Him as their personal and sufficient Saviour. They regard the Church, the preacher, the ordinances, or good works as the means of salvation and so miss it. The Lord Jesus said: “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No man cometh unto the Father, but by Me.” (John 14:6.)

May every lost one who reads these lines be perfectly willing to confess his lost condition and come to God by Jesus Christ alone and be saved. “Neither is there salvation in any other; for there is none other Name under heaven, given among men whereby we must be saved.” (Acts 4:12.)