Children of Scripture

Yes; my book is for Children, and it is about Children: but the Children I have written for are not the Children I have written about. I have written for all kinds of Children—Poor Children, Rich Children, Sick Children, Well Children, Happy Children, Sorrowful Children, Lonely Children, Thoughtful Children, and even those Children who scarcely can sit quiet long enough to think about anything—shall I say Thoughtless Children? but I hope that even they will read or hear my book, and will think a few thoughts about it; for though they love to run and jump and laugh, I hope they also love, or at least seek, to obey, and that when Mamma or some friend says, "Now Fanny," or Charlie, or whatever the name of this lively child may be (and I dare say if I filled a page with names there would be children found to answer to each one of them), "You must sit down and be quiet," they will be glad to look into my book during the quiet moment.

So you see I have written for all kinds of Children, and every one of you may say, "This book was written for Me!"

But what Children have I written about?

Not nearly so large a number.

The number of the first company I cannot tell; the number of the second is small, and, with a very few exceptions, those in it are the most honored of all Children.

Why do I call these Children honored?

Because of the place in which I find them.

If you walked through the streets of a large city, how many, many children you would meet, and you would not know much about them; but if, as you walked along, you saw children looking out from the windows of the houses in which they lived, you would know more about them; and your thoughts about the children who looked out from the windows of some palace or great mansion would be very different from your thoughts about the children who looked out from the windows of poor little cottages or dismal garrets.

Now, I find the Children of whom I have written in a place above all palaces and all mansions: I find them in the pages of God's Holy Book, the Bible; and this is why I call them honored, and this is why I am anxious to occupy your thoughts with them; for if God has graciously condescended to tell us about such simple things as Children—Children's needs, Children's faults, Children's sorrows, Children's blessing—He surely means that Children, in all times, should gain special instruction from such parts of His Wonderful Book.

Chapter 1: Moses (Or, God's Tender Care)

“THE Lord is good to all, and his tender mercies are over all his works."

“The eyes of all wait upon thee, and thou givest them their meat in due season."

“Thou openest thine hand and satisfiest the desire of every living thing." (Psa. 145:9, 15, 16.)

“Oh! how God delights in giving,
Little helpless one, to thee!
Every moment that you're living,
Some kind gift from Him you see.
All the care, so fond, so tender;
All the love which round you flows,
He makes loving hearts to render—
For your infant need He knows."

Children's Hymn Book

Acts 7:9-23; Ex. 2; Heb. 11:23, 27

ACT 7:9-23EXO 2HEB 11:23, 27EVERY child has, I am sure, seen a Baby. What a little soft helpless thing it looks as it lies sleeping in its Mother's arms!

If you have a baby brother or a baby sister, do you not love it very much and feel quite pleased if, just as you come softly up to peep into its cradle, it awakes, and coos at you, or stretches its tiny hand towards you?

What constant tender care the little one needs; it cannot think, or care for itself; another must care for it. It has nothing and it can do nothing; but one precious thing accompanies every baby that is born into the world, and it is this: God's Tender Care, which stands as the title to my chapter about Moses; for the story of Moses begins at the time when he was a little baby.

How wonderful that God, in recording the history of this great prophet, should have thought of telling us about him as a little baby!

Poor little child! He was born in a time of much trouble; his parents, though they prized their beautiful baby, could not look at him without feelings of sorrow, for the King of Egypt-the mighty Pharaoh, of whom, indeed, it might be said, that he feared not God nor regarded man, was the cruel enemy of their helpless child.

Pharaoh feared not God; he knew not the all-seeing Eye which took note of every thought of his wicked heart, and beheld every action of his cruel hand; he also regarded not man; in vain would it have been for Amram, the child's father, to reason with him, in vain for Jochabed to weep and plead with him to spare her child. He had given commandment that every son of an Israelite was to be killed the moment it was born.

Amram and Jochabed were Israelites; they belonged to the tribe of Levi, who was the third son of Jacob or Israel. Joseph, the youngest but one of the sons of Israel, had held a post of high honor in the land of Egypt: when Jacob had left the famine-stricken land of Canaan to dwell with his sons and his grandchildren in Egypt, he and all his had been received with favor by the Pharaoh who then was king.

Gen. 47:6, tells us how this Pharaoh felt towards the father and brethren of Joseph. “The land of Egypt is before thee: in the best of the land make thy father and brethren to dwell; in the land of Goshen let them dwell;" but Ex. 1:6, tells us that "Joseph died and all his brethren, and all that generation." Then “there arose up a new king over Egypt which knew not Joseph."

This Pharaoh saw how the people of Israel prospered, how they increased in numbers; they were also, very likely, superior in appearance and bodily power to the Egyptians, for the Israelites were descendants of Shem, that son of Noah whom God had especially blessed; the Egyptians, on the contrary, were descended from Ham, the son who had been punished by the curse of God, though they were among the best, not the lowest of Ham's descendants.

So Pharaoh saw the prosperity of the Israelites, and he began to fear them and to plan a way to distress them; he said, “Let us deal wisely with them." But was it wise to fear and to hate the people of God? How much wiser would this king have been, had he learned instead to fear and love the God who could so preserve His own people, notwithstanding all that was done to afflict them. But Pharaoh learned nothing; when one of his plans failed he tried another until, at last, he invented the cruel and wicked plan of drowning all the little Hebrew sons as soon as they were born, and it was at this time that Moses was born.

An exceedingly beautiful child he was; and was he to be cast into the great river of Egypt and drowned? Could not the God who had given the child also preserve him from the hand of Pharaoh?

Amram and Jochabed knew that God could do this, so by faith they hid their little son, and were not afraid of the king's commandment. You may think how sad it was for them to be obliged to hide their baby, how little the mother would care to go out when she could not take the child with her, how she would fear to speak to any one lest she should betray the secret, and how, in some quiet moment when she sat with the child in her arms, her heart would beat quickly at the sound of a strange voice or an approaching footstep.

Perhaps you have tried at some time to keep a secret; it might have been a little tiny secret, but it felt so big in your heart that you were almost afraid to open your mouth lest it should come tumbling out, before you were aware of it, I hope you have never tried to keep a secret that made your heart beat quickly and the color flush to your face when you heard some one coming, for I think that might be a bad secret. Was yours a bad secret? Ah; never say you could not tell whether your secret was a good one or a bad one. Could you speak to God about it? By this you may always know.

Jochabed, no doubt, often spoke to God about her little hidden baby, and we may be sure that those “eyes of the Lord which run to and fro throughout the whole earth to show themselves strong" for those who trust in Him, often rested on the child whom He could see, though Pharaoh could not. The tender care of God, like a sheltering cloud, preserved this helpless little one then, as it keeps you now, from the many, many dangers which surround you; though, because of that tender care, you may never know anything about them.

The houses in Egypt were not built like the houses of England. Sometimes the poorer houses were made without any roofs; this, in England, would be dreadful, because we are constantly exposed to cold and rain, but the land of Egypt is hot, and rain very seldom falls there; perhaps Jochabed's house may have been one without a roof, for the Israelites at that time were treated as slaves, and would certainly not have houses of the best kind.

A house without a roof would have been a difficult place to keep anything unseen in, but, however this was, when the child was three months old his mother could no longer hide him. The time was come when she must give him up out of her own keeping, and leave him entirely to the care of God.

You will see, as the story goes on, that he was made in this very way, though it seemed so unfortunate, to be much safer than he could have been while kept from Pharaoh only by the watchfulness of his parents—

"All things work together for good to them that love God."

Jochabed could not read these words, which have expressed the faith and comforted the hearts of so many in later years, but God no doubt comforted her heart, for what she did she was doing by faith, and faith always looks up to God, and always gets some answer from God.

Amram and Jochabed lived close to the Nile, which is the only river of Egypt. Its banks were, at that time, covered with a very useful plant, a kind of reed or rush, having long, narrow, flag-like leaves and very tall thick stalks, and from these stalks the boats which sailed on the Nile were made. Jochabed, I dare say, had made mats and baskets with the stalks of this plant, and these are the “bull-rushes " of which the little ark was made that was now to be the cradle for Moses.

It must have been a sad day for the Mother when, having lined the bull-rush ark with slime and pitch to keep out the water, she laid her precious little baby in it and carried it out of the house to the banks of the Nile; there "she laid it in the flags by the river's brink."

I once knew of a precious little baby who was lost. You may wonder how this was. A thoughtless person, not the baby's own nurse, had gone out one cold winter's day and taken it with her without asking leave, and as the baby had been ill and had been very carefully kept, we were very much afraid lest it should take cold. Its little sister found the time very long as she stood watching anxiously from a window that looked down the road, and some one, seeing the sad little face, to comfort her said, “I think Jane will take care of the baby."

The little girl looked earnestly round to the speaker and said, “No, I don't think Jane will, but I think God will take care of the baby;" and I am sure you will be glad to know that, soon afterward, the baby was brought back, and the tender care that was over it had kept it from all harm. Perhaps this same thought, “God will take care of the baby," comforted Jochabed's heart as she turned away from the river's side where she had placed the precious little cradle. She dared not remain beside it herself, for that might have attracted the notice of the Egyptians, but Miriam, the sister of Moses, stood a little way off to watch what would next happen. The flags of the Nile are often taller than the tallest man, so Miriam could easily stand among them unseen; how long she waited there we are not told, but I think she would watch with all her heart. Would not you, if your little baby brother lay hidden, and your mother had trusted you to stay by and see what would happen to him?

All sorts of people might pass close to where Miriam and the baby were; some might have come down to get water from the river, some to cut the stalks of the papyrus, for this was the name of the bull-rush plant which grew beside the Nile; how eagerly Miriam would watch them and perhaps she would tremble lest some rough-looking Egyptian should come suddenly upon her and the little bull-rush ark; but none could find it, none could see it, for the tender care was over it still, like a sheltering cloud, until the one appointed by God to be the protector of Moses, and indeed the only one who could have protected him from the cruel authority of Pharaoh, was brought, by the hand she knew not, to the very spot where he lay.

Miriam presently saw a little company of women coming towards her, nearer and nearer; not Israelites nor Egyptian laborers, but a lady attended by her servants; a very grand lady, for it was none other than the Princess, the daughter of Pharaoh. On she walked to the river's edge, for she was come to bathe: she reached the very spot where the little ark was, and, at once, she saw it.

What could be there, so carefully covered and yet laid in so strange a place?

She sent her maid to fetch it, "and when she had opened it, she saw the child."

Yes, Pharaoh's daughter saw Moses; he was no longer hidden. He could not know, poor helpless baby, what a moment of danger that was; he could do nothing to free himself from the strange hands that touched him, and not a word could he say to implore their pity, but he spoke in baby fashion, to the heart which God was making soft and kind towards the lonely child. The babe wept, and she had compassion on him and said, “This is one of the Hebrews' children."

Now was Miriam's time: she had watched patiently and listened carefully, she saw that the daughter of Pharaoh looked kindly at the weeping babe, and now it was for her to come bravely out from her hiding-place; and how wisely she spoke: "Shall I go and call to thee a nurse of the Hebrew women, that she may nurse the child for thee?" “And Pharaoh's daughter said to her, Go."

Miriam no doubt went on her errand with a joyful heart and willing steps, and whom do you think she fetched? Whom should you have fetched? Whom, but the baby's own Mother!

Jochabed was ready to obey the call, you may be sure, and soon returned to the spot where, a short time before, she had so carefully hidden the babe among the flags. Now, the Princess and her maidens stood round the ark, and Pharaoh's daughter was waiting to commit the child, as her own, to Jochabed's care.

“Take this child," said the Princess, "and nurse it for me, and I will give thee thy wages."

Jochabed, of course, did not want wages to make her willing to nurse her own beloved little son, but now she was to take him to nurse for Pharaoh's daughter, and take him as given back to her, in that way, by the tender hand of God, in whose safe keeping she had left him in faith a few hours before.

We read that it was the mother who hid the child, who took the ark of bull-rushes and laid it in the flags by the river's brink, but in Heb. 11 we are told that his "parents" did all this by faith, so no doubt Amram took part with Jochabed in all her labors, her fears, and her faith, but he may only have been able to share in heart with the Mother, for the Israelite men were forced to work very hard in making great numbers of bricks for the Egyptian king; Egyptian taskmasters were set over them and, as was the custom with regard to slaves, the Israelites were severely beaten if they did not make as many bricks as were required of them.

Besides making bricks, the Israelites built two cities for Pharaoh. The names of these cities were Pithon and Raamses, and in them Pharaoh kept treasures, or stores of grain and other things which the fruitful land of Egypt produced in abundance.

For God “maketh his sun to shine upon the evil and the good."

But Pharaoh considered not, while he unthankfully stored up these good things for himself, and the taskmasters considered not, while they distressed and ill-used the poor Israelite slaves, that “God heard their groaning," and the day was coming when the God of heaven and earth would deliver the defenseless slaves, and would punish the cruel oppressors.

For "He that planted the ear, shall he not hear? He that formed the eye, shall he not see?"

We, too, do well to consider whether we ever cause a tear or a sigh that God will see or hear with displeasure. Children, of course, have not anything like the power of Pharaoh and the taskmasters, but God sees and marks your little ways just as He marked the great works of the Egyptian king; He knows whether you take thankfully or unthankfully all that with which His goodness surrounds you, and whether you ever cause those who care for you (and who perhaps endure hardships and labors on your account) to shed tears. It would be sad indeed if sighs should go up to God, instead of the thanks that are due, from the children who daily need and daily enjoy the Tender Care of God.

Amram had, no doubt, sighed many a sigh that had gone up to God on the day when Jochabed laid their little son by the river's brink. He could not expect the joyful surprise that awaited him when, at last, the weary day's work was ended, and he could return to his home-the sweet baby unharmed by its mother's side and no longer hidden, no longer in danger, but to be nursed for the daughter of Pharaoh himself.

You may be sure that the child had careful tending, and he grew until at last he was old enough to be taken back to the Princess. She received him kindly. She was not going to make a slave of him, as often was done with little stranger children who were brought to the palaces of kings, he became her son, and she gave him the name of Moses, “Because," she said, "I drew him out of the water."

Thus Moses obtained the place of a son in the palace of that Pharaoh who once had desired his death, for “The king's heart is in the hand of the Lord as the rivers of water; he turneth it whithersoever he will."

Pharaoh was not a name belonging especially to this king. It was a name which meant king, and was given to a great number of those who ruled over Egypt. The king had, besides this title, his own name as Thothmes, Amenophis, or Amosis, but which of such names belonged to the proud and powerful Pharaoh, who to secure his own welfare did not hesitate to condemn the little Hebrew children to a dreadful death, is still a matter of dispute among those who have studied the history of Egypt.

The name of the little rescued child, Moses, is known in all lands, while the name of his oppressor has perished. And the name of one little child who trusts in Jesus will be remembered, when names great among men are forgotten forever; for of those who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ it is said:

"Your names are written in heaven." If we have loved His name, He too remembers our names: as this little hymn says.

“Jesus, my Lord! I know Thy name,

Thy name is all my trust;

Thou wilt not put my soul to shame,

Nor let my hope be lost.

Firm as Thy life the promise stands,

And Thou canst well secure

What I've committed to Thy hands

Till the appointed hour.

Then wilt Thou own me by my name

Before Thy Father's face;

And in the new Jerusalem

Give to my soul its place."

Moses was given a share in all the pleasures and all the instructions which the Egyptian palace could afford. He must have had a great deal to learn, many a hard task to master, for the Egyptians were a skilful people, and we read that "Moses was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, and was mighty in words and in deeds."

Some of the things that you learn now, or may have to learn as you grow older, were perhaps learned by Moses, but the reading and writing taught to him was very different from what you have learned. The Egyptians used curious signs like little drawings to express their meaning: when they wanted the letter A, they would draw an eagle; for S, the back of a chair; U was a little duck. Sometimes the picture meant a whole word: a roll of papyrus tied round in the middle meant Book.

Perhaps this seems to you very funny. Do you think you would like these signs better than your own Alphabet? I think the letters we have are more convenient.

Painting, Architecture, Astronomy, and many other useful things were known to the Egyptians, and would come in among the lessons of Moses, but, in the midst of all the grandeur and wisdom and enjoyment, Moses was just as dependent on the Tender Care of God as he had been when he was the weeping baby in the bull-rush ark

What but that Tender Care could have preserved him from the foolish idolatry and wickedness of the Egyptian palace? It was the teaching of God, not the teaching of Pharaoh, which caused him, when he had come to years, to refuse to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter—"Choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures in Egypt."

Here the story of the Child Moses ends, but the story of God's Tender Care never ends, and that story is not the history of Moses only, it is my history, it is your history:— Oh! what a sweet, safe, happy history.

Yes, though you might be one of the sorrowful children, or the poor children, for whom among others you know I am writing, yet what a happy story you may read of your life if you are reading it as the story of the Tender Care of God. And though you may be the happy child, with a loving mother, a kind father, brothers and sisters, a home where all the needs of your mind and body are supplied by those who know them better than you can; all these mercies are not to replace but to teach you the Care of God.

Perhaps you have been thinking that you are not in any danger as Moses was, or perhaps you have said to yourself, “A little helpless baby needs constant care, but I am not helpless." I can quite believe that you are not; that it seems to you more difficult to keep those hands and feet still than to move them: but what do you think of those parts of you which are never told to keep still? What about that heart that goes on, beat, beat, beat, all day and all night long, and must never, never stop? And what about that gentle breathing, up and down, up and down, those lungs that move a hundred muscles in your body, with every breath you draw? Ah, whether it be Belshazzar, the King, wasting in thoughtlessness the last hour of his life, or you, sitting with this book in your safe, snug corner, it is still—"God in whose hand thy breath is."

And then, through the long quiet hours of night, when darkness fills the home, when all the dear ones who care for you, and you yourself, are sleeping fast and still, how precious is that Tender Care of God!

I think you would like to hear of two little children, and how they were kept one night from a danger which drew very near to them: little French children they were, and they lived in a white-washed red-tiled fisherman's cottage, near the edge of a high cliff.

Their Mother had put them into their snug bed, and there they lay sleeping side by side. The beating of waves against the cliff did not disturb them, for they had been used to it all through their little lives, and though the waves roared louder and gusts of wind howled wildly as a great storm arose, the children heard nothing; and when loud peals of thunder rolled right over the red-tiled roof, the little children beneath it still slept on; and the lightning which sparkled through cracks in the shutters was unseen by them.

But there is One who neither slumbers nor sleeps, who "maketh the clouds his chariots and walketh upon the wings of the wind:" His eye was on the sleepers. A terrible roll of thunder shook the little cottage, even while the glaring flash of lightning filled the room; the current of lightning passed through the very bed in which the children lay, but at the foot, just beyond them. The bed was scorched and broken, but the children remained unhurt.

I wonder if there was any one to speak to them of Him who makes “a way for the lightning of the thunder," and whose hand, in tender care, had kept them that night.

Perhaps you know this little verse:—

“The morning bright with rosy light
Has waked me from my sleep;
Father I own Thy love alone,
Thy little one doth keep."

But this Care of God does not always send away the dangers and difficulties, because God is caring not only for our bodies but for our souls also, that precious part of you which will never cease to know and feel as your body may, and by the dangers and difficulties which sometimes lie in your pathway, like stones in the road, or which sometimes you may have got into when carelessness or self-will has led your feet into paths not meant for you, you learn many things. A very little stone in the way would upset the tiny child who is just beginning to walk, if it were not held up by a strong hand, but when it gets beyond a quite tiny child it runs alone, and the little stones it safely passed before give it many a tumble, and then the strong hand comes to pick it up; but at last, through the trips and tumbles and scratches and bruises, it learns to walk with ease as it never would have done if it had been always held by the two strong arms which were around it when it took its first tottering steps. Sometimes a child learns how patient, wise, and watchful is the Care of God, by finding himself delivered out of a trouble into which his own ignorance, or weakness, or heedlessness has brought him, and he learns too that no place is, in itself, safe, but that everywhere, as well as at all times, he has to lean upon the Tender Care of God.

Little Robert was playing, one day, in his father's garden; that would seem to be a very safe place, would it not? but you shall hear the story, and think what would have become of Robert had there been no one to care for him but his own self.

Robert's father had, besides the garden, a large piece of ground on which a dye-house was built. A dye-house, you know, is a great factory where materials of all kinds (as silk, wool, cotton) are dyed or colored. This work requires a great deal of water, and near the dye-house, on one side, there was a large pond which, as it was winter time, was covered with ice; a hole had been made in the ice in order to get at the water beneath, and Robert who, like many other little boys, and I must say girls, was fond of playing with water, was stirring about in this hole with a stick; perhaps he dropped the stick and reached too far after it, or perhaps he slipped on the frozen brink of the pond, I cannot tell you exactly how it happened, but suddenly Robert fell into the watery hole, and the broken ice, like a great hungry mouth, swallowed him up in a moment. This was very near being the end of Robert's little life instead of, as it proved, the opening of a long life; but Robert was wrapped that cold day in a little red cloak, and it caught on the surface of the ice.

Robert's father, in the dye-house, knew nothing of the danger his little boy was in, and he had ordered his workmen all to go, for some business, to a part of the building from which the pond where poor Robert was could not be seen; but the Care which watches over little ones so ordered it that, notwithstanding the orders of the master, some of the workmen were just then close to the windows which looked upon the frozen water, and a workman who saw the little scarlet cloak, wondering what bright thing could be there in the broken ice, ran and pulled out not only the cloak but its poor little wearer, who was by that time almost dying from his long soaking in the icy water?

This little boy learned whose Care it was that had marked his danger when all alone he had slipped into the pond. Was he not something like Moses, drawn out of the water?

Most of you may never have been saved out of any danger such as I have spoken of, but you may look back upon little dangers and little troubles or needs in which you were kept by the Tender Care of God; then do not content yourself with saying—What a good thing I did not hurt myself; or, What a good thing I found what I had lost; or, What a good thing that falling brick fell just at my feet instead of on my head, or that the broken tree fell just at the side where I was not standing; but remember Him whose goodness saved you, and whose hand kept you.

"Could I leave Thy love's enclosure,
Couldst Thou drop me from Thy hand;
Frail as leaf beneath the tempest,
Not one moment could I stand."

Sometimes the child does hurt himself: has he been forgotten by the Tender Care? Oh no, God never forgets. The Care may be hidden in a rough outside, but still it is Tender Care, and, as you grow up, you may find that some of your sweetest lessons of this Tender Care come in rough outsides.

Some kinds of food, you know, are brought to you just ready to eat, but some are covered with what looks very unlike food. If you have ever had a cocoa-nut, you know what hard work had to be done to break the thick, rough shell before you could get at the sweet nut and milk within. Once, when I was a little girl, I was waiting for a music lesson; the hour had struck, but the music-master did not arrive—ten minutes passed, twenty minutes; we felt almost sure the master was not coming, just then he came in, hurried and out of breath.

"I am sorry to be so late, but my little boy has fallen down and broken his leg."

“Where was he?”

“He was in the room with his mother and me, but he climbed on the back of a chair, and fell, with his leg twisted, and broke it; I had often told him that this might happen if he did so."

Ah, perhaps while he lay helpless and suffering, poor little Felix had to learn a lesson of obedience!

But you do not learn your parents' care by falling into fire or water and finding them at hand to rescue you; oh no, it is the every-day looks and words and deeds that teach you the care of your father and mother: the breakfast, prepared for you each morning; the clothes, that are just fitted for you; the warm things, ready when the winter is coming on: the cooler garments that are as welcome in summer's heat; the books for you to read; the playthings and the talk; such a gentle, constant care, that you cannot tell when it began, but find and feel it all around you, just as you find the light of day all round you every morning when you wake.

And so the care of God is to be learned and seen in every-day things; it came round you before you were able to notice its arrival, and it will not, as your parents' care may, ever leave you while you remain a needy creature in this world of needs.

You may grow beyond the need of father's or mother's care: the day may come when you, in your turn, will care for those who once cared for you; but you will never grow too old to need the care of God.

I knew an old man, not long ago, a happy, simple old man; and what were his words, do you think, the day before he died?

He raised himself from the bed in his little cottage room, where he had spent his last winter, and said: "Bless the Lord; He's taken care of me for nearly ninety years; and now He's going to take care of me forever and ever. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits."

His last breath was near, and he wished to use it in blessing God for His Tender Care. Have you ever used your breath in thus thanking the God who cares for you?

Supposing you were to write down all the ways in which you need and find this care of God, you would soon fill a book; and if every child made such a book, how many books there would be! How many children God daily remembers! you could not count them; then, consider the number of men and women of all ages who need the care of God. Oh, what a great multitude! It is a number we cannot even picture to ourselves; yet the men, women and children are but a part of that vast Creation which daily receives from the liberal hand and tender care of God.

Did you ever think of this?

“The eyes of all wait upon thee; and thou givest them their meat in due season. Thou openest thine hand and satisfiest the desire of every living thing."

“He sendeth the springs into the valleys which run among the hills. They give drink to every beast of the field: The wild asses quench their thirst. By them shall the fowls of the heaven have their habitation, which sing among the branches."

“He causeth grass to grow for the Cattle."

Any of you who have lived near a farm may know how much care and feeding cattle and flocks need; what then becomes of those multitudes of God's creatures whom no man ever cares for?

The chamois, among his mountain rocks, whom hand of man can never reach until the sad day when he leaves his lofty home as the prey of the hunter? All the wild beasts? “The young lions roar after their prey and seek their meat from God." Who cares for the “things creeping innumerable," the inhabitants of this great and wide sea? Who supplies the birds in those deep forests where man's foot seldom treads? And the little birds nearer home, who generally make haste to fly away if you come near them? Who "feeds the young ravens when they cry?" Psa. 104:27, 28 will give you the answer to all this.

And then, there are things which cannot cry out; the silent herbs and flowers, growing in the wilderness where there is no man. Who sends down that rain on the earth where no man is? to satisfy the desolate and waste ground, and to cause the bud of the tender herb to spring forth.

It was one of these little bits of green in the wilderness, drinking of the rain of heaven, which once spoke comfort to the heart of a man in deep distress. Mungo Park was his name; a great traveler. He was in the midst of one of the vast deserts which spread over parts of Africa; suddenly a band of robbers surrounded him, and took away all that he possessed, even to his little store of food; and almost all the clothes he had on; then they left him, these wicked, hard-hearted men, alone, but for the neighborhood of the wild beasts which prowled among the thickets. No wonder that, as he looked around him, he was ready to despair; at this moment, his eyes fell upon a beautiful little tuft of moss; this reminded him of the God whose hand had formed and whose care had preserved that tiny thing in freshness and beauty, in so obscure a place; committing himself therefore to that same care he took courage, and, after enduring many hardships, reached a place where he found friends ready to help and protect him.

"All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small;
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all,
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings;
He made their glowing colors,
He made their shining wings."

Yes, dear children, everything which God has made, as well as everything in your own daily life, may speak to you, if your ears are attentive, of His Tender Care, but there is something beyond this, beyond the care that birds and beasts enjoy which God would have you to know. He would have you to know His Love: the Love which has made a way for you to be brought near to Him, a way by which you can know what His heart feels about you. All the gifts you see around you, great as they may be, are not great enough or good enough to make known to you the Love of God.

Only one Gift is great enough for this—It is the Gift of Jesus.

“God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

"In this was manifested the love of God towards us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world that we might live through him. Herein is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be a propitiation for our sins."

Yes, that Gift of God, even Jesus, who died for us, that we might have all our sins forgiven, and might be made clean and fit for God, is the only way by which we can know the Love of God. Every child who trusts in Jesus is a child of God; he can know God as his Father. And every child is invited to trust in Jesus, and to share in the Love of God, for Jesus said, “It is not the will of your Father which is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish."

“Oh! listen to His voice,
And trust in His great love;
Down to your little heart it comes
From His great heart above;
To make you free from all the sin,
And holy, happy, safe with Him."

It is sweet to know the Care of God, but that would not be enough for you, your heart needs to know the Love of God; the Love from which nothing will then be able to separate you, the love which will never drop you, but will keep you safe and happy forever and ever: for Jesus, the Good Shepherd, who gave His life for the Sheep, said, "I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand."

How very sweet is the Tender Care of God to the heart of the child who has believed on the Lord Jesus Christ, for it is the Care of your Father who loves you, and “Your Father knoweth what things ye have need of."

Alone, by Egypt's river's brink,

The helpless infant lies

No mother near to tend or cheer,

Or soothe his feeble cries.

Who shall befriend, preserve him there?

He rests beneath God's Tender Care.

Among the tall Papyrus flags,

His sister, Miriam, stands:

She waits to see who next will be

Brought there by His commands;

Who ruleth all things everywhere,

And keeps the Child beneath His Care.

He mightiest foes to friends can turn;

Though Pharaoh's daughter come,

The Babe shall find her heart is kind,

Her palace now his home;

The danger o'er; but even there

He needs, he tastes God's Tender Care.

And whether kept by parents' love

We dwell in sheltered home,

Or day by day, on life's rough way,

With lonely heart may roam;

In every age, and everywhere,

We need alike God's Tender Care.

Not one too great this Care to need,

Too small this Care to have;

No distant place it can't embrace,

No time it cannot save;

From infancy to hoary hair,

Each hour we live by Tender Care.

The thirsty flower in desert soil,

The dewdrop cloth provide.

The Raven's cry brings his supply;

All Nature's satisfied:

Birds, beasts and flowers daily share

The great Creator's Tender Care.

But we are called, by faith in Christ

Who died for us, to know

Th' Eternal Love, that from above,

Doth all this care bestow-

The blessedness of those who share,

As children, in a Father's Care.

Chapter 2: Samuel (Or the Subject Place)

“YE younger, submit yourselves unto the elder: yea, all of you be subject one to another, and be clothed with humility." (1 Peter 5:5.)

“The bird that soars on highest wing.
Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
And she that cloth most sweetly sing,
Sings in the shade when all things rests.
In lark and nightingale we see,
What honor hath Humility."

(1 SAMUEL 1, 2, 3)

1SA 1, 2, 3AMONG all the Children of Scripture there is none, I think, more known or loved than “Little Samuel." How many pictures of Samuel have been made! And if you have ever seen a man go by with a tray of white plaster images on his head, there is sure to be at least one "Little Samuel" among them. However, as the Bible says nothing about Samuel's appearance, none of the pictures or images can be at all really like him; and we shall know Samuel better by considering what God has told us about his words and ways, than by looking at a picture or image of what a man fancies his face and figure to have been.

In the story of Moses we looked at the Care that is around you; the story of Samuel will, I hope, bring a few thoughts about the Place you are in.

Shall you be surprised to hear that you are in the same place that Samuel once was in? All children are in this place, a little, quiet, lowly place, this Subject Place, but it is a safe, happy useful place: it is not a place such as you may see with your eyes, but one which your mind will do well to consider, and I hope you will like to think about this place, its furniture, its duties, its ornaments, and the dress which suits it.

Samuel, like Moses, is shown to us first as a baby; and even before God gave Hannah the little son we read of her desires, her tears and her prayers, for Hannah, like Jochabed, was a woman of faith; and when the child was born Hannah called his name Samuel, saying, "Because I have asked him of the Lord;" for the name Samuel means "Asked of God."

Elkanah, the father of Samuel, belonged, like Amram, to the tribe of Levi; and little Samuel was born in Canaan, the land which God had so many years before promised to Abraham and to his seed, and to which he had led the people of Israel about 300 years before the birth of Samuel.

It was from Egypt that the Israelites had come to Canaan, and Ramah, Samuel's home, was two or three hundred miles distant from that little spot by the river's brink where the infant Moses had been laid.

Many places in Canaan had the name of Ramah, and this will not surprise you when you hear that Ramah meant a hill; thus, there was Ramah of Gilead, which means the hill of Gilead; and Ramathaim-Zophim, the hills of the watchmen, and one of these Ramahs or hills of the watch men is thought to be the Ramah where Elkanah and Hannah lived, and where the child Samuel was born: this Ramah was not far from the borders of the Plain of Sharon, a lovely, fruitful spot; most of you have heard of the Rose of Sharon. Hannah may have often seen the flower that beautified these plains, but we may think how far more precious in her eyes was the little son whom she had asked of God.

Once every year, Elkanah took a journey, and Hannah went with him. The usual mode of traveling in Canaan, at that time, was on donkeys: the donkey of Eastern countries is a finer animal than our English donkey, though he, too, is a pretty, useful creature when well fed and kindly treated. But how often the poor, patient donkey is unkindly treated! If we remember the Tender Care of God which is over all creatures, that God hears their cry, that not a sparrow falls to the ground without His knowledge, and that in speaking of His compassion for the great city Nineveh, He did not forget the cattle, we shall surely treat with kindness those of His creatures which He allows us to use, or which may, by any means, come in our way.

How hard must be the heart, how forgetful of Him whose tender mercies are over all His works, which can take pleasure in the pain of a poor donkey, a dog, or even a fly!

But I must go on to tell you about the journey of Elkanah and Hannah.

Every year they went to Shiloh: Shiloh was about twelve or fifteen miles to the north-east of Ramah; you may think this a very short journey, for in these busy traveling days you have perhaps already been further than that, but we have Trains, things never dreamed of in the days of Elkanah; how swiftly they take us mile after mile! and we go so quickly that we scarcely consider the number of miles we have passed, but if you and your father were to start at the same time for the same place, and he went by train and you on a donkey, he would have had time to see and to do a great many things before you arrived. So Elkanah and his family would be some hours on their journey, though it was a little one.

And why did they go to Shiloh?

Ah! the most precious thing in Israel was then at Shiloh. The Ark of God, that chest of shittim wood overlaid with pure gold. And what precious things the ark of God contained! The Golden Pot that had manna, Aaron's Rod that budded, and the Tables of the Covenant.

The lid or cover of the ark was not of shittim wood overlaid with gold; it was entirely of pure gold, and perhaps you have already heard the sweet name that it bore: it was called the Mercy Seat.

On each end of the mercy seat was a cherub of gold with wings stretched forth on high covering the mercy seat, and how blessed were the words spoken by God about this

Mercy Seat, Ex. 25:22: “There will I meet with thee, and I will commune with thee from above the mercy seat, from between the Cherubims." And again, Lev. 16:2, “I will appear in the cloud upon the mercy seat."

No wonder, then, that amid all the good things which they had found in the Land of Promise, nothing was so dear to the hearts of true Israelites as this Ark which they had brought with them.

The Ark abode in the Holy Tent or Tabernacle which Moses had made in the wilderness according to the pattern shown to him in the Mount: in the wilderness it had been first set up, with its hangings and curtains of fine twined linen, and blue and purple and scarlet; when the Israelites journeyed, the Ark went before them, to search out a resting-place for the people of God in the waste, howling wilderness; the sons of Kohath carried the Ark; and the holy vessels, with their coverings, were carried by the sons of Merari. The boards, bars, and pillars of the Tabernacle, with its curtains and coverings were carried by the sons of Gershon.

In this manner, hundreds of years before the day of Elkanah's first journey, the ark had gone before the people into Jordan, and the waters of Jordan had been cut off before it while the people passed over; "and when all the people were clean passed over, the Ark of the Lord passed over," and some time after that, the whole congregation of the children of Israel assembled together at Shiloh, and set up the tabernacle of the congregation there.

Hannah had many times made the journey to Shiloh with a sorrowful heart, but at last the day came when her sorrow was passed, and with a heart rejoicing and thankful she stood before Eli and presented the child to the Lord.

Besides the child, Elkanah and Hannah took up bullocks, flour, and wine, as offerings and sacrifices to God, and when they presented the child to the Lord in Shiloh they slew a bullock; for no little child can be brought near to God except through the death of Christ, "who through the Eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God;” and the bullocks, lambs and goats slain by the Israelites all pointed forward to that one perfect Sacrifice, "the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world."

Elkanah and Hannah therefore, as obedient Israelites, could only bring the child to God through that which was a figure of the death of Christ.

Hannah had prayed for a son, and the Lord had granted her petition. He had given her little Samuel. Therefore she said, "I have lent him [or returned him] to the Lord, as long as he liveth he shall be lent to the Lord."

After Hannah had presented the child, she prayed that beautiful prayer or song which you read in the first ten verses of 1 Sam. 2, then she and the father returned to their home in Ramah, while little Samuel remained at Shiloh under the care of Eli, the high priest.

Hannah had five more children after this, and no doubt she loved them as a mother does love all her children; but while the three sons and two daughters were around her at Ramah, I am sure that her heart was often at Shiloh with the little son whom she had lent to the Lord.

Perhaps some of you may remember one, a little brother or sister, who has been returned to the Lord; or it may be one whom you have never seen, but your mother remembers him, and when you are all together perhaps she may speak of the little one who is gone to be with Jesus. So perhaps Hannah spoke sometimes of her little Samuel: and he was not, like the little ones who are with Jesus, in a place where there are no needs and no sorrows; he must have needed many things, that little child who ministered before the Lord, girded with a linen ephod; and so, in the quiet hours at home, Hannah not only thought or spoke of her little son, but she made him a little coat.

How wonderful! God has even noticed and told us in His Word of so simple a thing as a mother making a little coat for her son: ah, there is nothing too small for God to take note of; a toiling mother or a little needy child, all are seen by God.

Every year Hannah made a new little coat, and I daresay, as yours would be, the old one was well worn by that time; what a joyful day it must have been for Samuel when "his mother brought it to him, from year to year, when she came with her husband to offer the yearly sacrifice."

And how happy were Hannah and Elkanah who, year after year, saw their child ministering in the house of the Lord.—For “a wise son maketh a glad father."

Thus “the child Samuel grew on and was in favor both with the Lord and also with men." Many a step in the subject place of lowly service and obedience to Eli had Samuel trodden, we may be sure, before those blessed words were said of him, for "Before honor is humility," and this was wonderful honor for the humble, obedient child; for almost in the same words which describe the path of Samuel has the path of the Holy Child Jesus been described. And is Samuel the only one thus honored?

Of no other child have such words been written in the Scriptures, but "Even a child is known by his doings," and the God who looks down on children now, just as attentively and just as graciously as he looked on little Samuel, sees and is pleased with every step of lowly obedience which you take.

Eli was now very old, and little Samuel must have been a comfort to his sorrowful heart.

Do you know why I call Eli's a sorrowful heart?

Alas! he was not the glad father that Elkanah was, for his sons were not wise: "the sin of the young men, Hophni and Phinehas, was very great before the Lord."

Yes, God noticed all their evil ways, just as He noticed Samuel's obedient ways. Eli, too, noticed the sin of his sons. He was a God-fearing man, he wished them to give up their evil ways, he reproved them, but yet God said of him that “he restrained them not."

It is not enough for parents to wish their children to do right, and it is not enough for them to reprove their children when they do wrong, they must also restrain them; that means, prevent them from going on in what is displeasing to God. When a parent reproves, it ought to be enough for the subject child, but if it is not enough, the rod, that is the punishment, must come, for Scripture says: “Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thine eye spare for his crying."

How far better would it have been for Hophni and Phinehas to have shed tears here, and to have been restrained from their evil ways; better still, if they had listened to the gentle word of reproof. But no; "Notwithstanding they hearkened not unto the voice of their father, because the Lord would slay them."

Oh, terrible words! “They hearkened not unto the voice of their father:" it was a sign that they were on the way to destruction. "He that being often reproved hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy."

This was the sad history of Hophni and Phinehas. Could such a ‘notwithstanding' ever be said of you? Have you ever been reproved, and NOTWITHSTANDING gone on in your own way?

Hophni and Phinehas were much older than Samuel, but this only made their sin and disobedience the worse.

Surely as you grow older you should be growing more obedient, more like the wise child who makes a glad father; but I have seen a sight sometimes that makes me very sad.

What is this sight?

I will tell you. I have seen a little child, sweet and lowly, and loving and obedient; and bigger children, brothers and sisters of that little child, or even that same little child a few years later, rude and self-willed and disobedient, and then, I need scarcely add, unloving. Such a child is like the little gardens that children sometimes make.

What! such a child like a garden! A garden is something sweet and pleasant.

Stay, the garden I am going to tell you of is a very disappointing garden.

Did you ever see a child gather some bright flowers, and then stick them into his own little bit of ground? Oh, how gay his garden looked, in a few minutes perhaps. He is quite pleased; he goes to bed in the evening, and thinks he has such a fine garden: the next morning, he runs to look; and what is to be seen?

Nothing but withered blossoms and drooping stalks. Perhaps he cries over his disappointing Garden.

And well may the parent cry who sees such a child as I have described. I hope that none of you, dear children, will be even for a day like the Disappointing Garden.

And why had the blossoms all withered in a day? Were they not sweet, bright flowers, just like those from among which they had been gathered? Yes, but they had no roots. There was no Life going on under the blossoms in that little bit of ground, no little roots beneath the flowers, feeding and giving vigor and growth. The Scripture tells us of those who "have no root in themselves and so endure but for a time;" and again of those who are "born again not of corruptible seed but of incorruptible, by the word of God which liveth and abideth forever." The sweet flowers from that precious seed are enduring, but “all flesh is as grass and all the glory of men as the flower of grass; the grass withereth and the flower thereof falleth away."

Not only upon themselves did Hophni and Phinehas bring destruction; they brought down the judgment of God upon their father.

Ah, think of this when you are tempted to make it hard, by your self-will or carelessness, for a gentle mother or loving father to restrain you in what is wrong.

What grief must have been added to the already sorrowful heart of poor old Eli, by the solemn reproof which was sent to him: "The Lord God of Israel saith, I said indeed that thy house and the house of thy father should walk before me forever, but now the Lord saith: Be it far from me; for them that honor me I will honor, and they that despise me shall be lightly esteemed."

Through all those sad days of the sinful sons and the failing father, and the reproofs of the Lord God of Israel, Samuel walked his lowly path as he had done before, and almost the same words are given us as to his doings in 1 Sam. 3 that we found in 1 Sam. 2:18, "The child Samuel ministered unto the Lord before Eli."

But a wonderful moment was near for Samuel.

One night Eli was laid down in his place. In the tabernacle the lamp of God was burning, that pure candlestick which Aaron and his sons, and now Eli had been told to dress, day by day, with pure olive oil beaten. Samuel was laid down to sleep in his place, just as he had lain down so many nights before; but this night was not to be like other nights. Though Samuel lived to be very old, as Eli then was, I am sure that he never forgot this night when, a little child it might be about seven years old, he heard the voice of the Lord.

The Lord called him by his name.

Yes; God knows all our names; He knows when our names are called and we do not run to obey. But Samuel attended to the voice that called him; at once he answered, "Here am I," then he ran to Eli; you see, he not only obeyed, but he obeyed quickly and willingly; it is when we are quick and willing that we run. Perhaps you have often before read this story of little Samuel, and have thought to yourself-If the Lord had called me, I, too, would have been ready to answer "Here am I," and it is right that you should feel so; but shall I tell you how we may know whether you would have been ready, like little Samuel?

Samuel answered and ran when he thought it was Eli who called him; and you may be sure that if you are not ready to answer and obey when your parents or those who have the care of you speak, you are not ready to hear and answer a call from God; for it is through parents or others who have the care of them, that God now speaks to children.

Samuel was in bed, laid down to sleep, his day's work was finished; he might have thought of all this, but he did not wait to think whether it was easy or pleasant to him to answer the call, or whether to be called after he was laid down to sleep was what he expected; "he ran to Eli and said, Here am I, for thou calledst me."

Eli had heard no voice; he said, “I called not; lie down again."

Then Samuel obeyed again; “he went and lay down."

Samuel heard that voice again. Yes; he was called, he did hear his name; again he went to Eli and said, “Here I am, for thou didst call me."

How different, this ready listening child, from Eli's own sons! Perhaps Eli thought of this, for he spoke kindly to the obedient child, “I called not, my son; lie down again."

A third time Samuel heard the call, and a third time he went to Eli; he knew not the voice that called him, but this time "Eli perceived that the Lord had called the child," and he told him what he was to say if he heard that voice again, "Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth."

Then, once more, the fourth time, Samuel heard the voice again; the Lord was very near to Samuel then. “The Lord came and stood and called, Samuel, Samuel." Then Samuel answered, “Speak, for thy servant heareth."

It was a very sad message which Samuel heard from God that night.

He heard how God intended to punish the house of Eli for the wickedness of Hophni and Phinehas: he lay still in his bed until the morning, but I don't think he slept any more; his heart was filled with solemn, sad thoughts, but he rose and remembered his duties: he opened the doors of the house of the Lord. He was afraid at the thought of all that he would have to say to Eli, the sorrowful old man whom he had so long obeyed and respected. Eli did call him before long; he asked what Jehovah, the God of Israel, had said; perhaps he already guessed something of the sad message that awaited him; and how meekly he received this reproof from the lips of the child-prophet!—he said, "It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good."

Samuel never lost that place to which God had called him: many years of childhood were yet before him, but the Lord who had called him also kept him.

“And Samuel grew, and the Lord was with him and did let none of his words fall to the ground. And all Israel, from Dan even to Beersheba, knew that Samuel was established to be a prophet of the Lord. And the Lord appeared again in Shiloh, for the Lord revealed himself to Samuel in Shiloh by the word of the Lord."

Thus we see the child, whose path of lowly obedience had led him on to the night when the Lord was pleased so to honor him, continuing in that same path. Neither honor given, nor the knowledge of future greatness was to lift him out of the subject place, even "an heir so long as he is a child differeth nothing from a servant, but is under [that is, subject to] tutors and governors," and just as we saw that the Tender Care of God was not only over children, but over men and women of all ages, so I must tell you that men and women, as well as children, are in different ways in the Subject Place. None know how to rule well who have not learned first to obey; and if any of you are among the number who may some day be set over others, you have special need to learn the lessons of the Subject Place.

Do you know what our Queen said, when first she knew that she was heiress to the throne of England? If not, I am sure you would like to hear.

I wonder what you would say or think, if you heard that a throne was before you?

I do not know, and perhaps you hardly know either, but if I were to see you I could soon guess what kind of little kings or queens you would make.

Does your mother or your nurse ever go away and leave you, as eldest, in charge of the little ones?

How do you behave to them then?

Are you kind and patient with them?

Do you give up your own pleasure and think of what will be best for them?

Or are you pleasing yourself, perhaps leading the little ones into mischief, or forgetting them, or making them cry?

Ah! what bad kings and queens such elder ones would make.

But I have not seen many like that; I have seen many patient, careful elder brothers and sisters, and I am sure there are numbers more whom I have not seen.

But I must not forget my story about the Queen.

Her Majesty, then the Princess Victoria, was the only child of the Duke of Kent, who died when the little Princess was but a few months old; thus she was early left a fatherless child, and was very carefully brought up, in Kensington Palace, by her mother, the Duchess of Kent.

George the Third, a king much beloved, whose death soon followed that of the Duke of Kent, was the grandfather of the Princess Victoria: his son, George the Fourth, became King after him; then George's brother, William the Fourth; all the little daughters of William the Fourth had died in infancy, King William was an old man, and the next to come after him was the Princess Victoria, who at that time was twelve years old.

It was thought right now to make known to the young Princess what had before been entirely kept secret from her,—that she was the next heir to the throne of England, so her governess, the Baroness Lehzen, put the genealogical table (that is the list showing the names of former kings, queens, princes and princesses), into the book from which the Princess Victoria learned English history.

On opening the book, her Royal Highness remarked, “I never saw this before. I see I am nearer the throne than I thought;” then, after a little while, she turned with tears in her eyes to the Baroness Lehzen and gave her her hand, saying with childish simplicity, yet with beautiful solemnity — "I will be good.... I understand all better now; I will be good."

Was not this a sweet and right thought to come at once from the lips and heart of the future Queen?

You know we are told to honor the king and pray for all in authority, to be subject to those who are set as rulers over us, and perhaps this little story will help you to remember, and honor the Queen; it is also a useful lesson for you: the Princess said, "I understand all better now." She understood why she had been so trained in the Subject Place, why she had had many difficult lessons to learn, why she had never been permitted to make her own pleasure her object, or her own will her guide.

You, too, may every day understand better all that meets you in the Subject Place, and may learn to find yourself at home in that little, quiet, lowly place which, as I told you before, is also a safe, happy, and useful place. Love is there, as a firm soft carpet spread under your feet, so must it not be a happy place? Safety is all around, like the curtains which we hang at our windows to shut out from our houses the wind and rain, and every disagreeable thing, outside in the dark lonely streets. There are seats, too, in the subject place, I am sure, for to sit down is the very best thing to do there; but they are little, low seats, and I think we may call them Contentment; and, besides all this, there are the ornaments. I think the ornaments of the Subject Place are the Subject children like olive branches round about the parents' table. And what are the duties of these children, in this happy place? Could I name to you all the little things you have to do, day by day? Indeed I could not; but I can tell you of two duties which are like great seeds, and hold all your other duties within them.

These words, I am sure, are already well known to you, and they are the child's first great duty, “Children obey your parents, in all things, for this is well pleasing unto the Lord." The second will also not be new to most of you: “Honor thy father and thy mother, which is the first commandment with promise."

If you obey your parents, you will be, like Samuel, quick and willing to answer to a call; you will try to do all that you are told, and when your father and mother are not near, you will try to remember all they have told you to do, and to avoid all they have told you not to do. I remember a dear little girl who tried to obey her parents and to remember, when away from them, all that they said. She and her little brother were spending the day with some friends, and Walter, who was a year younger than little Emma, was becoming forgetful of home lessons, and fretting to get his own way.

Emma was sorry to see this; she was not one of those who would lead a little one into mischief, and she wanted to remind him of what Mamma would say, but, being a very little girl herself, she hardly knew how to take the place of a reprover, and so, holding up her plump little finger to fretting Walter, and slowly shaking her curly head, with a very grave look on her baby face she said, " Oh, Watty dear, you know Mamma says it isn't good to be naughty." This was a very funny little speech to make, was it not? but I am glad to say that the loving little reminder of Mamma, and what Mamma had said, was enough for Watty, and he left off fretting, and became content and happy like dear little Emmy.

If Emmy had not learned some lessons in the Subject Place herself, she could not have helped the little brother out of the naughty fit that he was inclined to give way to; if she had not tried to obey herself, she would not have been so quick or so grieved to see his disobedience; and I think little Emmy honored her parents as well as obeyed them.

If you honor your parents you certainly will obey them, but besides that you will think a great deal about them, and you will thus know very often what they would like you to do, even when they have given you no rule; it is the heart that honors, and the heart will teach you to do many little duties that you have scarcely been told to do. Some children, who obey their parents, seem yet to forget those little duties which would show that they also honor their parents. I trust, in their hearts, they do remember this, which is as much a duty as "Children obey," but children cannot show us their hearts, we can only see their ways, and the ways of some children do not look like honoring the parent. If Papa or Mamma comes into the room, these children go on with their work or their book just as if nothing had happened; or if they are talking together, they go on with their talk; no one waits to know if Papa, who has just come into the room, may have any-thing to say; no one runs to see if Mamma wants her work, or if she has a footstool, or if Papa wants his book.

About one hundred years ago, children were made to show very great respect to their parents: well brought up children never sat down in their parents' presence until they were told to do so; and the child who spoke to its mother in a quick, careless tone without saying Ma'am, or to its father without saying Sir, would have been thought very rude indeed. Such formal manners as these would now be unbecoming and out of place; they are what would be called "old-fashioned," but the word, "Honor thy father and thy mother," though it was given thousands, that is tens of hundreds of years ago, has not grown old-fashioned, for "the word of the Lord endureth forever."

Your father and mother cannot be always with you; many things may call them away, and so they set others in their place to direct you; and just as you obey and honor your parents you will obey and honor those whom they set over you, or who are kind enough to take care of you in their stead.

Elkanah and Hannah did not stay with Samuel, they were busy in their home at Ramah; but Samuel obeyed Eli, into whose charge Hannah had given her little son, and this obedience was well pleasing to the Lord.

Does not this ending of the verse encourage you: “This is well pleasing unto the Lord."

Those little things you do every day which are not all perhaps quite what you like, or the little things you give up which perhaps you would like so much are all known to the Lord, and He is well pleased when you do the right little things or leave the wrong little things, because He has said: "Children, obey your parents in all things."

Ah, can this safe, happy, useful place ever seem a dull place, or a hard place to the child who has been set in it by the God who knows the needs and the dangers of a child?

Have you thought about the dress that is so suited to the subject place? The roof won't seem too low, or the walls too narrow if you have this dress on. “Be clothed with humility." Humility does not think about itself at all; it is always at home and happy in the subject place, and the little seats are just suited for those who are "clothed with humility:" they are not fretting for what is beyond the curtains of the subject place; they are able to enjoy the love and the safety; and the little seats of contentment are high enough and big enough for them; this dress never looks unbecoming, and, another thing is, you will never grow out of it as you do out of last year's clothes.

“Fairest and best adorned is she
Whose clothing is Humility."

And if she does not suit you, for you know the pronoun she would not suit all kinds of children, you will find the other pronoun, he rhymes just as well; and humility is a dress as becoming to a boy as to a girl.

Samuel, we may feel sure, was "clothed with humility" while he ministered before Eli, and when he grew and was in favor both with the Lord and also with men. "Better is it to be of an humble spirit with the lowly than to divide the spoil with the proud," for “before destruction the heart of man is haughty, and before honor is humility."

“A man's pride shall bring him low, but honor shall uphold the humble in spirit." How much trouble pride can bring even a child into! On the other hand, How much trouble humility saves even children from, for “with the lowly is wisdom." “God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble." Shall we not then seek to incline our ears to hear the voice of Him who said “Learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart"? Pride and self-will do not like the curtains of the subject place; they long to be beyond them. Perhaps you would like to hear a story about those curtains; oh! how many dangers they shut out from us, dangers which perhaps the child never supposes, but the boy of whom I am now going to tell you was able to see what the subject place saved him from. He was almost grown beyond what might be called a boy, but he did not think himself grown beyond considering the wishes and feelings of those who were above him: he was not like the disappointing garden.

He was staying with an uncle and aunt, and one evening some young friends asked him to join them, the next day, in an excursion on the river; this of course sounded very pleasant to him, and he agreed to go, and returning to his uncle's house he told his aunt of the proposed plan. The aunt was a very timid person and not at all fond of boats and rivers herself; when she went to bed that night, her fear about her nephew and the boating excursion prevented her from getting any quiet sleep: very early in the morning she went to her nephew's room and told him her fears and how much she had suffered all through the night; he felt no fears, besides he had promised to join his friends; and what excuse could he give to them for not being with them? “Write to them," said his aunt, "and say that I am ill, and you will not leave me: “for indeed the fears and the restless night had made the poor aunt quite ill. Now her nephew could see no danger, nothing but pleasure in the expected boating, and it was not at all pleasant to him to disappoint his friends, or to withdraw himself from the expected treat, but he had learned a lesson in the subject place, and so he respected his aunt's wishes, and wrote the note, and his young friends went without him.

And then, what do you think happened

Oh, how glad that boy must have been of his safe subject place, and how thankful the uncle and aunt must have been to see him safe at home, for in the very middle of the river, quite suddenly, as boats so often do, the boat upset, and not one of the youths who were in it ever returned to his home; all were drowned in a moment. Oh! what a terrible pang of sorrow would have pierced the nephew's heart had he, like Hophni and Phinehas, despised the word of advice and gone with his friends and found himself, with them, sinking into the deep waters.

If he lived to grow old I hope he had that day learned a lesson of the safety found in the Subject Place which would be useful to him all his life through; tor you remember we never grow too old for the Subject Place, just as we never grow too old for the Tender Care. Our parents may die; those who once guided us may grow old and leave us, or the business of daily life may take us far away from them, but is there then no guarding safety around us? no firm footing spread by Love beneath our feet Ah yes! The parent's rule, the friend's counsel may have gone from us, but the will of God is there, enduring to guide; and the child who now obeys this word "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right," who is now most careful to say, Would this please my father? or Would my mother like this? will best learn how to find and to follow that safe, lasting pathway through the Subject Place, God's way.

"As for God, his way is perfect," and "the path of the just is as the shining light which shineth more and more unto the perfect day." Yes, and on that pathway, the way of God, we walk not alone: you know, dear children, who has walked that way before you; the whole, whole length of the Subject Place, even from the babe's lowly manger-cradle.

The Lord Jesus Christ. It was His footsteps that made that safe pathway for us. He alone, of all who ever trod this earth, never set a footstep, never had a thought or a wish beyond the Subject Place. As the only obedient One, His pathway would have led straight into glory; His, and none other, was the path of the just, shining more and more unto the perfect day; but then, though the shining way would have been traced through the subject place, not one of us could have walked along it, for the mind of man, called the carnal mind, "is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be." Christ would not enter alone into the glory; He passed it by and He “became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." Thus He was the Good Shepherd giving His life for the sheep. Now He is in glory, and now He can say, "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give unto them eternal life: and they shall never perish."

He has left us an example that we should follow His steps. How safe are the feet that are set in His footprints; but only the Sheep can walk there: they hear His voice; He knows them; and they follow Him.

The steps in that pathway are not great steps; there are footprints there little enough for children's little feet. The child Jesus went down into Nazareth, and was subject to Joseph and Mary.

Who so “clothed with humility" as Jesus? who could say, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

“Childhood’s years are passing o'er us,

Youthful days will soon be done;

Cares and sorrows lie before us,

Hidden dangers, snares unknown.

" Oh! may He who, meek and lowly,

Trod Himself this vale of woe,

Make us His and make us holy,

Guard and guide us while we go.

"Hark! it is the Savior calling,

Little children, follow me:

Jesus, keep our feet from falling,

Teach us all to follow Thee."

WHITAKER

Chapter 3: Joash (Or, Heart and Rule)

“THE Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart." (1 Sam. 16:7.)

“Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer." (Psa. 19:14.)

"Fill our hearts with thoughts of Jesus,
And of heaven where He is gone;
And let nothing ever please us
He would grieve to look upon."

2 Kings 11, 12; 2 Chron. 22, 23, 24.

2KI 11, 122CH 22, 23, 24THE story of Joash will carry us to Jerusalem. That is a name which I think you have often I heard; it is the name of the city in which David, his son, his grandson and many of his descendants reigned as kings over the people of God.

Jerusalem is the name of the most wonderful city in the whole world, for in it is Mount Zion, which Jehovah loved, and, more than this, it is the city “where also our Lord was crucified." It is a city which the heart of God will never forget, and though it is so spoiled and ruined that Mount Zion does not now appear “beautiful for situation the joy of the whole earth," still, the Lord will yet build up Jerusalem, and "gather together the outcasts of Israel." Jerusalem is a type or pattern city, too; we read of "the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God;" “New Jerusalem, which cometh down out of heaven from my God."

We might soon fill a book with lessons and thoughts about Jerusalem, but this is to be the story of Joash, one of the kings who reigned in that blessed and wonderful city. I am sorry to tell you that, wonderful and blessed as it was, yet some very wicked people dwelt there about the time of Joash. Nearly 300 years had passed away since that night when Samuel, the child-prophet, had heard the voice of the Lord: sad changes had taken place among the people of God; they had provoked Him to anger with their graven images, so that He had forsaken " the tabernacle of Shiloh, the tent which he placed among men;" the people of Israel themselves, whom God had delivered all together from the bondage of Egypt, whom He had guided as one great company through the wilderness, and whom He had given as one flock into the care of David, had divided themselves into two companies under two separate kings, One king reigned in Samaria, and was called king of Israel; the other reigned in Jerusalem, and was called king of Judah; and the kings of Judah were always, in the eyes of God, the rightful rulers over His people, yet, even among them, there were many who were very, very wicked.

Oh! what a sad dark history is the story of man, even when he has been set in a place of favor by God: the story of king Joash is not altogether a sweet one like that of little Samuel or the infant Moses, but some things not altogether sweet are wholesome for us, and the story of Joash contains a solemn and wholesome lesson for all those children who are enjoying the Tender Care of God, and are being trained in the Subject Place; both these must have been known by the child Joash; and perhaps you will understand the title which I have added to his name — "Heart and Rule," better by reading the whole story, than by any explanation I could give you of it now.

The father of Joash was a very different man from either Amram or Elkanah. His name was Ahaziah. He was one of the kings of Judah, and he did evil in the sight of the Lord like the house of Ahab, and, dreadful to relate, his mother was his counselor to do wickedly. But that was not an excuse for Ahaziah: he might have read in the proverbs, written by his ancestor Solomon, "My son, if sinners entice thee consent thou not."

How often we are inclined to make an excuse for our sin of the bad advice or bad example of somebody else, but such excuses will not hide our sin from God; only the precious blood of Christ can blot out sin from God's sight. Destruction came from God upon the wicked Ahaziah.

And when Athaliah, the mother of Ahaziah, saw that her son was dead, she arose and destroyed all the seed royal, that is, she caused the death of all her own grandsons. Not a thought for her son who had died under the judgment of God, not a thought for his unhappy children, her only thought was for self; she reigned in Jerusalem and she fancied her dreadful plan had succeeded, that not one was left who could claim the throne which God had promised to David and to his sons forever.

But "There is no wisdom nor understanding nor counsel against the Lord:" she made a dreadful mistake. What could the wicked Athaliah, daughter of the idol-loving Jezebel, know of the promises and ways of God?

There was another relative of the dead king's who was not like Athaliah; this was Jehosheba, the sister of Ahaziah, and wife of Jehoiada, the high priest: while the dreadful slaughter of the king's sons was going on, Jehoshabeath, who is the same as Jehosheba, secretly took Joash from among the rest and hid him in a bedroom with his nurse, for he was then scarcely a year old, thus his life was saved, and for six years he lived with his aunt Jehoshabeath and his uncle Jehoiada in the house of God.

It was, no doubt, by faith that the high priest and his wife dared thus to risk the fury of the wicked grandmother Athaliah, and only faith could have made Jehoshabeath bold enough to enter the place where the royal children were being killed and to take Joash away.

But Jehoiada and his wife knew the promise of God, and they also knew what we, too, may be sure of, that

“sooner all nature shall change
Than one of God's promises fail."

And what was the promise that made it impossible for Athaliah, with all her planning and all her strength, to take away the life of this last little son of the wicked king Ahaziah?

God had promised that the throne of Jerusalem should always belong to a son of David. In 2 Sam. 7:16 we read, “And thine house and thy kingdom shall be established forever before thee; thy throne shall be established forever." More than a hundred years had passed away since God had made this promise, but God never forgets what He has said and He never alters it either; “Forever, O Lord, thy word is settled in heaven."

In the midst of all the confusion that had surrounded the throne of Samaria, the throne of Jerusalem had passed, without once missing, from father to son, and for two hundred years more after the time of Joash, still this bright line of the promise of God was seen passing from father to son, from father to son; then the people became so wicked that God caused them to be taken captives to a strange land, and the line of the sons of David was no longer seen upon the throne of Jerusalem.

But a child of the royal line of Judah was born generation after generation according to the word. “The scepter shall not depart from Judah nor a lawgiver from between his feet until Shiloh come, and unto him shall the gathering of the people be," and the promise was there as bright as ever to faith. And of whom was this spoken? with whom was this promised kingly line to end? With Christ, the Son of David, David's son yet David's Lord, the true Lion of Judah, the true king of Israel.

It could not pass to any other; no one could come after the Lord Jesus Christ, for though the Jews refused Him as their king, crying " Crucify him, crucify him," and though He hung upon the cross with a title written over Him, " Jesus of Nazareth, the king of the Jews," and though on that cross, where He suffered, the just for the unjust, He bowed His head and died, yet it was not possible that He, the holy Son of God, should be holden of death. God raised Him from among the dead and now "He ever liveth."

“He who wore the crown of thorns,
He whom men reviled and scorn'd;
Claims exclusively, the words,
King of kings and Lord of lords."

The heavens have received Him until the times of restitution, that means times of setting in order, but God's promise remains; the day is near when He will come forth again, and then His real title will be plainly seen according to Rev. 19:16, "He hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, King of kings, and Lord of lords."

We cannot see Jesus now, but "Blessed are they that have not seen and yet have believed."

Before that day when He comes forth in power and majesty to judge the earth, He will have come again and taken away from this sinful world all those who have put their trust in Him. “The Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trump of God, and the dead in Christ shall rise first; then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord." (1 Thess. 4:16, 17.) That voice will be heard by every one who has trusted in Jesus, even the youngest child, and we shall be caught up to meet the Lord in the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord.

Now faith assures us, as it assured Jehoiada and Jehoshabeath, that, the Lord will not forget His promise. He says to us: “I will come again and receive you unto myself," and so we “wait for the Son from heaven, even Jesus which delivered us from the wrath to come."

Oh! how far safer was the little rescued child, Joash, hid in the hollow of God's hand., and sheltered by the unchangeable promise, than the proud Athaliah who, surrounded by her guards and boasting in her strength and success, sat enthroned upon the brink of destruction!

How far safer is a child whose trust is in God, than the greatest of men whose trust is in the things of earth!

“Happy they who trust in Jesus,
Sweet their portion is and sure;
When the foe on others seizes,
God will keep His own secure.
Happy people,
Happy, though despised and poor."

Six years passed away; quiet years to Joash who lived all that time in his hiding-place in the house, of the Lord; this hiding-place was most likely one of the " little chambers " that stood in rows of three stories, chamber over chamber, around the Temple.

The Temple was quite a different place from the house of the Lord in Shiloh where Samuel had been brought up; that was a curtained. Tabernacle, this was the glorious Temple built by Solomon of costly stones and choice timber.

And six years passed away for Athaliah; the seventh year had come; she had reigned in Jerusalem according to her wish; like the wicked man in Psa. 10, she had "boasted in her heart's desire," like him she had "in secret places murdered the innocent," like him she was "taken in the device which she had imagined:" yes, the day had come when she was to find out her dreadful mistake. A sound reached her ears—a sudden but increasing noise; the people of Jerusalem were running and shouting “God save the King; " trumpets were blowing, soldiers were tramping hither and thither. In haste Athaliah followed the sound.

The courts of the Lord's house were thronged with rejoicing people; the faithful soldiers of the guard stood at every gate, from the right side of the temple to the left side of the temple, and they were armed with the spears and the shields that had once been King David's. And did Athaliah rejoice with the faithful multitude? No, her heart must have been full of fear, but she hurried on until she reached the very threshold of the temple.

A lovely, solemn sight was to be seen there.

There was Jehoiada, the high priest, and his sons; there were Levites, who had been set apart for the service of the Lord, stationed around with weapons in their hands; and in their midst, beside a pillar, wearing the kingly crown, his head anointed with the holy oil, the book of the law in his childish hands, stood the little hidden king, a silent witness to the unchangeable word of Jehovah.

The trumpets sounded; the singers with instruments of music led the praises of the rejoicing people, but Athaliah could not join those songs: she could only rend her clothes and cry Treason, Treason. The day of her punishment had come, and, at the command of Jehoiada, the high priest, the captains seized her, and when they had drawn her away from the holy place, from the holy things, and from the anointed king whom she had hated, they slew her, and she too became thus a witness to the unchangeable word of Jehovah.

For the promise is sure, and “though it tarry wait for it," but the judgment also is sure, and “when they shall say Peace and safety, sudden destruction cometh upon them."

The little Joash was now crowned as king: he had been accepted with joy by the people, who had, no doubt, suffered under the rule of the wretched Athaliah.

It must have been a wonderful moment for the child who had been reared in the secrecy and quiet of those little Temple chambers when, at seven years old, he found himself thus standing crowned in the midst of the people, and he could have understood but little of the blessed and solemn position which he occupied; but his faithful guardian, the high priest, knew that the child was more than the king whom the people were pleased to accept. Jehoiada knew that Joash was also the one chosen and anointed of the Lord, and the people of Jerusalem were the Lord's people, so Jehoiada made a covenant, that is a solemn agreement, " between the Lord and the king, and the people, that they should be the Lord's people; between the king also and the people."

The king and the people undertook to serve and obey the Lord; the Lord on His part would bless them; the king also undertook to rule in justice and mercy over the people, and they on their part undertook to obey Joash as the king whom God had set over them.

Then the captains with their hundreds of soldiers, the people who filled the courts and the streets, began to move, and the little king, accompanied by the faithful Jehoiada and the guard, went out from the house of the Lord, through the gate of the guard on into the king's house from which, in haste and fear, he had been carried six years before, and they seated him upon the throne of the kings.

The child-king had reached the throne of David; his enemy was dead and the city was quiet, but there was much still for his faithful guardians to do.

The aunt Jehosheba, who had rescued him, would yet have to bestow much watchful care and training upon the child, though he was a king, and the high priest would have to teach him all the commandments which had been provided, hundreds of years before, for the direction of those who should rule as kings over the people of God.

In Deut. 17:14-20, you may read these commandments; the last was perhaps that which Jehoiada first set before Joash: "It shall be when he sitteth upon the throne of his kingdom, that he shall write him a copy of this law in a book, out of that which is before the priests the Levites, and it shall be with him, and he shall read therein all the days of his life that he may learn to fear the Lord his God to keep all the words of this law and these statutes to do them."

Thus the days and years would pass by: how little could those around the young king guess what was to be the sad ending of all this careful instruction! How little could they foresee the return he would make for all this care and kindness!

Joash grew on; he did many right things; he was zealous in repairing the house of the Lord, but alas! his heart was untouched.

Many right things may be taught us, many truths learned, but all that is learned does not reach 'the heart.

Did you ever read of Lydia, the “seller of purple “in Thyatira?

How did Paul's preaching reach her heart?

Look at Acts 16; in the fourteenth verse you will find these words — "Whose heart the Lord opened."

A very little boy once knew how truth could get into the heart: he was a little Scotch boy, and he, lived among lonely hills and in a day when schools were few, so a Christian who, when traveling that way, went to visit him, was surprised to find this little boy full of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and asked where he had learned the precious truths he spoke of. Ah! the truths were not in the little boy's mind only; he answered in his simple, childish language: " I was learned at the Infant School, but God put it in my heart."

How precious to be able to say this—God put it in my heart!

And God delights to put His truth into the hearts of little ones.

He loves the little ones to teach,

And put His truth within their reach;

And not the weakest e'er can say,

I came but I was sent away."

How different was Joash from the little Scotch boy! A rule from outside was all that guided him; he only did that which was right in the sight of the Lord all the days of Jehoiada the priest.

He was not like David his forefather, who could say: "Thy word have I hid in my heart that I might not sin against thee." (Psa. 119:2.)

Did you ever hide anything in your heart?

What is hidden in our hearts, no man can take away from us.

This thought once comforted a little Irish boy in a very sad trouble.

I am sure you will be shocked to hear that a very wicked man, who was a Roman Catholic Priest, was very angry with this little boy for reading his Bible, and desired him to leave off doing so; this was a command which the little boy could not obey, for the Lord Himself said, “Search the scriptures."

The priest was much displeased when he found his command disobeyed, and he spoke very cruelly to the child, but still could not persuade him to promise that he would not read his precious book; the very next time the priest came in he found the child sitting with his Bible on his knee.

The priest was enraged.

"You shall not read that Book," he cried, and snatching it from the child's hands, he threw it into the fire.

Oh, how wicked must the man have been who could thus treat the holy word of God!

You may think how bitterly the poor little boy cried when he saw his precious book burnt away, page by page; when all was burnt the wicked priest went away, but the poor little boy kept on crying, and his parents could not comfort him: at last a thought made him dry his tears, and presently he even smiled, though still he saw nothing left of his Bible but a little heap of ashes.

What was this thought?

His parents did not know until at last he said, “I’m thinking that the priest can't burn those chapters which I have learned by heart."

God had given this thought to the poor persecuted child to comfort him; and was not this little Irish boy like David?

The Roman Catholic priest could not take the word of God away from this poor little child, as you will hear that the princes of Judah took it from King Joash.

I am not writing to kings; none of you are, like Joash, wearers of a crown, but like him you are children, growing up under much watchful care and good instruction; and are you like Joash in anything else?

Perhaps, and I hope it is so, you are like him obedient to Rule; you do as you are told; you have good habits, you know many useful and pleasant things, but oh! is it only Rule or is it Heart?

Are the good habits and the right ways and the pleasant thoughts coming from something within?

When the parents or the instructors are away, when you are alone, or with your companions only; left without Rule; do the right ways still go on?

Did you ever see a jelly turned out in the shape of the mold it had been put into?

I have. It had been put into a mold shaped like a Rabbit, and it turned out a jelly the exact shape of a Rabbit.

There was his soft rounded back; there were his legs and his slender feet, his long ears and his little restless mouth; besides the Rabbit I have seen another jelly, and when it was turned out of its mold it fell all to pieces; it was no shape at all.

Where was the difference?

Not in the molds, for they were both away from the jellies.

The difference was in the jellies: there was something in the one that kept it in shape; that something was wanting in the other, and it could keep no shape.

It was very like a child who is kept only by rule; nothing within that answered to the rule, that stored up the rule, alas! such an one is like Ephraim, who was said to be "like a silly dove without heart," and, like him, their "goodness is as a morning cloud and as the early dew it goeth away."

How sadly was this true of Joash, the king who had given good promise all the days of Jehoiada the priest!

But Jehoiada grew old and died, and where was the goodness of Joash then? He was left without the rule of his faithful uncle, and he was without goodness: Jehoiada was gone, and his goodness, like early dew, was gone away also.

How terrible was the end of his story. He and his people left the house of the Lord God of their fathers, the very house which had once sheltered Joash, and served groves and idols; and wrath came upon Judah and Jerusalem for this their trespass.

Yet God sent prophets to them.

“He is a God ready to pardon, gracious and merciful, slow to anger and of great kindness."

But alas! it was all in vain; they would not give ear. One last instructor arose, Zechariah, the son of Jehoiada, the priest; his heart must have sorrowed over the king whom he had seen from childhood upwards, and who had been so precious to his father, but he had to pronounce solemn words of judgment upon him and the people. "Thus saith God; why transgress ye the commandments of the Lord that ye cannot prosper? Because ye have forsaken the Lord, he hath also forsaken you; and they conspired against him, and stoned him with stones at the commandment of the king, in the court of the house of the Lord. Thus Joash the king remembered not the kindness which Jehoiada his father had done to him, but slew his son; and when he died he said, the Lord look upon it and require it."

This was the sad end of the history of Joash: illness came upon him, and in his weakness his own servants slew him, and the people who once had beheld him with joyful love, and who had shouted " God save king Joash," now refused him so much as a place of burial among the kings of Judah.

Ah, how true of Joash and these princes of Judah were the sad and solemn words which the prophet Isaiah spoke a few years after, " This people draweth near unto me with their mouth, and with their lips do honor me, but have removed their heart far from me."

In my last chapter I spoke of a garden which some children are like; Joash reminds me of a fruit of which travelers have spoken; this fruit was said to grow in a place not very far from Jerusalem.

About 20 miles east of Jerusalem, there is a gloomy spot, a great, silent, lifeless sea; perhaps some of you have already heard of it, it is well named "The Dead Sea;" nothing lives in its lonely waters; a traveler once put a little fish into some of this Dead Sea water which he had poured into a glass; the little fish went in alive, but it was very unhappy in this strange pond of lifeless water, and in half-an-hour it died. The traveler may come thirsting to the shores of the Dead Sea, but he cannot drink of its bitter, unwholesome water; as he looks around he may see what appears like a beautiful ripe plum, it is called the Dead Sea Apple; it looks soft, and blooming, and juicy, but if unwarned he picks it and puts it to his lips, does it refresh him? does it quench his thirst? Oh no, he is almost choked.

The pleasant-looking fruit is filled with a strange and horrible dust.

Oh, how useless, how dangerous is that which is only fair outside!

Would your father and mother be satisfied with obedient hands and feet if your heart were not obedient? No indeed, their hearts are occupied about you; they love you, they think about you, and if their rule did not reach your heart you would never answer to their wishes concerning you; and it is wonderful to remember, but your parents and friends are not the only ones who desire to reach that poor little heart of yours.

God has said, “My son, give me thine heart."

Yes, God, the great God who made heaven and earth, can even stoop to invite you to give Him your heart; and this is because of His love.

But God loves with a holy love. Your heart is that within you which can love, which can hate, which can fear, which can hope, which can trust, which can rejoice; it is like a road or little chamber leading to and from your whole self; “out of it are the issues of life."

God, in holy love, says, Give me your heart; Let me keep that little chamber.

The heart that is given to God is sprinkled with the precious blood of Christ, so that its sin is atoned for and does not appear before God; for by nature “the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked," and God is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, "and He cannot look upon sin."

The word of God, like pure water, washes the heart from its former evil tastes and habits.

God furnishes the heart too with "exceeding great and precious promises," so that it may not long after the corrupt enjoyments of this evil world.

But I cannot tell you all that Light and Love do for the heart; these precious things must be tasted in the heart to be known. “Oh! taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man that trusteth in him."

What answer have you made to all this wonderful love?

“What glad returns can I impart
For favor so divine;
O take me all, and fill my heart,
And make me wholly Thine."

David could say, "When thou saidst, Seek ye my face, my heart said unto thee, Thy face, Lord, will I seek." Here is another nice little verse for you to remember, Psa. 86:11, "Teach me thy way, O Lord; I will walk in thy truth; unite my heart to fear thy name."

We have come to the end of the sad story of Joash, and I think you will like to hear the story of another little boy who, like Joash, was taught to turn away from idols, but he was not altogether like Joash; his heart received what he was taught Joash lived more than two thousand years ago; this little boy lived only a few years ago.

Would you like to know his name?

It was Kway Chung.

What a strange name!

It sounds very strange to our ears, but to the friends of Kway Chung it sounded no stranger than Charlie or Harry, or many a well-known name does to us.

You will guess by this, that the home of Kway Chung was not England, Ireland, or Scotland, as yours may be; neither was it Canaan, the home of Joash; his home was China, a wonderful country at the east of Asia, of which you may read many interesting things.

China is crowded with immense numbers of inhabitants; the Chinese are very clever people and very industrious, but they are worshippers of idols.

Among all the thousands of the learned Chinese very few have learned anything of “the love of Christ which passes knowledge."

The Chinese call their country The Celestial Empire, that means The Heavenly Empire; but alas! a country where the true God is unknown must be very unheavenly indeed; still, the Chinese admire their own country and their own ways so much that they have, until lately, been very unwilling to allow strangers from other countries to enter China, and thus the Chinese have remained in idolatry and ignorance long after many poorer and less learned people.

We often find that those who are most ignorant think most highly of their own goodness and wisdom. How foolish is such pride!

A child who thinks that it knows better than its parents or other older people is very like these foolish Chinese.

Some Christians went to the place where Kway Chung lived, and opened a school where the poor little Chinese children might learn, not foolish stories about idols, but the sweet Bible stories you have so often heard, and which all teach us one great and beautiful lesson, the love and faithfulness of God.

Kway Chung heard of Jesus, that great gift of God's love; with his heart he believed the blessed news that "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him should not perish but have everlasting life," for it is "with the heart man believes unto righteousness;" and what happened then?

Why, the heart of Kway Chung rejoiced.

“My heart shall rejoice in thy salvation."

The kind friends who had loved and taught the poor Chinese boy also rejoiced as they saw the fruit of their labors: not the dreadful Dead Sea Apple, but the sweet fruit of the Spirit, love, joy, peace; and perhaps they hoped that Kway Chung would grow up in his turn to proclaim the Savior to other poor Chinese boys.

But this was not the future before Kway Chung: the Lord had that which is “far better" as the portion in store for-him.

He became ill, and day by day, though slowly, his friends could see him growing weaker; he could learn but little now, his strength for study in the school was gone, but he would sit quiet and contented beside his kind instructors.

One day, a lady who had been much interested in him saw a sweet expression of joy on his pale face. “What are you smiling at, Kway Chung?" she said.

How simple, yet how precious was his answer!

He replied, “I was thinking how delightful it would be to be with Jesus when I die."

Ah! while Kway Chung had been too weak to go on studying in the school with the other little Chinese boys, his heart had still been learning and storing up precious things in the school of God: his heart was made glad at the thought of being with Jesus; with Jesus, who had come from the bright glory to this sad, sinful world, to make known the love of God; with Jesus, whose precious blood had washed away all the sins of the poor Chinese boy; with Jesus, who, when down here, went about doing good.

Kway Chung knew Jesus; and he could be happy at the thought of dying; for to him it was to be with Jesus, “absent from the body, present with the Lord."

If Kway Chung had been left among his foolish idols, death must have been terrible to him; leaving his home, leaving all he loved, and going to a place he did not know.

Oh! how terrible is death to all who know not Jesus, the Good Shepherd who giveth His life for the sheep; hearing about Jesus will not do. Have we heard His voice in our hearts by faith? He does not speak in a loud voice from heaven; the voice of Jehovah once shook the earth, but to the heart of a child who says I should like to know Him, Jesus speaks very softly, through His word.

Very softly He speaks, but the word goes into the heart of the one who hears, and that word is life.

He says, “I love them that love me, and those that seek me early shall find me."

He says, "I am the door; by me if any man enter in he shall be saved, and shall go in and out and find pasture."

He says, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that believeth on me hath everlasting life."

“Neither is there salvation in any other, for there is none other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved."

“By him all that believe are justified from all things from which ye could not be justified by the law of Moses."

“How loving is Jesus

Who came from the sky,

In tenderest pity

For sinners to die;

His hands and His feet

Were nail'd to the tree;

And all this He suffered

For sinners like me.

How precious is Jesus

To all who believe;

And out of His fullness

What grace they receive;

When weak He supports them,

When erring He guides,

And everything needful

He kindly provides.

How gladly does Jesus

Free pardon impart,

To all who receive Him

By faith in their heart;

Glory is for them,

Their home is above,

And Jesus will take them

To dwell in His love."

Many of you are not weak and dying like Kway Chung, but if it was sweet to him to die and go to be with Jesus, it is also sweet to live for “Him who died for us and rose again."

But it is only the one who is ready to die, who is able to live for Christ.

If we should tremble to die without Christ, we may well also tremble to live without Him.

I will tell you a story of one who did not die young, as Kway Chung did, but who grew up and preached to some poor heathen.

These were not Chinese but Hindoos, natives of India, which is a country better known to most of you than China.

The preacher had been speaking to a crowd of Hindoos about the helplessness of their miserable wooden idols and about the almighty power of God; the poor Hindoos, who had heard so little of this wonderful message of love, listened eagerly; their brown faces were all turned towards the speaker.

Suddenly, there was a disturbance; one among the crowd hated to hear of Jesus; he liked his foolish idols; he did not like to see so many listening to the word of God; so, with a great club in his hand, he rushed to the preacher and struck him.

The Hindoo meant to have struck the preacher dead, but God did not permit this. He had more work for his servant to do; the preacher had spoken earnest words, but now he was to speak in ways that would be stronger to touch the hearts of the Hindoo listeners. The stroke of the club fell on the missionary's shoulder instead of on his head.

The crowd seized the wicked man who had dared thus to attack the one who spoke to them the Word of Life; they dragged him before the missionary.

"Beat him, beat him!" they cried, “and we will hold him while you do it."

But could the one who had been speaking of His love, who, while we were yet sinners, died for us, beat this poor heathen, and return the blow which had been given him? No, not if that love had touched and bowed his heart.

“I cannot render evil for evil," said the missionary.

Then the Hindoos cried, “Take him to the magistrate."

“The master whom, I serve," replied the missionary, has said — 'Love your enemies,' so I cannot take him to the magistrate to get punished."

The poor Hindoos did not know what more to advise.

Then the missionary, while still smarting under the blow given by the cruel Hindoo, turned to him and said, "Go to your home, and remember that it was the word of the blessed Savior whom you hate that has saved you from the punishment you would otherwise have received for thus attacking me."

The fierce Hindoo was now glad enough to get away from the strong hands and angry looks of the crowd; and they, seeming to find their hearts touched with the love which they had not only heard of but seen, broke out into a simple song of "praise to Jesus."

We, none of us, were ever taught to worship those ugly images of wood and stone that are called idols. How sad it is to think of the hundreds who are thus taught, who never learn the texts you know, who have never heard those words so dear to our hearts, "Suffer the little children to come unto me."

Did you ever feel sorry for the poor little heathen children?

Among the great multitude which no man can number, there will be some of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation, and how sweet to think that we may help one immortal being to escape from the multitude who are going on the way to destruction and to become one of the multitude who are going on the way to glory! But you yourself must know the love of Christ, and forgiveness of your sins, and the hope of glory, before you can long for others to know these things.

We have no graven images, but have we therefore nothing to cast away? Yes, there are many other wrong things besides wooden or silver idols which our hearts cannot hold together with the love of Christ.

They are strange things to learn about, these hearts of ours! how much pleasure, how much pain, even a child's heart can hold; and pain and pleasure are not the only things known in the heart. Alas! something far worse than the worst pain has a place in the heart of man. It is sin.

Pleasure and pain may pass by turns through the heart; but sin does not pass; it dwells in the heart.

We cannot cast sin out of our hearts; we can only hate it and refuse to listen to its voice.

The child of God learns to hate sin because it was on account of sin that Christ endured the dreadful suffering of the cross. Sin is the parent of all sorrow: no wonder then, that even a child may often have its heart full of sorrow.

Christ was down here the Man of sorrows; it was on account of our sin.

Sin will never be turned out even from the heart of the child of God until the moment when we see Jesus.

“But we know that when he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." “And in him is no sin."

Until that bright and blessed moment, it is our privilege to learn of Him and to look at Him, so that out of us may come, not what is according to our own sinful hearts, but what is according to His heart.

“By cool Siloam's shady hill,

How sweet the lily grows;

How sweet the breath beneath the hill

Of Sharon's dewy rose.

Lo, such the child whose early feet

The paths of peace have trod;

Whose secret heart with influence sweet,

Is upward drawn to God.

O Thou, whose infant feet were found

Within Thy Father's shrine!

Whose years with changeless virtue crown'd,

Were all alike divine.

“Dependent on Thy bounteous breath,
We look to Thee alone;
In childhood, manhood, age or death,
To keep us as Thine own."

HEBER

Chapter 4: Josiah (Or, the Faithful Servant)

“HE that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much, and he that is unjust in the least is unjust also in much." (Luke 16:16.)

“Even the Son of man came not to be ministered unto but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many." (Mark 10:45.)

“Faithful amid unfaithfulness,
'Mid darkness, only Light;
Thou didst Thy Father's name confess,
And in His will delight."

2 Kings 22, 23:1-30; 2 Chron. 34, 35.

2KI 22, 23:1-302CH 34, 35THE bright line of kingly promise had passed on from father to son through seven more kings after Joash, and then Josiah came to the throne of Judah. He was, like Joash, a child-king, for he was but eight years old when he began to reign. He had been born while Manasseh, his grandfather, was yet reigning, and he was about six years old when his father, Amon, one of those many wicked kings who stained the royal line of Judah, succeeded Manasseh.

Manasseh had sinned grievously, but in the end he had humbled himself, and had found mercy from God. Amon had followed the evil ways of his father, "And humbled not himself before the Lord as Manasseh his father had humbled himself, but Amon trespassed more and more."

It comforts our hearts, after these sad words, to read at once of the young Josiah. “He did that which was right in the sight of the Lord, and walked in the ways of David his father, and declined neither to the right hand nor to the left."

How came this son of a father, hardened in wickedness, thus to learn and to follow the way of David, the man after God's own heart?

We are not told; God has wonderful secrets, wonderful ways of making Himself known, even to the heart of a child. Perhaps his mother, Jedidah, may have taught her little son. Perhaps, while Amon was spending his days in wickedness, the child may have learned from the lips of the sorrowful, humbled old man, his grandfather, something of the bitterness of sin, and the brightness of mercy.

The Lord is “wonderful in counsel and excellent in working."

God worked in His own way to bring Josiah to the knowledge of Himself and to fit him for the place which he was to fill as a servant of God.

For Josiah, though a king, was to be a servant, and it would be the highest glory of any king to be a servant of God; it has also been the privilege of some of the least exalted among men to be servants of God. To be a servant of God is a special place, and though it is not quite that of a child, yet a child may learn what that place requires, and what it offers. There are ways, too, in which the Lord will use a child, though we shall see more of this in another chapter.

Besides this, we all have in this world of wants to serve one another, and a child may learn to be a very faithful and useful little servant to many; the spirit of service is a lovely spirit, and when it has been learned from Him who, while down here, could say, though Lord of all, "I am among you as one that serveth," it becomes a sweet fragrance to God.

The Tender Care and the Subject Place, the Rule and the Renewed Heart, all have their part in preparing the Faithful Servant, and though Josiah was not born in a home of faith like Moses, and had not the blessing of a God-fearing father such as Elkanah, though even no priestly uncle like Jehoiada appears in his history, yet he was in God's own way fitted for his place and his work. And every servant of God must be fitted by God. No preparation but God's preparation will do for God's work.

God's resources are infinite; His power can always make a way for the display of His goodness. None can stay His hand, or say to Him, "What doest thou?" And many a little child from many a neglected spot, from behind many a barrier of the world's sin and folly; shall yet be seen in glory, a joyful testimony to the wonderful resources of God.

Do you understand this word—Resources?

Did you ever see a spring coming out from the side of a hill? Oh, how the water rushed forth! How fast it ran away! and yet more and more and more came bubbling up from that little crevice in the hillside. Could you not stand and see it all run down? Would it not soon all have come out? Oh, no! There is a source hidden deep in the hill, and if you could stand all day and all night, and many, many days and nights, still the water would corn e springing out-more and more and more.

In God there is a hidden store

Of grace: He gives, yet giveth more,

And of His fullness all receive,

Who in His precious word believe.

Though thousand needs were met before,

Though thousands yet surround the door,

God giveth ever more and more;

Grace upon grace doth ceaseless pour.

The home of Josiah was, like that of Joash, in Jerusalem. This city was in the south of the land which, after the heathen had been conquered or driven away from it, was known as the land of Israel; it is a land that has had many names; in Heb. 11:9, it is called the Land of Promise; it is often known now as Palestine, also (because Christ dwelt in it) it has received the name of the Holy Land, but in the times of David and Josiah it was generally spoken of as the Land of Israel.

Jerusalem became the capital or chief city of the land after David had taken it away from the heathen Jebusites; it was built upon hills, and hills were round it. You have perhaps read the verse in Psa. 125 that says, “As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about his people from henceforth even forever." The highest hill in Jerusalem was Mount Zion, near it was Mount Moriah; at one time a valley had run between Mount Moriah and Mount Zion, but, as years passed on, this valley became filled up, and the two hills were counted as one, and were together known as Mount Zion. This is, perhaps, why we read so much of Mount Zion and so little of Mount Moriah, and why it might seem that the Temple, in some places, is spoken of as standing upon Mount Zion; though in 2 Chron. 3:1 we read, — "Solomon began to build the house of the Lord at Jerusalem in Mount Moriah."

Perhaps no Israelite, who looked at the bare steep hill of Moriah, on the top of which he could see only the humble threshing floor of Araunah or Oman, the Jebusite, would have supposed that it would have been the place chosen for the magnificent Temple of God: but the Lord had long before made known something of His resources upon this Mountain. It was on Mount Moriah that, more than 800 years before, "A ram" had been "caught in a thicket by his horns," with which God had answered the faith of Abraham, who had "not withheld his son, his only son," and who, as he walked up the Mount with Isaac, whom he loved, had said, "My son, God will provide himself a lamb for a burnt offering." And later on when, because of David's sin in numbering the people, God sent a pestilence upon Israel, "the angel of the Lord was by the threshing place of Araunah the Jebusite," when this messenger of judgment was stopped with the word, "It is enough; stay now thine hand."

So steep was Mount Moriah that there was not on its summit level space enough for the Temple and its courts. It was not, therefore, an easy place for the building, but it was the place which God chose, and that was everything to the man after God's own heart.

God does not leave to man to choose where or how he will worship Him. God chooses.

When God “forsook Shiloh” He "chose...the Mount Zion which he loved," and you know that Moriah is included in this name Zion. If Solomon had used his own wisdom, and had built a Temple on some more convenient spot, perhaps the fruitful plain of Sharon, it might have been a beautiful building, and convenient for the people to get to, and some might have been very pleased with it, but no true Israelite could have found his heart satisfied in such a place, because it was "in Zion" that God was great; it was "out of Zion, the perfection of beauty," that God would shine. The dew “descended upon the mountains of Zion, for there the Lord commanded the blessing."

When God commanded that the Temple should be built upon the summit of steep Moriah, He gave wisdom to do this, though it was difficult, and it stood more firmly upon the little level than it would have done on any plain of man's choosing.

The Temple itself was a small building, but the courts around, and there were several of them, for priests, for men, and for women, occupied a large space, and all together were often called the Temple; thus we read in Luke 18:10, “two men went up into the Temple to pray." The beautiful building of cedar wood, and gold and precious stones, and carved work, was entered only by the priests and those of the Levites who had to minister and serve about the holy things; "their office was to wait on the sons of Aaron for the service of the house of the Lord in the courts and in the chambers, and in the purifying of all holy things, and the work of the service of the house of God. Both for the shewbread and for the fine flour for meat offering and for the unleavened cakes.... and to stand every morning to thank and praise the Lord, and likewise at even, and to offer all burnt sacrifices unto the Lord.... according to the order commanded unto them."

Even the small building was divided into two parts, and into the most holy place, the Oracle, none might enter except the high priest. Just on one day, when the Ark was brought into the Temple, the priest carried it “to the oracle of the house into the most holy place, even under the wings of the Cherubims." The two small golden Cherubims were still on each side of the mercy seat, but besides these there were two large Cherubims overlaid with gold, reaching from one end to the other of the most holy place, above where the Ark was put.

Then, as it stood in the Oracle, “there was nothing in the ark save the two tables which Moses put therein at Horeb," that is the two tables of the Commandments. We are not told what had become of the golden pot that had Manna and Aaron's rod, that budded: The Ark of shittim wood overlaid with gold, with its lid or covering of pure gold, was a figure ever before God of Christ, the One only perfectly Faithful Servant who could say, "I delight to do thy will, O my God, yea, thy law is within my heart."

There was nothing in the Ark besides the two tables. There was nothing in the heart of Christ apart from the will of God. The little verse which you see at the beginning of the chapter speaks of this Perfect Servant; such words could not be said of Josiah, though he was a faithful servant, and a bright light amid the ruin and corruption of his people.

But it was not the bright light of a Jehoiada, a Hezekiah, or a Josiah, that could enable the Holy God of Israel to endure so long the perverse wickedness of the chosen nation. There was nothing in the Ark save the two tables, but there was something upon the mercy seat above the Ark, on which the eye of God always rested; it was the sprinkled blood; though the Ark, with the two tables, spoke ever to the heart of God of Christ, the Perfect Servant in whom His soul delighted, it was the blood-sprinkled mercy seat speaking ever of Christ, the Perfect Sacrifice, on account of which alone God could bear in long-suffering, and yet in righteousness, with the sin of the people.

When the Temple had been finished, and the priests had placed the Ark within the Oracle, there remained yet one precious thing which was to be in that most holy place. It was what no priest could carry in there; it would have been found in no place of man's choosing or man's invention. The priests who had borne the Ark came out through the golden doors of the Oracle, "Also the Levites which were the singers...with their sons and their brethren, being arrayed in white linen, having cymbals, and psalteries, and harps, stood at the east end of the altar, and with them an hundred and twenty priests sounding with trumpets; it came even to pass as the trumpeters and singers were as one to make one sound to be heard in praising and thanking the Lord, and when they lifted up their voice with the trumpets and cymbals and instruments of music, and praised the Lord saying, For he is good, for his mercy endureth forever: that then the house was filled with a cloud, even the house of the Lord; so that the priests could not stand to minister by reason of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord had filled the house of God." The cloud of glory abode in that most holy place above the mercy seat.

Sad indeed were the changes which had taken place in that Temple during the three hundred years that had passed from the day of its glorious acceptance by God until the day of Josiah, the Faithful Servant; his was a day of very special service, for, more than two hundred years before the child appeared, his work had been spoken of and his name mentioned. You may read of this in 1 Kings 13

But before Josiah's work began, we read that "while he was yet young he began to seek after the God of David his father," and we may be sure that he, like many others, proved the truth of the gracious word, “Those that seek me early shall find me."

The servant must first know the Lord before he can serve Him.

Josiah's was not at first the happy service which the God who had brought Israel into that " land flowing with milk and honey " would have ordered, had the people been obedient to Him: many idols and idolatrous altars had to be destroyed; former kings had brought in much evil, and Josiah, according to the word spoken concerning him, burned the bones of the wicked priests upon their own altars, and destroyed the groves and images which had been made throughout all the land of Israel. Then he returned to Jerusalem; his desire now was to repair and to set in order the house of the Lord. God stirred up the hearts of the people, for God always works with His faithful servant; Hilkiah the priest was ready, and the workmen did the work faithfully.

Just at this time a discovery was made which, while it showed the gracious care of God over the young servant-king Josiah, yet was a great disgrace to all the people: “Hilkiah the priest found a book of the law of the Lord given by Moses." No wonder that Josiah had found so many altars of Baalim to break down; no wonder that graves of idolatrous priests could be strewn with the dust of carved images and molten images, when the law of the Lord could be handed by Hilkiah the priest to Shaphan the scribe as " a book that he had found."

I have heard of a story called "The Dusty Bible," and of the woman who rejoiced at finding, among the leaves of her Bible, the silver spoon which she had "lost for years;" perhaps you, too, have heard some such sad stories which remind us of the dark days of Josiah, when the book of the law lay lost and forgotten in a corner of the Temple of God.

Sad was the carelessness of the people of Judah in thus going on without the law, which had been given for their guidance; but great was the mercy of the God of Israel in permitting it now to be found.

Shaphan carried the book to the king.

You must not fancy the book a neatly bound, printed volume like your Bible; it was probably a parchment roll, and written throughout by hand; printing, the wonderful invention which by machinery makes ready a thousand books for a thousand readers in less time than it would take to write one by hand, was not known until 1449 years after Christ, and this book was found 610 years before Christ; so still, for more than two thousand years, scribes were to be engaged in copying the few precious books which men possessed.

Shaphan was a scribe; how it could be that the law of the Lord had been so forgotten I cannot explain, it does not seem that Shaphan and the other scribes could have attended well to their business, or that Josiah, when at eight years old he was crowned, could, like the seven years old Joash, have had the book of the testimony put into his hand or could, by Hilkiah the priest, have been instructed in his royal duty of making for himself a copy that he might read therein day by day; for when Shaphan read the book before Josiah, its contents so surprised him that, having rent his clothes in sorrow of heart at the thought of all the sin and forgetfulness, of which he and the people had been guilty, and of the terrible judgments of God which, on that account, were about to fall upon them, the king sent Hilkiah and Shaphan, and a servant of his own, named Asaiah, with two other persons, to inquire whether all the punishments proclaimed in the law against idolaters were really to fall upon him and his people.

There was one person in Jerusalem who knew more of the mind of God than all the priests or the king, this was a prophetess who lived in a college in Jerusalem. Her name was Huldah, and to her the king's messengers went. It was a disgrace to Israel, and a sign of the weakness and disorder which their sin had caused, to have to learn the mind of God through a woman, but she knew at once how to answer all the king's questions.

It was a terrible message which Huldah had to send back to Josiah. All the curses which he had read in the book were really coming on the unfaithful people, but Josiah himself was not to share in the dreadful punishments.

Why was Josiah thus spared?

It was not because he was a king, for “God is no respecter of persons."

It was not because he had broken down idols and put idol worshippers to death, for no good doings can wipe out evil doings.

Josiah was spared, because his heart was tender; because he humbled himself before God; because he believed the message, and owned how justly he and the people deserved the wrath of God. Josiah owned that he could find no reason why the punishment should not come upon him, and he got a message of mercy.

But all the sad things told in the book were true, and Josiah must make known the word of God; there was a great and solemn gathering of the people; those who lived in Jerusalem were there, the priests and the Levites were there, and all the people great and SMALL. Yes, God saw and speaks of the SMALL who were at that solemn gathering, and they had to listen to the word as much as the great.

The king “stood in his place;” perhaps by the pillar at the porch of the Temple, where kings stood to be crowned; the people, no doubt, stood closely packed in the courts around. This word of God contained much that might well make the hearts of this careless, God-forsaking people to tremble; but if there were, as we may hope, some others whose hearts, like Josiah's were "tender," perhaps among the SMALL of that company, there was a word that spoke of mercy and mercy's provision for the needy.

After the solemn reading of the law, the day of a blessed feast arrived; great preparations had to be made, for so dreadful was the disorder of the Temple that even the holy Ark had to be "put" into its place; it was not found beneath the great cherubim within the golden doors of the Oracle. Then the people kept the Passover.

God was very gracious to them even in that day of ruin: "there was no passover like to that kept in Israel from the days of Samuel the prophet; neither did all the kings of Israel keep such a passover as Josiah kept, and the priests and the Levites, and all Judah and Israel that were present, and the inhabitants of Jerusalem." (2 Chron. 35:18.)

Perhaps, among the hundreds of people who ate of the roasted Passover, and remembered the night of judgment in Egypt, when God had sheltered His people under the blood of the slain lamb, there were some, besides Josiah, who turned with all their heart to the God whose mercy endureth forever.

For seven days the feast lasted, and it must have been a time of thankfulness and rejoicing to Josiah, but there were many other days besides those seven, which must have been days of sorrow and difficulty to the Faithful Servant, for trials are among the things found in the servant's place, but plenteous deliverance is found there too. Josiah was a king, and the king in Israel was one whose word no one thought of disputing, his trials therefore were perhaps more those of the heart than of outward opposition, but many servants of God, before and since the day of Josiah, in almost all lands and all times, have suffered in faithfulness to the Master.

I will not tell you now about the dreadful wickedness of those who persecuted and slew, nor about the deaths of servants of God, but I think you would like to hear a little story of one in trial, and how the Lord graciously provided for his wants at a time when he was in great poverty, but when also God's resources were as full as ever. He has said, “All the beasts of the forest are mine, and the cattle upon a thousand hills."

This man, though he had once been well off, had lost all his money in faithfulness to his duty as a servant of God; so great was his poverty that often he knew not where the next meal would come from for his family. He had several children, and it must have been a real trial to him to see them in want. Besides being a faithful servant, he also had a faithful servant: her name was Martha, and though her master had now no money, either to give her wages or to supply her with the comforts to which she had once been accustomed in his service, she would not leave him, but preferred to share his poverty, and to do what she could to help him in his difficulties.

One day, Martha was called by her master; they had no food in the house, and he had not so much as a sixpence with which to procure anything; but it had come into his mind to send Martha to a neighboring town, called Halifax, where she was to go to a shopkeeper, Mr. N., and see if he would be willing to give them any help.

"The Lord give you good speed," said the master to Martha, “and we, while you are gone, will make known our requests to Him who feedeth the young ravens when they cry." Martha set off upon her errand, and you may be sure that she went not like "the sluggard," who is "as smoke to the eyes of them that send him;" she would remember the sorrowful master and the hungry little children at home, and make haste to the town.

At last she reached Mr. N.'s house, but suddenly her courage failed her, it seemed to her such a strange thing to have to go and beg for her master; so she walked on past the door, then back again: she knew not what to do. Perhaps the Lord put this hesitation into her heart, for though He may allow His servants to see want, and may keep them waiting, which is the trying of their faith, He does not send His servants to beg.

The Lord saw the hungry children and the praying father, and Martha walking up and down outside the door. Mr. N. was in his shop, and what do you think was in his mind just then? While Martha was waiting outside, he was waiting inside and thinking, "I wish I could see somebody belonging to Mr. H."—that was Martha's master. At that moment he turned his head, and he saw Martha; so he ran out to her.

Oh! how glad she must have been now that she had waited, and perhaps while she had waited she had been asking of God instead of asking of man, said the Lord was sending Mr. N. out with the answer which had been ready long before Martha had begun waiting at the door, for God is always before man; we are to make our requests known, and God answers; but it is not our requests that put mercy into His heart for us.

So out ran Mr. N., and soon he stopped Martha, who was walking past the door again.

“I am glad to see you," said he, “are you not Mr. H.'s servant? Some one came a little while ago and left five guineas for your master, and I was just wondering how I could send them."

Poor Martha burst into tears; she told Mr. N. why she had come to Halifax, and all that she had felt when she had reached his door. Soon she filled her basket with food for the hungry family, and you may think how quickly she returned home, and how glad she was, when the little children ran eagerly to meet her, that she had brought them all they needed, and while they were peeping at the good things in the basket the master listened to her story, and said, "The Lord hath not forgotten to be gracious; they that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing."

Josiah, or Mr. H., or any servant of God may always say to himself in the moment of trial, "Is anything too hard for the Lord?" but at the same time the spirit of the true servant must be that of Paul, "None of these things move me, neither count I my life dear unto myself."

The word which had so touched the heart of Josiah had also guided and comforted the heart of Mr. H., for the word of the Lord must ever be the guide and support of the

Faithful Servant, and it is as true for us to-day as it was for Mr. H. two hundred years ago, or for Josiah two thousand years ago. It is sad to think how Jehoiakim, the son of Josiah, treated the word of God when it was read to him, only twenty years later. I cannot now tell you all the dreadful story, but you may read it for yourselves in the 36th chapter of Jeremiah, and while the piety of Josiah, the son of the wicked Amon, speaks to us of the resources of the grace of God, the wickedness of Jehoiakim, the son of faithful Josiah, solemnly reminds us that a father cannot touch the heart of his son; it was not Lydia's father, or Paul the apostle, but the Lord who opened the heart of Lydia, so that she attended to the things spoken; and alas, for the one whose heart does not bow to the word of God! whoever or whatever his father may be; the wicked father will be no excuse, and the faithful father can be no shelter in that day, of which God tells us in Proverbs: "Because I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; but ye have set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof: I also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock when your fear cometh; when your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me: for that they hated knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord." (Prov. 1:24-29.)

We read little of the childhood of Josiah because, as I said before, the special place of the Servant is not a child's place; yet the Lord sees if even a child has the desire to serve Him, and one thing will mark such a child, it is the mark of the child-servant as of the elder: he will seek to be faithful in little things. The little thing entrusted to us is just as important as the great thing, because, little or great, it is a trust from God.

There was once a servant of God who, from his great age, had become almost as feeble as a child, At one time he had preached to crowds of Indians, but now his voice was low, he could not be beard in a multitude; his body was weak, he could not take great journeys; his mind, too had not the power of former days, he could not do great things; but he was still ready to do little things. His friends came in one day and said to him, “Oh, rest yourself now, you are not fit for any more work," Beside the aged man a little Indian child was standing. "I cannot do great things," said this Faithful Servant, " I can no longer preach, but I can teach this child his alphabet, so that he may learn to read God's message for himself."

There was a child, too, who had never done great things, but she had a wish to serve, and how do you think she began? She began with a little duty which is close at hand to every one of you; she always tried to give up to the other little ones in the nursery. Every servant must learn the lesson of self-forgetfulness. Selfishness can never be a servant. And as we saw in the Subject place the one who would be ready to answer a call from God is now ready to hear a call from his or her parents; so with the Faithful Servant; the one ready to serve God will be ready, by the way, to serve others in little things.

I have known many dear little servants; if you were going out they would run to get your hat, or your shawl, or your parasol, or whatever you might want; if you came in, they would jump up from their book or their work to get you a chair; for chairs, although they have legs and sometimes arms, never have hearts, so they cannot think of running forward to see if they are wanted, as the dear little servants can.

It needs a willing heart, as well as legs and arms, to make a ready servant.

I know a window from which I can see over a large field; one corner of this field is a village play-ground, and here one class of the “little servants " can often be seen; they are those who are sent out in charge of the baby brother or sister.

Oh I what a precious trust the little child is!

Each little child is alike precious; but are all the little care-takers alike faithful?

No; very different little care-takers may be seen: some will lead the little one, or will roll the perambulator carefully in a sunny part, and will pick little flowers, or sticks, or stones for the baby, and I am sure they are well paid with the little one's pleasure and love; but some seem to think it is quite enough to leave the little carriage where it will not be likely to be run over; no matter how cold it may be for the baby under the damp hedge, away goes the unfaithful servant to his or to her own play; the poor baby may cry, but that cannot be heard, they are having so much noise and fun in the sunny field.

I suppose the play is very enticing, and it may be dull to stay so much by the baby, or to have either to go slowly for his tiny feet, or to carry him, when he is more than half as long as you are, and perhaps nearly twice as broad.

But there is one kind of servant for whom I can make no excuse. A few chapters ago I spoke of some hard-hearted or thoughtless children, who appear to find pleasure in the pain of donkeys, dogs, cats, flies, and other harmless creatures; but what can be said of brothers and sisters who take pleasure in making the poor confiding baby, whom mother has trusted to them, cry with terror, by leading him up to a barking dog and then running away! Many other unkind tricks these same bad servants will do, but I do not wish to write, and you would not wish to read, more about them.

Can such children ever have heard of Him who went about doing good, and who took the little children up in His arms? If they have heard of Him, I fear they have thought but little of Him. Perhaps these bad servants may say it is a little thing and they mean no harm; but "he that is unjust in the least, is unjust also in much."

While we are talking of nurses, perhaps you would like to hear a story of a faithful Scotch nurse.

In order to be this faithful nurse, she had not only to give up her own pleasure, but to risk her life for the sake of her little charge; she lived many many years ago, at a time when Scotland was not the peaceable and pleasant country it now is: the Highlanders, or inhabitants of northern Scotland, were very ready to fight and to plunder one another. A certain Highlander, being more quiet than the rest, had obtained the name of the Peaceful Laird of Invernahyle, and an unruly neighbor of his took advantage of his quietness to surprise his house, and kill him and his family. Such is the wickedness of man, and such was the lawlessness of those times. One tiny infant alone was saved by his nurse; she attempted to run away with him, but finding this impossible, she still would not forsake her charge, and hid him in a little cleft or fissure of a rock, though by doing this she lost her own chance of escape, and was taken prisoner. The wicked robbers knew that one child had escaped, and they threatened to kill the poor nurse if she would not tell where she had hidden him, but she kept her secret, even though at the risk of her life; after two days the men grew tired of talking with the nurse, or else they thought that she really did not know where the baby was; for such cruel selfish men could not perhaps even suppose what a faithful servant would endure, and they sent her away. What do you think she did then? Did she think about going to her own home? Or getting away as fast as possible from the robbers I No; she thought of the poor baby. Could it have lived all through those two days alone in that little cleft? She had had no proper food to give it, all she could do was to tie a piece of bacon to a string round its neck, and she hoped that the wonderful instinct which is given to the helpless would make the child keep itself alive, even with this disagreeable food. Still, it was with an anxious heart that the loving nurse went to the hole in the rock where she had left the baby. I fear this poor woman had no thought of the Tender Care of God, which might have comforted her. In those lonely mountains, wolves and wild cats, and all sorts of great, hungry birds of prey were prowling and hovering about, so she had little hope of seeing anything except what these fierce creatures might have left of the child's body.

But the Care which she knew not had been there, and the devotion of the faithful nurse was well repaid when she found the little child alive and well in its strange little home; though it was time she came to the little one, for the bacon was nearly all gone.

Little messengers are another class of servants, and I am sure we have all seen, and most of us have often been of, this class. The window I know of shows a number of little messengers; through rain and sunshine they hurry along, some carrying the basket to the shop, some taking home the welcome loaf, some, and these are very important little people, taking the basket mother has packed so carefully with father's dinner or father's tea; they must take care not to run so fast as to slip on some unexpected stone, and not to leave the charge for a moment's play, for it would be sad indeed if father, who is working so hard for them, should lose his dinner or his tea through their carelessness.

Not long ago, I read about one these little messengers, and a faithful messenger she was; she lived in a large, busy town, and her father, who was doing some work at a distance, could not spare time to return to his dinner, so every day his little daughter had to carry it to him. One day, the mother had filled the basin as usual, and the little girl (after many cautions, I dare say) started on her errand. It was summer, and the weather was hot, very hot indeed that day at the men's dinner hour, but no blue sky or summer sunshine could be seen: a terrible black cloud hung lower and lower over the whole town. The mother had looked anxiously from the door, as she watched her little messenger go down the street; a few great drops of rain were already falling, and rumbling thunder could be heard, but father must have his dinner, so the little feet must keep on, step after step, down the street, across the square, into the lane.

The raindrops had changed now into great big hailstones; bright flashes of lightning came blindingly across her eyes, the wind did its best to blow her down at every corner, but the little girl held her basin as tight as she could with both hands, and walked bravely on; suddenly, however, such a shower of such great hailstones came down, with such wind and lightning and thunder that all who were in that part of the street, at that busy hour, ran for shelter into a small covered passage, and the little girl ran in with them; for even big men could not stand against the violence of the storm, and you may think what it was for a child of scarcely eight years old to be exposed to it. The passage, however, was little better than the street; during the next peal of thunder, which was not long in coming, something struck the entrance, and stones and rubbish of all sorts fell around!

Who could tell if the whole passage, in this crowded old corner of the town, were not about to fall upon them?

The poor little messenger was half stunned and half bewildered with the surprise and noise.

She was not much hurt; and soon the storm cleared off, and people came to move away the rubbish, and to help those who were in the midst of it; and when the little girl was picked up, what do you think, in the midst of all the darkness and fright and confusion, were her first words?

Was she ready to cry? or to think about a few little bruises or scratches she had got, or about her wet clothes? No, indeed! She was thinking about her trust, and instead of being anxious to get out of the passage as fast as possible and home to her mother, her first words were, “Oh! where's my basin?"

So the rubbish had to be looked into as well as the darkness would allow, and there was the basin, covered in its cloth and unbroken. What had become of father all this time, or how he got his dinner that day I cannot tell you; but I dare say he thought a great deal less of himself and his dinner than of his faithful little messenger.

Self-forgetfulness and devotedness may be shown, like carelessness or selfishness, in very little things; for “he that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much." Every child gets trusted in something, sometimes; it may be to carry a message, or to carry a little parcel; or it may be, trusted to remember and to obey in some little thing, or trusted to learn a lesson; what you are trusted in makes no difference, all the difference is this: Are you Faithful or are you Unfaithful?

So many things are needed even to make the faithful servant for little every-day wants; he must be able to bear trials, he must be self-forgetful and devoted, he must have the willing heart. All these things are likewise needful in the faithful servant of God.

And if you read the description given in Isa. 42:1-3 of Christ, the Perfect Servant, you will find another quality especially marked in Him. It was gentleness. How truly the little verse, which perhaps you have learned, speaks of Him as “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild." The spirit of the servant must be got from Christ to be acceptable to God, so of the servant who is to follow Christ, we read in 2 Tim. 2:24: “The servant of the Lord must not strive; but be gentle unto all men, apt to teach, patient." Is there not here something which even the child, who cannot do great things, may seek to learn from Him who said, “Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart"? The blessed servant Paul said, "I was gentle among you as a nurse cherisheth her children." But between the servant of man and the servant of God there is this great difference: we serve one another because we see one another in need. In serving God it is not so; we serve God because we are His. When we serve Him we can only say as David did, "All things come of thee, and of thine own have we given thee." (1 Chron. 29:14.) God is not "worshipped with men's, hands as though he needed anything, seeing he giveth to all life and breath and all things." To be a servant of God is a precious privilege. “If any man serve me, him will my Father honor." “If any man serve me, let him follow me; and where I am there shall also my servant be." And in the bright day of eternal blessing, it is said, “His servants shall serve him, and his name shall be on their foreheads."

Do you wish to serve Him?

In order to follow Christ as the Faithful Servant we must know Christ as the Gracious Servant, who “came not to be ministered unto but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many." When we know this Gracious Servant we can say, “He loved me and gave himself for me."

We only read one thing of Josiah, the child, and it is this: “While he was yet young he began to seek after the God of David his father." Yes, to walk in the ways of David he must know the God of David; and we, if we would walk in the ways of the Servant who was greater than David, must know Him. “This is life eternal that they might know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou halt sent."

Josiah could not know "Jesus Christ," for in his day "Jesus Christ” had not been “sent." Josiah had to seek; there was no new and living way opened by which Josiah could draw near; but

“I have not now to seek Him,
In love He sought for me."

“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." If we feel obliged to seek, is because we have gone astray like lost sheep. It is not because He is far off.

We may say, "I have gone astray like a lost sheep: seek thy servant." And what a blessed answer we get! “The Son of man came to seek and to save that which was lost," and "He that seeketh findeth,"

There was a tale told, long ago,

And yet, most strange to say,

The story is as sweetly true

For you and me to-day.

And yet not strange, for Tie who spoke

Forever is the same

And all His words are life and grace,

Unchanging as His name.

A Shepherd, so the story tells,

Went forth to seek lost sheep,

To save the little helpless ones,

Who were in danger deep.

Far, far He journey'd in His search,

Words fail how far to tell;

And yet He turn'd not back, because

He loved the lost so well.

Hungry, at times; and wearied oft,

By rough ways wounded sore;

It cost Him much to search, but yet

He thought the sheep worth more.

Hour after hour that way He trod,

So rough, so dark, so long;

And yet He halted not, because

His love was deep and strong.

At last He found the lost one; where,

The story does not say;

But marks upon the Shepherd told

The dangers of the way.

His brow was wounded, as by thorns,

And pierced was His side;

And many deep deep scars He bore

On hands and feet beside.

Yet brightest triumph, love, and joy,

Shine all His features o'er;

The once lost helpless sheep is found,

And shall be lost no more.

Who loved us when we knew Him not?

Who came the lost to save?

Who, to redeem the helpless sheep,

His precious life-blood gave?

Jesus, the well-loved Son of God;

Jesus, oh none but He

Himself, God's holy spotless Lamb,

Could our "Good Shepherd " be.

Such love! He left the glory bright,

Our poor lost souls to save.

Such power! Though for our sins He died,

He triumph'd o'er the grave.

He rose; and, in the Father's house,

Those who here learn His love,

Forever with Himself shall share

God's cloudless rest above.

Chapter 5: The Children of Bethel (Or, the Fear of the Lord)

“THE fear of the Lord is to hate evil." (Prov. 8:13.)

“By the fear of the Lord men depart from evil." (Prov. 16:6.)

“Well we know the Lord of glory
Always sees what children do,
And is writing now the story
Of our thoughts and actions too."

Mrs. Shelly

2 Kings 2:1-15 AND 23, 24

2KI 2:1-15, 23, 24THIS is a terrible story, though it is a short one; for in that Book which is apart from all other books, one among the many things we may notice is how much is made known to us in a few words. The shortest verse in all the Bible, only two words, tells what has comforted the hearts of hundreds in the hour of sorrow, and in the 2nd chapter of 2 Kings, one of the most wonderful events that ever happened among men is described in a few short lines:

“And it came to pass, as they still went on and talked, that behold there appeared a chariot of fire and horses of fire and parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven."

Elisha was servant to Elijah; he was also a holy man of God; he had gone with his master from Gilgal to Bethel, and again from Bethel to Jericho, on through the plain of Jericho, then across the pathway smitten by Elijah's mantle through the midst of Jordan; then, on the further side of Jordan, amid the lonely mountains which bordered close upon its deep waters, the two had talked together until Elijah had been taken up into heaven.

Elisha had stood and looked upon the wondrous sight, but now Elijah was gone; Elisha could see his beloved master no more; nothing was left but the mantle which Elijah would need no longer; no more contentions with the enemies of God for Elijah, no more flights from wicked rulers, no more toilsome journeys—Elijah was gone up to heaven. Elisha took up his master's mantle, and then, in all the dignity of the faith, the love, and the sorrow which filled his heart—clothed, too, with the power of Elijah—he began his lonely journey back to Bethel.

Would not all who saw him look with reverence on the man who alone had been permitted to behold the heavenly vision? Would they not listen to catch a word of power and love from those lips which had last spoken with the prophet whom heaven had claimed? Would they not feel for the sorrow of the lonely friend and servant of the man of God? We might have supposed so, but in this dreadful story of the Children of Bethel we have quite another picture.

From the river Jordan to Bethel was about twenty miles, and already, before he reached that city, the power of Elisha, the man of God, had flowed out in grace—he had healed the waters of Jericho so that the barren land became fruitful; then he went on to Bethel. Once, a heavenly vision had been seen at Bethel; it was there that Jacob had lain upon his pillow of stones, and had dreamed of the "ladder set up on the earth," whose top reached to heaven, and on which he beheld the angels of God ascending and descending. More than this: God Himself had looked upon that spot where Jacob lay, and had spoken with the wanderer, and when Jacob awaked out of his sleep he said, “Surely the Lord is in this place," and he gave it the name of Bethel, which means House of God.

Ah, well would it have been for the little children of that city, if they had learned and remembered these words of their forefather Israel: “Surely the Lord is in this place!”

About eight hundred and sixty years had passed since the night of Jacob's dream, but God had not departed from Bethel: “His eyes behold, his eyelids try the children of men." Alas! for the children of Bethel, when they forgot those Eyes of Jehovah.

And “The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good." You may not be in Bethel, but you are, as much as the children of Bethel, under the eyes of the Lord. You may not act as did the children of Bethel, but we read—"I the Lord search the heart." God had not left Bethel all the eight hundred and sixty years, without a solemn reminder of His presence; Bethel had been the dwelling-place of the old prophet who told a lie, and just outside Bethel was the spot where the man of God, who had turned from the command of the Lord to the lie of the deceitful prophet, had been slain by a lion in the way. Perhaps there were some among the older inhabitants of the city who even remembered the dreadful day of the disobedient prophet's death, for it was not more than 79 years before the other dreadful day of which I am now going to tell you, and perhaps the fathers of the old people in Bethel might have been among the "men" who "passed by and saw the carcass cast in the way, and the lion standing by the carcass." Many children of Bethel had, no doubt, since seen the spot and heard the terrible story.

It may have been near this very spot that Elisha was when the wicked children met him. Was it just two children, or three, who had remained thus careless of the presence of the Lord and the warnings given to Bethel? No, quite a crowd of little children came forth from this wicked city—forty-two; there might have been more, forty-two is the only number mentioned, and oh! was not that enough?

Forty-two children had gone out of the city, and would return no more; fifteen, twenty, thirty, I cannot say exactly how many, but many mothers would weep that day for the children whom they would behold no more; fifteen, twenty, thirty doors had shut forever on the ungodly children.

What a sound burst upon the ears of the gracious, sorrowful man of God, as he was going up by the way to Bethel; the children mocked him and said, “Go up, thou bald head. Go up, thou bald head." Yes, these little children dared to speak thus to the holy man of God; and to speak rudely and mockingly to Elisha would have been alone a sin with which God would have been displeased. When children are disrespectful to the aged, God is displeased, for He has said, “Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and honor the face of the old man, and fear thy God. I am the Lord." How much more when children dare, by manner or words, to slight or mock a servant of God!

Thus we may see two things in the behavior of these children which were offensive to God; but there was another thing, worse even than this: perhaps the children, when they left their homes that day, had little guessed what a dreadful tale would soon be told of them; when we begin in willfulness we know not where we shall end. These children were like those who say, “Our lips are our own, who is Lord over us?" But when the Lord does not keep the door of our mouth, when we say our lips are our own, there is one, the enemy of children, the enemy of souls, who is ready to use those unkept lips.

Did you ever think about this enemy? He is called the “wolf," who “catcheth the sheep;" he is a liar and a murderer from the beginning. Oh, what a dreadful enemy! that old serpent who deceived Eve-the devil, who goes about "as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour." His name is Satan.

Satan likes to see children willful; oh, how fast then he drives them on to more sin, and he gives wages to his servants, dreadful wages: “The wages of sin is death."

Perhaps all the forty-two children did not go out at once to meet Elisha, a few most likely went first, a few began the cry, then another joined and another until forty-two children fell into the temptation and were caught in the snare; ah! when you are willful you know not what temptation may be waiting for you, or how far you may fall in a moment. One child alone, perhaps, or two, would not have dared thus to shout at the prophet, but the forty-two seemed a strong company; in their foolish eyes the one holy man of God looked nothing to be afraid of. But God's all-seeing eye saw each of those forty-two children as plainly as though each had stood alone in the way beside Elisha. “Though hand join in hand, he shall not be unpunished."

Foolish children! foolish indeed, for they had not "the fear of the Lord which is the beginning of wisdom." Their words, “Go up, thou bald head," were more than mockery of Elisha, they were mockery of what God had done These children, in their wicked folly, mocked at what it was said that God had done in taking Elijah up to heaven. They could not understand the holy mystery, and they made light of it.

God was not going to explain His mysteries to wicked, rebellious children; they would not find themselves taken to heaven.

“He loves the little ones to teach,
And put his truth within their reach."

But “Surely he scorneth the scorners." Nothing great, no vision from heaven was sent to these scorners; an earthly, common yet awful event was to prove their folly to them, and to all who should come after them.

The clamorous children dared to approach and to surround Elisha; his very quietness and grace perhaps added to their wicked boldness, but now they would learn the awful danger of despising grace.

“Elisha turned back and cursed them in the name of the Lord;" that is, he pronounced a message of anger and punishment from God upon them. Yes, Elisha, the man of faith, of love, of sorrow, of grace, cursed these children. How awful! from the lips of grace to hear a curse. How dreadful! to see the eyes of love turned on them in anger. And there is One, a Man of Grace, beyond Elisha, “All bare him witness, and wondered at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth." Those who listened to Jesus were forced to say, “Never man spake as this man." Yet there is a day when those lips of grace shall speak such words as these: “Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." Jesus, the gift of God's love, once the Man of grace and sorrow, will be seen one day as the Messenger of God's wrath, the Man of power and glory. “The Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven with his mighty angels in flaming fire taking vengeance."

And on whom will He take vengeance? " On them that know not God, and that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ: Who shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his power, when he shall come to be glorified in his saints, and to be admired in all them that believe."

Not far from where Elisha and the children were standing, there was a wood. Perhaps these little children sometimes played there, but they would play there no more; their voices no doubt had sounded many a time upon that same road, but playful tones would be heard from them no more. One last sound was to come forth from their lips, in answer to the curse of the man of God: a scream of terror, a groan of death, and then silence forever.

Out of that wood, obedient to the will of God, executors of His judgment upon the ungodly, mocking children, “there came forth two she-bears and tare forty and two children of them."

God could shut the mouths of lions that they should not hurt the praying Daniel. God could restrain the poisonous adder that it should not hurt the prisoner Paul. God could also fill these two bears with rage to destroy these wicked children.

Did you ever see a bear? His shaggy brown coat, his long heavy body, his thick rough legs, his great paws, and his wide cruel mouth set with sharp strong teeth? Oh, what terror must have filled the hearts of those children, when the fierce eyes of the two bears glistened on them from among the trees of the wood, and the two monsters sprang upon them! None could help the other then, though hand joined in hand.

Elijah had been gone from earth in a moment; and but one had seen him go; what terrible proof had these unbelieving children that God could remove them too in a moment, with but one, and that same one, to see them go!

Elisha passed on his way; the history of these little children had reached its sad end-at least, their earthly history had reached its end; it had ended in death, but there is, "After death the judgment," and it may be, in the awful day of the Great White Throne, when the "dead small and great stand before God," that among the small who stand there, will be those "little children" of Bethel.

Sorrow must have filled the town of Bethel when the solemn event of that day became known; perhaps, in the midst of the weeping that must have been heard in many a little child's home that night, some remembered the night, nearly six hundred years before, when "There was a great cry in Egypt, for there was not a house where there was not one dead." Did any then remember the slain lamb, and the sprinkled door, and God's word of mercy. “When I see the blood I will pass over you?" We know not.

There was once a little boy who dreamed about the Day of Judgment; his name was Johnny. Poor little Johnny could neither hear nor speak, he was deaf and dumb; perhaps it was for this reason that God taught him by a dream, for now that we have the whole word of God, we do not often get teaching by dreams, as in the old times when but half the scripture was given. A kind Christian lady taught Johnny every day, and took great pains with him, but as he could neither hear what she said nor answer her in words, it was very difficult to know how much he understood. There was a dangerous illness going about in the place where Johnny lived, and many had died after a short time of suffering. How quickly a child, or even a grown person, often dies when a dangerous illness lays hold of them. "Ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little time and then vanisheth away." The lady thought how dreadful it would be if Johnny should die before he had learned about God's judgment and God's mercy, and she prayed that God would enable her to teach these things to the poor boy, although it was so difficult. Accordingly, when Johnny came to his lesson the next day, the lady put the usual lesson books aside, and looked very gravely at her poor little deaf pupil, by which he understood that there was something new and very important to be learned that day, and he, in his turn, fixed his eyes on his friend, by which he showed, though he could not reply, that he was ready to pay great attention to the new lesson.

Then the lady took a piece of paper and a pencil. She drew a great fire, by which she meant to tell Johnny of that fire spoken of in the ninth chapter of Mark and the forty-third verse—

“And if thy hand offend thee, cut it off: it is better for thee to enter into life maimed, than having two hands to go into hell, into the fire that never shall be, quenched: where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched."

And again in the next verse: "And if thy foot offend thee, cut it off: it is better for thee to enter halt into life, than having two feet to be cast into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched: where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched."

Again, a third time, "And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, it is better for thee to enter into the kingdom of God with one eye, than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire: where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched."

Yes, any suffering here is better than to be cast into that dreadful place, " Where there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth." Still, no suffering of ours could deliver from that dreadful place; nothing but the suffering of Christ, who “once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust," could “bring us to God."

Johnny looked at the great fire; then, by his looks, he inquired, What was it for? Oh great was his surprise when the lady drew men, women, and children; Johnny looked anxiously at her, but she could not comfort him yet, there was something still worse to be told; the lady, in answer to his looks of alarm, gravely shook her head, and then drew the picture that always meant herself, and, at last, the picture that Johnny knew to be his own. Poor speechless Johnny, though he could hear nothing, well understood that it was an earnest and dreadful truth the lady was telling him; his fear and sorrow now broke out in cries and tears; he took the hand of his kind friend, he wept over it, he made known that the fire must not be for her; then he became angry; he began to shake his fist at the picture of the flames, but the lady stopped him, she had something more to tell; it was no one Johnny could fight against, who had appointed this punishment for sin, it was God; the lady had signs by which she made this known. Johnny understood at once, he had learned about the power and goodness of God who had made all things, but God " angry with the wicked " was a new thought to him; he wept bitterly and clung to his friend with beseeching looks as if to implore her to save him. Ah, Johnny felt his need of a friend, but the kind lady could not be that friend.

"Which of all our friends to save us,
Could or would have shed his blood?
But our Jesus died to have us
Reconciled in Him to God;
This was boundless love indeed!
Jesus is a Friend in need."

The kind lady could not be the friend whom Johnny needed, she could only point again to the picture of herself being sent along, like all the other men, women, and children into the terrible flames. Johnny must learn that every one alike has earned by his doings the judgment of God and the punishment of sin.

What could poor Johnny do now?

Nothing; he could only cry.

What could any poor sinful child do without Jesus the Savior?

Ah, nothing but weep forever and ever.

But Johnny was not to weep forever. After he had cried for a time the lady made known to him that she had something more to say, something comforting. Johnny dried his tears and ventured to look again at the dreadful picture. Then, on the opposite side of the paper, the lady drew the figure of one Man alone coming forward towards the fire, and by signs she made known to Johnny that because of what He had suffered, the men, women, and children could be saved from that dreadful fire.

Johnny appeared to be rather comforted, and he looked at the new picture of the one Man, and by signs expressed his joy, but soon a new trouble arose. Johnny, though he could not speak, could think, and he had a very thoughtful mind.

What do you think now troubled him?

It was this: Was the goodness of that One enough to save the whole multitude of condemned men, women, and children

Johnny made signs to his friend: the Savior was only One; the condemned were many, very many. Now, how could the lady teach the deaf child that Jesus was One apart from all men, the One in whom sin is not; no picture or earthly figure could really show what Jesus is, because He is, though a Man, yet a divine Being. He was “that Holy Thing," the Son of God; but the lady trusted that God would, by His Holy Spirit, teach the poor child; and you know that we, though not deaf and dumb, must learn also of that great Teacher—the Holy Spirit.

The lady, meantime, used means to make known to Johnny that, in comparison with that One who had come forward as Savior, all the inhabitants of the world were as nothing at all: she went to the window where some flowers were in pots, and she picked up a little earth and a few tiny bits of stick and dead leaves; these she put upon the many; then, taking a gold ring from her finger, she laid it upon the One. Then Johnny understood.

Many other things the lady told Johnny that day; she made known to him about the Judgment of the great white throne, about the dead small and great standing before God, about the books which were opened, and in which "the story" was written "of their thoughts and actions too;" then she told him about the precious blood of Christ which alone can blot out sin from God's sight, and make the sinner clean and fit for the light of God's presence.

When Johnny went to bed that night, it was not surprising that he dreamed of the wonderful things he had been told; perhaps, as he could not talk, he thought more than many children; and it might be well for children sometimes, though they are not dumb, to talk little and think more. Johnny dreamed that the day of the great white throne had come, and that sinners, one by one, were being called up before God.; Johnny heard their stories read out of the books that were opened, and he saw that there was nothing in those, stories to save the sinners from being sent away into everlasting punishment; at last, in his dream, Johnny heard his name; it was his turn to be brought up there. Oh, what fear he felt! He knew a little of what his story in those books would be, and there was nothing in it to comfort him. The book was opened, his page was turned up, but there was nothing to be read there. Johnny could see nothing, and nothing was to be seen, but the precious blood which had blotted it all out, and Johnny saw, standing by his side, the One in the picture, Jesus the Savior, and He showed Johnny's name in the book of Life, and took Johnny by the hand to lead him away as His own from the place of judgment.

Then Johnny awoke.

The next day he told his kind friend of his dream, and she thanked God who had thus taught the poor deaf and dumb boy.

Johnny did not catch the illness which his friend feared for him, but lived for some time, to show by his ways that he had not only heard of Jesus, but had received Him by faith in his heart.

Perhaps you may read more of Johnny, or some of you may already have read about him in a book called “The Happy Mute," written by his kind friend, Charlotte Elizabeth. Johnny had many blessed truths to learn, besides those which were made known to him that day: among others he might learn that it was "the Father sent the Son to be the Savior of the world," and that to those who "receive him," that is Jesus, "to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name," and it is to those who thus "receive him" that Jesus has said, "And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am there ye may be also." Before that day of the great white throne, they will be with Jesus and like Jesus; they will never be left, as poor Johnny in his dream, to feel all the horror of being judged among the dead. “Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment, but is passed from death unto life."

In your own Bible you may find the word "condemnation," but that was a mistake made by the men who translated the New Testament from Greek or Latin into English; that word should have been written “judgment." How blessed for us when we read of God's judgment against sin, to be able also to read such words as these, and to know they are the words of "God who cannot lie" to us.

There is no child-story in all the scripture, I think, which is so dreadful as this of the Children of Bethel, but God has recorded it there for us to read; God does not delight in judgment, though He hates sin; God delights in mercy and it is His mercy which gives such warnings as these, just as it was true love in Johnny's friend, which made her draw the dreadful picture, though it made him cry. He would have us learn and abide in the fear of the Lord. These children had not the fear of the Lord; they had to learn “the terror of the Lord."

The Lord says to us by such warnings, “Let not thine heart envy sinners, bat, be thou in the fear of the Lord all the day long."

Perhaps you are ready to say—Who could envy the wretched children of Bethel?

Ah! who could envy them, when judgment had fallen upon them. But do children never envy others who are doing or having what they are not allowed to do or have? May there not have been, even in Bethel, some children besides those forty-two, who would willingly have gone with the crowd that ran out to meet Elisha, but whose parents would not allow them to join the rude unruly children? Do you think Amram or Jochabed would have let Moses run with the mockers? or would Hannah have let her little Samuel, whom she had asked of God, be found in the company of those who feared Him not? A father like poor Eli might have seen such wicked sons as Hophni and Phinehas in that crowd. We may be sure that most of the children who reached such an extremity of wickedness, and upon whom such sudden destruction came, had often, in their homes at Bethel, given proof of the rebellious spirit that was in them, and were such as those who sheltered their little ones in the Subject Place would not allow to them as friends and companions. “He that walketh with wise men shall be wise, but a companion of fools shall be destroyed."

Oh, what a lesson the children kept at home might learn that day! “Let not thine heart envy sinners." What a warning we who read may receive! “The fear of the Lord is clear, enduring forever: the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, yea than much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb. Moreover by them is thy servant warned: and in keeping of them there is great reward. Who can understand his errors cleanse thou me from secret faults. Keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins."

In 2 Cor. 5:11 we read of “The terror of the Lord;" Paul says, “Knowing therefore the terror of the Lord we persuade men." The terror of the Lord is that which must be known one day by those who refuse to learn the fear of the Lord. The terror of the Lord is mighty, destroying, and dreadful. Of this terror we read Isa. 2 —"And they shall go into the holes of the rocks, and into the caves of the earth, for fear of the Lord, and for the glory of his majesty, when he ariseth to shake terribly the earth." Also in Rev. 6, “And the kings of the earth, and the great men and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondsman, and every free man hid themselves in the dens, and in the rocks of the mountains." If you read Mal. 3:16-18 and 4:1, 2, you will see very plainly the difference between those who fear the Lord, "that thought upon his name," and those who fear Him not, who do wickedly, and are overtaken by the terror of the Lord. The fear of the Lord is the continual remembrance of His presence. It is likewise mighty, but it is preserving and precious.

“In the fear of the Lord is strong confidence." “The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life." A treasure. Prolongeth days. Gives a heritage. “Better is little with the fear of the Lord than great treasure and trouble therewith."

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge." “And by knowledge shall the chambers be filled with all precious and pleasant riches." If any one has not the fear of the Lord, he is without knowledge, he knows not who it is that he is thus forgetting. “With God there is terrible majesty. Touching the Almighty, we cannot find him out; he is excellent in power, and in judgment, and in plenty of justice: he will not afflict. Men do therefore fear him." “Hast thou an arm like God, or canst thou thunder with a voice like him?” “The voice of the Lord is powerful, the voice of the Lord is full of majesty." “Great and marvelous are thy works, Lord God Almighty; just and true are thy ways, thou King of Saints. Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name." “Great is the glory of the Lord." But “Though the Lord be high, yet hath he respect unto the lowly."

Yes, all this power and greatness is not told of to make us afraid of God; all this power and greatness is to protect the lowly against the terrible enemy, the wolf, who tries to catch the sheep; if there is but a child who fears the Lord, who thinks upon Him, who remembers that God hears, that God sees, God remembers and keeps that child when the wolf is trying to tempt and to catch him.

There were once two little boys; they were cousins, and they were hath nearly the same age, just five years old; they were alike in another thing, a very sad thing. Each of these poor little boys had a very cruel, wicked father; one father had gone quite away to be a soldier, and had left his wife and his poor little son to get on as best they could; the other father lived by selling fish and other things in the street; he might have been able to supply his wife and child with food and clothes, but he was idle, and earned but little; he was also selfish, and liked only to spend what he earned upon himself. Most likely he had been an idle, selfish and willful boy, before he had grown into this bad father.

The two mothers and the two little boys lived together, and did what they could to help one another. The mothers kept the home clean and as tidy as they could, and did their best to earn what was needful, but it was little they could earn, and the poor little boys had to spend many hungry days; when the two mothers earned what would provide dry bread enough for the whole day, their joy and thankfulness were great.

The two little cousins went together to an Infant School, and there they learned a text. You have most likely learned this same text. I wonder if you have thought about it, and have made as good use of it as did these little boys; it is a text which teaches the fear of the Lord, which would keep us constantly remembering that we are in God's presence "THOU GOD SEEST ME."

The little boys thought much of what they learned, though they were only just five years old; when they came home from school, they would repeat their texts and hymns to their poor mothers, and would tell them all they had heard; they could not bring money to the poor, hungry home, but they brought what they could to cheer the hearts of their mothers.

One day, they were playing together in the yard behind their house; it was one of the hungry days, they had eaten what bread there was for breakfast, but there had been nothing for dinner when they came home from school. The father had been out that morning selling herrings, but he had brought back no money to his poor wife; he had gone out to spend it on himself, and had put his basket with the herrings that were left in one corner of the yard, where the little boys were at play.

Oh 1 how good those herrings smelt to the poor hungry children, and how hard it was even to play when it was so long since they had had anything to eat.

One of the children looked longingly into the basket, and suddenly, for he felt he could resist no longer, he took a herring and put it to his mouth, but the other little boy ran quickly to him, and caught hold of his hand, saying "Oh, put it down! for the great God is looking down upon you from the sky." In a moment, the child dropped the herring again into the basket, for he remembered, "Thou God seest me."

What a reproof are those poor little dinnerless boys to any children who perhaps quickly give way to the temptation of taking what has not been given to them! not because they are very hungry, but because the thing looks nice, and tempts them.

This is, perhaps, a sin into which only very little children fall, but there are many other temptations all along the way as we grow older, and all along the way, "Thou God seest me," is a kind of lantern by which we should do well to examine what we are inclined to do. “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path."

But, alas! there are in this world those “who love darkness rather than light," and who have to "eat the fruit of their doings." I have now a sad story to tell you of one who heeded not reproof. It was Sunday; a widow and her son had just finished their simple dinner; it was a widow's home, so perhaps a poor home, but it was comfortable too; the widow had done her utmost to tenderly nurture her only son; she had tried, too, to teach him the fear of the Lord, but alas! of late he had often caused her heart to ache. The dinner being ended, the lad, for he was grown beyond a mere boy, rose and took his hat; time was when perhaps he had stayed by his mother, but now he was going out; and where do you think he had planned to go that Sunday afternoon? He had planned to go boating.

His mother reproved him, entreated, him, but this willful son would not listen to her voice. At last, as he stood with the door in his hand, his mother rose and said solemnly to him—

“Alexander, if you go this day, I shall never expect to see you again."

Oh! would he not hearken now, would not his heart at least be softened by her sorrow, would not his conscience be touched by her reproof? No, it was all in vain, he may have hesitated a moment, but he was too well accustomed to disregard the word of reproof, and too well used to listen to his own foolish heart, he had too long forgotten the fear of the Lord, and so he went out, and, like the children of Bethel, he shut the door upon himself forever.

Alexander did not think then that it was forever; oh no, the Tempter takes care to hide the real truth from the foolish one who forgets the fear of the Lord; to hide is part of Satan's work as a liar. If, while Alexander was sitting at dinner, somebody had opened the door and said, Make haste, Alexander, eat up your dinner, we want to drown you in the river, do you think Alexander would have gone? Of course not, he would have been glad enough then to have stayed in his home. But this part was hidden from him.

It is only God who knows the end from the beginning; thus those who fear Him, who have respect to His mind in all they do, find that fear to be “a fountain of life to keep from the snares of death."

Alexander walked away from his mother's door, and then his short history was soon told; he found his two companions, he went in the boat, and, just like that boat from which the other young man was kept by the Subject Place, this boat suddenly upset.

Who could tell what Alexander felt then?

No one; for while his two companions swam to shore, he sank, and, as his poor mother had feared, she never saw him again.

This is a dreadful story; but it is true, and it is well for us to remember, that God is the same God now that He was in the days of the children of Bethel, thousands of years ago.

Alexander was an ungodly lad; he disregarded the Lord's day, and disobeyed his mother's wishes; he might have died, as many do, quietly in his bed, but God willed that he should come to his end in this manner as a warning to others. Some sins are open, that is they are such as may plainly be seen by others, going before to judgment; this is very dreadful; dreadful indeed to be an Alexander, of whom such a story can be told. None of you might ever think of going out boating on a Sunday, and I trust indeed that you would not treat your mother, and a widowed mother, too, as Alexander did his; still, if we have not the fear of the Lord, we know not where we may get to. But this solemn verse does not end there, it goes on to say, "Some men they follow after," and unless our sins have been all blotted out by the precious blood of Christ, as Johnny in his dream learned that his were, they must " follow after the sinner to judgment, they will yet be found in those books, where the Lord writes down the story of men's thoughts and actions too.

If we are not kept by the fear of the Lord we are very very badly off. Look at all the things, a few pages back, which the fear of the Lord brings, and then think how badly off is the one who is without all those precious things. There is yet one other precious thing which I must tell you about the fear of the Lord. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom."

I have heard of woods, in former days, in the midst of which some precious thing was kept, but to reach this precious thing, you must go by the right road; there were many paths in the wood, but all would not lead to the precious thing in the midst. How could the right path be found?

At its very beginning there was a little thread, I mean a fine thread, but it was a very long thread, it reached all the way into the middle of the wood, right on to the treasure; it was not a great rope which every one could see at once, it must be felt for carefully, and held carefully, and walked by carefully. Now this guiding thread was like the fear of the Lord. When a mother, a father, or a kind friend teaches the little child, it is like putting his hand upon the thread.

And do all the children hold the thread carefully, and walk by it carefully, and find the treasure? If not, why do they drop this precious thread? Oh, says one, I cannot hold it, it pricks my hand. So the fear of the Lord causes many a prick, when we are not obedient to its guiding; but alas for the one that drops it! who can tell into what part of the tangled forest of folly and woe he will be drifted? I cannot hold it, says another, for I have something else in my hand. My hands are full already.

The hands of a man in Luke 12 were full, and what did God say to him? “Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee." Alexander's hands were full, but soon his drowning hands had to drop all in the deep waters of the river.

But there is the treasure. You may read something of the value of this treasure in Job 28:12-28. How full are the hands of the one who lays hold of the Treasure of Wisdom! for it is none other than Christ, "who of God is made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification and redemption." Whether to fill the heart and the hands, to keep from snares and difficulties by the way, or for that “judgment to come," of which the poor deaf and dumb boy learned—Christ is enough.

"I could not wrap my guilty soul

In any robe of mine;

Since naught can make me fit for God

But righteousness divine.

No other covering will do,

For that most fearful day,

Which all our wretched filthy rags

Will sweep like chaff away.

But if I learn, by precious faith,

What Christ to me is made;

To stand before the throne of God,

I shall not be afraid.

For pure and white, without a spot,

The washed one there is seen,

As much as if he never had

In filthy garments been.

Chapter 6: Ishmael (Or, the River of Mercy)

“MERCY and truth are met together, righteousness and peace, have kissed each other." (Psa. 85:10.)

"Oh satisfy us early with thy mercy, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days." (Psa. 90:14.)

"Drink, little children, freely drink—
These waters are for you;
The springs of life are ever fresh—
The wells of mercy new."

Gen. 21:1-21.

GEN 21:1-21THE story of Ishmael will carry us a great way off from the children of Bethel: we must make a, long journey backwards, not over miles, but over years: we must travel back a thousand years, for Ishmael lived about one thousand years before the children of Bethel.

It is our minds, not our bodies, that can make such journeys as these. What wonderful things are those minds which God has formed for Himself; they can go forward and think about the "pleasures for evermore " which are at God's right hand; those "things which God has prepared for them that love him;" but we ourselves cannot go forward in a moment with our minds, we must go on, step by step, and moment by moment, to the journey's end.

Neither can we go backwards: our minds may often go backwards, and sometimes memory may have a pleasant tale to tell of yesterday, or a few days, or weeks, or years ago; or sometimes it may be a sad tale, and we may wish that we could travel back like memory, and do differently, but it cannot be.

Ishmael must have wished this, for memory had, one day, a sad tale to tell him, as you will hear.

Ishmael was a favored child, for Abraham was his father; his home had been among those tents on the plains of Mamre, where the Lord Himself had appeared to Abraham; Ishmael had formed part of that household of which God Himself had taken note, saying, "I know him [Abraham] that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord."

Abraham's command of his household was no doubt lovingly exercised over Ishmael, for he loved Ishmael, and God had, in answer to Abraham's desire, promised great blessings to this son, though his mother, Hagar, was but an Egyptian bondwoman or slave.

Isaac, the child of promise, Sarah's firstborn and only son, was the heir, not only to Abraham's riches, which were great, but heir of the promises which God had made to this man of faith.

Great joy filled the hearts of Abraham and Sarah when Isaac was born; we may be sure, too, that most of those servants, over whom Abraham was so good a master, would share heartily in welcoming the little son. But the one who might have been expected to be most ready in rejoicing, for the sake of the father who had been so good to him, was full of other thoughts—selfish thoughts, unkind thoughts, perhaps jealous thoughts; and jealousy is a dreadful and sinful feeling; it comes from selfishness. Ishmael, very likely, thought within himself, "I shall not have so many good things now that Isaac, the true heir, is here;" selfishness would put such a thought as this into his heart, and when selfishness is allowed in the heart it fills it up so that there is little room for love; instead of love comes jealousy, and jealousy is the very opposite of love. "Jealousy is cruel as the grave."

I can only guess from Ishmael's behavior what his thoughts may have been, but God could read exactly all that was in his heart.

Abraham, in the midst of his thankfulness and joy over the promised child, little supposed what thoughts filled the heart of his elder son. Sarah, we may be sure, cared tenderly for her baby, and God we know, in a special way, would protect this heir of blessing. Ishmael's evil thoughts hurt no one but himself; and Isaac grew on, and the day of his weaning, which, in ancient times and in those eastern countries, was a grand day for grand children, arrived.

On this day Abraham made a great feast; every tent would be filled with rejoicing, abundance of food would be provided for all, and no hard work would be done. Ishmael had, no doubt, his full share of all the good things, for in Abraham's heart there was surely love enough for two sons, and he would not cease to care for Ishmael because God had given him Isaac.

Abraham must have been very busy that day, for all the servants, on such an occasion, would wish to speak a word to the beloved master, and would desire a word from him in return; but Sarah, who probably was more quietly engaged with the little son, on whose account all this feasting was going on, had time to observe the conduct of Ishmael.

Ishmael also, like every naughty boy, would take care to keep out of sight of his good father, but perhaps he was not so mindful of what Sarah might see or say; at any rate, it so happened that Sarah saw the son of Hagar mocking.

We are not told what he was mocking at; perhaps it was at the little weaned child, who was, I dare say, in his eyes, a long way behind himself in strength, in stature, and in capacity, as in years, for Ishmael was at this time more than thirteen years of age. Perhaps he mocked at, or despised, the joy of the aged father and mother. Oh, how like was Ishmael then to the children of Bethel, one thousand years later! Time, even thousands of years, cannot change the heart of man; it was evil in the days of Cain; it is the same heart, evil, in the days of Ishmael; evil in the days of Joash; evil to-day; so “he that trusteth in his own heart," God has said, "is a fool." Ishmael was like a great blot upon the scene of gladness among the tents of Abraham. When Abraham sat down with Sarah, at the end of the day, to speak of all that had taken place, and to give thanks, with her, for the goodness and faithfulness of God towards them, the tale to be told of Ishmael came like a great shadow over the brightness.

Oh, how sad for a son to be a blot and a shadow in the home!

God was not going to allow a shadow from the unruly heart of Ishmael to darken the brightness and mar the peace of the home to which He had sent the child of promise. Sarah asked that Ishmael, with his mother Hagar, might be sent away from the pleasant tents.

The thing was very grievous in Abraham's sight, because of his son.

How much love is in the heart of a father even for an unruly son; and God, who knows all about children, has provided that it should be so. What would have become of any of us, if we had not found a parent's love ready to forgive again and again.

I am sure that the night which followed the day of gladness, was a sorrowful one to Abraham: God Himself spoke to him, and comforted him concerning Ishmael, and early in the morning Abraham got up.

Now was to begin Ishmael's time of sorrow.

Perhaps he had little guessed, when he had lain down in his comfortable tent the night before, that it was for the last time. Hagar was to be sent away with her child, and I fear she deserved to share his punishment. I do not think she had taught him to honor Abraham and Sarah as she should have done, for the same rude spirit which had made Ishmael mock had, a few years before, been seen in Hagar. Still, whatever they deserved, it must have been painful to Abraham to send them away; he did what he could to provide them for their journey, for he gave them bread and also a bottle of water. We read, "Abraham rose up early in the morning and took bread and a bottle of water and gave it unto Hagar, putting it on her shoulder."

In this country we generally carry small burdens in our hands, and if we want to sling or hang such a thing as a basket or bag we hang it on the arm; but in eastern countries, small burdens are usually carried on, or slung over, the shoulder; and the bottle given by Abraham to Hagar was like a bag made of skin, perhaps the skin of a calf or goat, and filled with the precious water.

Here we have water, generally, in such abundance that we are little able to conceive how precious it was in the heat of those eastern lands; it was also scarce, for miles of wild and barren country often lay between one river and another, and unless a well were found in the way, what was to become of the poor traveler if, like Hagar and Ishmael, he went on foot instead of being carried by the useful camel or swift dromedary over the scorching plain that lay between the rivers of refreshment?

But Hagar and Ishmael had to go: it must have been sad to see the child, who had long been tenderly nurtured in all the abundance of Abraham's tents, thus going forth to wander in the wilderness of Beersheba; none but his poor mother with him, possessing nothing but the bread and the bottle of water. It was early morning when they started, and the air no doubt was cool and pleasant, and walking over the first few miles, after the night's rest, may have been easy work: but while Hagar and Ishmael journeyed, another mighty traveler was going his way also.

Do you know what traveler I mean?

It is the sun—" Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race. His going forth is from the end of heaven, and his circuit unto the ends of it; and there is nothing hid from the heat thereof."

The sun, perhaps, has only appeared to you as a pleasant friend: on a winter's day, however sharp the frost that has clothed every blade of grass and every bare twig with cold, white, crusty winter coats, if the sun shine out, how lovely all immediately becomes! and who that can run and jump minds the cold frost, when his friend, the sun, is at hand to share it with him? In summer time, too, the sun is welcome; what delight it is to find him already before you, beginning his long bright journey across an unclouded sky; and as he rises higher, and sends down hotter beams than are quite agreeable, how glad we are to sit beneath the shade of a tree where, sheltered by the cool, fragrant leaves, the heat he has spread only reaches us pleasantly! But very differently appears the sun to the one who may be so unhappy as to be exposed to his fierce, beams in a hot, barren place, such a place as the wilderness, of Beersheba. Then the sun is a terrible enemy.

The sun may have risen hot and fierce over the tents of Abraham, but he and his household could retreat within, and find shelter from the burning rays. Hagar and Ishmael had no place of retreat, they must go on; Ishmael must have felt now what it was to be homeless. Every moment, as the sun rose higher, his beams would be fiercer; the ground itself would be filled with heat, and would scorch the weary feet of the travelers; the rocks which often stud such wildernesses would no longer afford a moment's shelter; the hot air, no doubt, parched their mouths, and they drank again and again of the water from the bottle; no cooling fruits could be plucked in that wilderness; nothing was above them, nothing below their feet, nothing around but heat, cruel, beating, thirsty heat, and at last their one refreshment was gone—"the water was spent in the bottle."

Yes, the water was spent, but the heat was not spent; it still poured down its fury upon the fainting head of young Ishmael; his steps grew slower, for the terrible thirst, which there was nothing to quench, would dry up all his strength until at last, thankful no doubt for even its tiny shade, his mother cast him under one of the shrubs.

That was all she could do, poor helpless mother; she could not give him the one thing he needed—a drop of water; she could not bear to see him suffer, so she went on, while he lay at death's very door beneath the wilderness shrub.

Ah! he was now as weak as the weaned child whom he had yesterday mocked, but whom to-day he must have sorely envied, in the plenty and shelter of that home which he had so lightly cast from him. Hagar "went, and sat her down over against him a good way off, as it were a bowshot, for she said, Let me not see the death of the child; and she sat over against him and lift up her voice and wept."

But all the weeping could do Ishmael no good; he still lay there moaning beneath the shrub. Sorrow cannot save us, nor deliver us out of the consequences of sin, but what sorrow cannot do mercy does; we have seen Ishmael's sin, then Ishmael's sorrow, now we have the beginning of the sweet tale of mercy. And what does this tale begin with I the other parts began with Ishmael; it was Ishmael's sin, it was Ishmael's sorrow, but mercy begins with God. God heard the voice of the lad.

We learn God's all-hearing ear. "He that planted the ear shall He not hear." He who heard the faint voice of the dying child had also heard the voice of the unruly lad, when in all the pride of yesterday's strength, and all the darkness of yesterday's sin, he had mocked one who, though a weak little weaned child, was yet the heir of the promises made by the God of glory to Abraham, and a vessel of blessing to all people of the earth. We learn God's ear: but when we learn God's heart we learn mercy, for “He delighteth in mercy."

God's all-hearing ear heard the feeble voice of the child beneath the shrub, and immediately God's heart began to act. The angel of God called to Hagar out of heaven.

Was it to remind Hagar of her former sin, and of how all the misery which filled her heart might be traced back to herself? Was it to tell Hagar that the destitution of her son was the righteous reward for his pride and ingratitude of yesterday?

No; this was true, but it would not have been mercy, and mercy was to reach the sorrowing mother and the fainting son. What words of tender pity the angel of God spoke! “What aileth thee, Hagar? fear not; for God hath heard the voice of the lad where he is; arise, lift up the lad, and hold him in thine hand; for I will make him a great nation." Then God opened her eyes: first He had opened her ears; she had heard the message of mercy; then He opened her eyes, and she saw the provision of mercy, “She saw a well of water." Yes; in the midst of that scorching wilderness, a well of water. She lost no time: her bottle was empty, and how gladly she must have filled it and carried it to the needy lad; how gladly he, too, must have opened his parched lips to the welcome draft; how, again and again, he would refresh himself with the life-giving water! Thirst was forgotten, death was driven away; fainting, weariness, crying, all was swallowed up in the water of mercy. “God was with the lad, and he grew, and dwelt in the wilderness and became an archer."

To this day, the wandering son of Abraham is not for gotten: twice to Abraham and twice to Hagar God had promised to make of Ishmael a great nation, and God never forgets His promises.

Ishmael's character was not what we should think suitable to a receiver of mercy; he was “a wild man, his hand against every man, and every man's hand against him;" one who fought for himself, who gained possessions and power for himself; and, to this day, the same fierce, wild, and grasping habits are to be seen in the Bedouins or wandering Arabs of the desert, who are descendants of Ishmael. It is a law among them neither to sow, to plant, nor to build houses: they need not to sow or plant, for they feed upon the fruit of other men's labors; they need not to build, for it suits them best to dwell in lonely caverns, from which they can rush out upon the unprotected; they are desert savages, who live by plundering those travelers who may be unfortunate enough to come within their range. No mercy do these wandering outlaws show; they are more like descendants of the cruel hyena, than like sons of the lad who once drank from that well in the desert.

Ishmael may have made many another weary journey, and passed many another thirsty, needy hour, between the day of his first wandering in the desert of Beersheba, and the time when, a skilled archer, dwelling in the wilderness of Paran with his Egyptian wife, he became, according to the promise of God for Abraham's sake, the father of twelve princes, and the founder of a great nation.

Ishmael drank of that water and thirsted again. Mercy came to the deliverance of Ishmael, and he took of it and went on his way.

Are there any like Ishmael?

Those who drink of the water which Jesus gives shall never thirst: it is the Water of Life.

Mercy is as mindful now of human needs as in the day of Ishmael. This world would be barren and dreadful indeed but for mercy: mercy is continually around your path; every good thing you ever enjoy is a mercy sent to you from God, for Christ's sake. Besides the every day mercies, are there not many who can tell of special mercy that met them in the rough way? the heat, the need, and the barrenness of life, troubles of all sorts, troubles that made the heart faint, and that brought forth the bitter cry. And mercy heard that cry, as it heard the voice of Ishmael, and relief came; the need was met, the supply was sent, the strength was restored, the heart was comforted.

But is that all that mercy can do? Does the mercy of God content itself with giving a few drops by the way, and leaving the one who drinks of it to thirst again?

Oh, no! this is not the heart of God: the everlasting God gives everlasting blessing. The mercy of God is like a vast river: so deep, it can cover all sins—"Their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more:" so wide, it reaches out to all sinners—"Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely;" so long, it flows on into eternity—"His mercy endureth forever."

The river of mercy does not flow only to give you a refreshing draft, and leave you to travel on along the stream of time; the stream of time leads to the dark, deep river of death, and there is, as you know, a great gulf, beyond that river of death—"After death the judgment;" but the river of mercy waits to carry the traveler — oh, how swiftly and how surely! — to God's bright eternity of gladness.

And who can be carried by this river? Is it the strong? If you stand by a river, and throw in there a strong iron bar, will it make a swift journey by its great strength? No, it will sink in the earth below the water. It is not the strong who will make a way through mercy's tide.

Is it the worthy? Throw a bag of silver or gold now into the river; will the waters prize its worth and carry it along? No, it will sink and lie buried with the iron bar. The passengers on that river are not the strong or the worthy.

But cast in a dry, barren stick, or a worthless straw, and how quickly it is carried beyond your reach! Yes, the passengers on Mercy's River are the weak and the worthless.

Oh, who would be the money bag or the strong bar, sunk helpless and motionless in the bed of the river—cold, dark, and lifeless! Would you not rather be the little, worthless straw, carried on and on by waters of mercy to the home of glory? There is no way to that bright and blessed place, His presence, where there is fullness of joy, but by the River of Mercy.

“Nothing but mercy 'll do for me,
Nothing but mercy full and free
Of sinners chief, what but the blood
Could calm my soul before my God?
Save by the blood He could not bless,
So pure, so great, His holiness;
But God in mercy gave the Lamb,
And by His blood absolved I am."

The waters of mercy are fresh to-day, but the river has been flowing through this needy earth for thousands of years.

“Soon as the reign of sin began,
The light of mercy dawned on man!
When God announced the blessed news—
The woman's seed thy head shall bruise."

Ah! the woman's Seed, Jesus the Savior, has been the channel of mercy to poor sinners. The source of the River is the very heart of God. Mercy is that, in the heart of God which made Him look down with pity upon all the sorrow and dreadful suffering, the confusion and ruin that sin had brought upon this earth which once He had seen to be “very good." God saw all the misery and waited four thousand years, while He taught man his need of a Savior, and then He gave the Seed of the woman, Christ; “The Father sent the Son to be the Savior of the world."

Perhaps you have seen a river flowing on until it comes to a dam, or great barrier, stretched from one bank to the other, all across. Oh, how the waters rise, and swell, and sway as they beat against this dam; but they cannot flow by. So with mercy: mercy dwelt ever in the heart of God, but there was a barrier to its outflow; this was righteousness. Mercy in God pitied the ruined and sorrowful and dying sinners who filled the whole world. Wonderful mercy it was; divine mercy that could look down thus in pity upon those who had, through their own self-will and folly, brought all the sorrow on themselves; all, like thousands and thousands of Ishmaels, suffering from the consequences of their own sin, for all are sinners.

"The Lord looked down from heaven upon the children of men to see if there were any that did understand and seek God: they are all gone aside, they are altogether become filthy; there is none that doeth good, no, not one."

No man is righteous: "There is none righteous, no, not one." But God is righteous, and He could not, though He pitied the sinner, take him into heaven in his sinful state, for God is holy. He cannot bear sin, He hates iniquity. Neither could God pass over all the sins which we had committed, for He is righteous, and righteousness must execute the judgment which it had pronounced against sin. So Jesus came, the Son of God, yet the Savior of the world.

“Wondrous was God's love in giving
Jesus for our sins to die;
Wondrous was His grace in leaving,
For our sakes, the heaven on high."

Jesus had done no sins; He was perfectly spotless- "A Lamb without blemish and without spot." In Jesus sin was not; yet, upon the cross, He bore all the wrath of God against sin, all the punishment due for sin: there is now no punishment awaiting those who believe in Jesus. “Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other." The precious blood of Christ washes away from the believing one every spot which sin has made. The holiness of God, the righteousness of God, the love of God, the mercy of God, all are magnified in receiving the sinner, for Christ's sake, whether it be a man, a woman, or a child, the moment they hear of Jesus the Savior, and put their trust in Him. Like the worthless little straw, they are carried along by the River of Mercy.

The river of God's grace,

Through righteousness supplied,

Is flowing o'er the barren place,

Where Jesus died."

There is no barrier now. Righteousness and holiness, power and justice, all help on the flow of the river; it has passed over all its banks, it has become a flood. From one end to the other of the wide, sin-stained desert of this world, the flood of mercy spreads; the black man, the white man, the poor man, the rich man, the ignorant man, the little child, or the sinner of a hundred years, all need, and all may share in this river of mercy. Oh, will any be content with a few drops when such a swift, mighty flood waits, at their very feet, to carry them on to glory! Will any let the river flow by? Of what use will it have been to have tasted of the mercy of God at some time of earthly need, as did Ishmael, if, after all, you find yourself shut out from the God of mercy forever and ever!

And will any be thus shut out? Yes.

Not because their sins were many: for "the blood of Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin." Not because they had nothing to recommend them: for the name of Jesus is an all-powerful claim. Of Him it was said, “This man receiveth sinners," and He has said, "Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out" Why, then, will any be shut out? Because they come TOO LATE! There are no bounds to the river of mercy, but there is a close to the day of mercy. “Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation."

But "when once the Master of the house is risen up and hath shut to the door, and ye begin to stand without and to knock at the door, saying, Lord, Lord, open unto us, and he shall answer and say unto you, I know you not whence ye are, then shall ye begin to say, We have eaten and drunk in thy presence, and thou hast taught in our streets; but he shall say, I tell you I know you not whence ye are, depart from me all ye workers of iniquity, there shall be weeping, and gnashing of teeth."

And can any thus warned let the day of mercy all go by?

Who could believe such a thing, but alas! it is true. What can make any men, women, or children thus neglect and refuse the precious offer of mercy? Often little things: one is a love of pleasure; children are in danger of being caught in this snare; perhaps they forget that the river of mercy is the way to the river of God's pleasures, and so they lose the precious time, the accepted time, while they content themselves with the withering flowers of earth.

We read in the history of Greece of a foolish man who, caught in the snare of pleasure, let the moment of an earthly deliverance pass by; his name was Archias; he was ruler in a Grecian state; he was a selfish man, and just as the selfish cannot love, so are they little loved.

Archias was hated by those over whom he ruled, and they wickedly made a plan to destroy him. Archias knew not, as day after day passed by, that it was bringing him nearer and nearer to the day of a terrible ending. But a warning was sent to him: one friend, notwithstanding his folly and selfishness, felt pity for him, and he knew of the wicked plan, he knew that the last day was come, and he sent a messenger riding in great haste to Archias, carrying with him a letter describing all that had been planned and showing a way of escape. The messenger on arriving found that Archias was holding a great feast; but as he said that he had come from Athens with a letter of great importance, he was at once admitted to the presence of the ruler.

“My lord," said he, “the person who sends this letter earnestly begs that you will read it at once, as it speaks of something very serious."

Archias was full of pleasure; he did not wish to read the letter, he never guessed his danger, he thought only of enjoyment. “Serious things to-morrow," he cried laughing; he dismissed the messenger, he cast aside the letter, and he continued the feast; but to-morrow never came to Archias, the mercy shown to him was wasted upon him, for the day of its use was past. That same night, those who had planned together rushed forward, in the very midst of the feast, and killed him; he had put off till too late.

Ah! "too late" is a dreadful word; it is the word of those who "stand without and knock."

Another hindrance is the thought of getting to glory by a way of our own imagining: a way of our own will never bring us to God, yet many love a way of their own better than the way of mercy, and they love to lead or drive others along such ways.

A poor Indian once longed to know how his sins could be atoned for. He went to one of his priests; this priest pretended to teach the way to happiness, but alas! it was a way of his own. He did not tell the poor Indian of Jesus, the One who "put away sin by the sacrifice of himself;" he taught the poor sinner that it must be his own suffering to put away his sins, and a dreadful suffering was the way he taught. He knew not the way of peace, he knew not the way of mercy; he said to the poor Indian, “Take off your sandals," which are the shoes worn in India, and are like soles of shoes only, "and drive iron spikes into them, and then, upon these dreadful spiked shoes, you must walk four hundred and eighty miles."

Oh, what a cruel invention! how cruel is the dark heart of man! But the heart of God pitied the poor Indian, and the flood of mercy was to meet him even in that dark, distant land. He had not gone very far on his dreadful journey, when pain and weariness obliged him to rest under a tree: God saw the suffering Indian's bleeding feet, and his poor, anxious, sin-burdened heart, and He sent the message of mercy to the very place where he sat. A missionary came to preach under that tree, and his text was this; “The blood of Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin." God sent the message, and opened the understanding of the ignorant heathen: while the missionary was yet preaching the poor man rose, exclaiming, “This is what I want; this is what I want;" and soon, taking the dreadful sandals from his feet, he threw them away.

You have heard of Jesus; many times you have read or heard that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin; have you replied, like the poor Indian, This is what I want I Have you owned to God that you are a poor, guilty, perishing sinner, and that only His way will do for you? Just as the perishing Ishmael cried from under the wilderness shrub, and God heard the voice of the lad where he was, so God will hear you, wherever or whoever you are, or whatever you have done. And have you done what Ishmael perhaps did not? Have you thanked God for His provision of mercy? Have you thanked the Lord Jesus who died for you? "Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree." “By whose stripes ye were healed." Oh, how blessed thus to cast ourselves, as little worthless straws, into such a strong deep river of mercy!

In this country, none may be taught such dreadful ways as the spiked sandals; but whether we try our own prayers, our own tears, or our own good doings, or whether we live in to-day's pleasure, all are alike dreadful in this,, that they will never carry us to glory, but will leave us to drift along the river of time into the gulf of death.

It will make but little difference in eternity whether a, sinner has walked on spiked sandals, or sailed in pleasure, boats to that dreadful place called in Rev. 20:15, the lake of fire.

God is rich in mercy; He needs not the help of man's tears to swell the flood. All who find peace and acceptance in His presence say alike; “not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us."

On rolls mercy's tide; as full and as strong as on the first day of the barrier's removal: in England, in Ireland, in Scotland, in the vast continent of America, how freely have its waters poured, and how freely still they flow!

In lands of popery, in dark African forests, in sultry Indian plains, in distant Australian bush, in lonely Ocean homes, everywhere, the river has reached. It has reached you. Is it carrying you?

Let me tell you, before I close, how the river ran into a dark house, and how it swelled there until, one after another, it carried all the family. Oh, how ready the river is to flow into all homes, and to gladden all hearts! Sad is the lot of poor, dark idolaters who, surrounded by walls of man's inventing, and sunk in the darkness of man's superstition, see not the river of mercy; but how far sadder, in these favored lands, where light and life and love shine on every hand, must be the lot of those who neglect such mercy!

Like Ishmael, who mocked the heir in his weakness, and was sent forever from his presence, those who hear of the Savior, and receive Him not, will be found to have added to all their sins this one awful sin; they will be found guilty of despising the Christ of God, "Whom he hath appointed heir of all things;" and in the day of earth's rejoicing, when Christ comes to take all, He will be seen as the Judge of those who dared once to despise Jesus, the Man of grace and the Savior of the world. Oh, vainly then will those who have neglected grace long for one drop from the river of mercy to cool their tongues. No cry then will bring, as did Ishmael's dying voice, a drink from a well in the desert. There are no wells in the dark, dark desert of the sinner's eternity. And what do I mean by a sinner? Do I mean one whom every one can point at as wicked? The hardened evil-doer, the one whom all would shrink from? No; the sinner may have a pleasing outward appearance. By the sinner, I mean simply the one who remains in his sins; who has not come to Jesus, and had his sins forgiven, and their-stain washed away. They may be the sins of less than ten years, but they are enough to shut out from heaven. Each may know, even a child, whether of them it could be said, “I write unto you, children, because your sins are forgiven you for his name's sake."

“Jesus can all our sins forgive,
And wash away their stain;
And fit our souls with Him to live,
And in His kingdom reign.

To Him let little children come,
For He has said they may;
His bosom then shall be their home,
Their tears He'll wipe away."

It was by a child, a little girl, that the door of the home into which the river of mercy ran, was first opened to the precious waters. The little girl's name was Jane, and her home was indeed a dark one. I do not mean by this that it was a home in those wonderful ice regions where, for three months together, the sun is absent, and the total darkness of night continues for ninety days at a stretch. No; the sun shone into Jane's home as freely as it does into yours; the darkness in which Jane and her parents, her brothers and sisters lived, was that far worse darkness spoken of in the Epistle of John; the darkness of those who know not Jesus, the light of life. Jane and her parents did not dwell among the heathen; the river of mercy was flowing near them; but they had never heeded it, they did not read the word of God, they did not pray, they did not go where they could hear the way of salvation. In some respects the home was a comfortable one, for these people were not among the very poor in earthly goods, but oh how poor they all were since they had not Christ! for "He that hath the Son hath life, and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life."

What was there, in such poverty and darkness, to prevent this whole family-from sinking down into everlasting darkness?

Nothing but mercy!

God, who is rich in mercy, began to touch the heart of little Jane. Jane began to think that her behavior was not all that it ought to be; this was the light coming in; when people are well satisfied with their own ways and their own hearts it is because they are in darkness. The walls of cellars sometimes appear, to those in them, to be covered with beautiful, shining diamonds: has any one spent thousands of pounds in studding those lonely, dingy walls with precious stones? Oh no; open the door, let in a little light, bring a few lanterns, and what do you see? Not diamonds! What looked like diamonds is really nothing precious, but a loathsome mixture of damp and dirt, and masses of fungi, those horrible poisonous growths which find their birth and nourishment where death and darkness reign. These cellars are a picture of the heart of man: nothing belongs to the natural heart that will be found precious in the light of the presence of God. Jane tried to do better, but soon she found not only that her ways were bad, but that she was full of bad feelings-foolishness, anger, self will, disobedience, and deceit.

Then poor Jane thought, “I have no one to teach me to do right; this is why I am so bad."

The wish to be taught was a right one; but Jane made a mistake in supposing that teaching could set her bad heart right, or make her ways good. The first use of teaching is like the light in the cellar, it shows us that in us is no good thing, then the light shows the Savior of the lost. But God had put the wish to learn of better things into her heart; and after the wish, He opened the way. Jane heard that about a mile from her home there was a school, where, on Sundays, children might come and be taught the scriptures.

Jane's heart said at once, like the poor tortured Indian, “This is what I want." She asked her parents to allow her to go to this school on Sundays; but they were very angry at her request. Alas! they were some of those who "loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil." They were not angry when their child wasted all the bright hours of the Lord's day in idleness, but they were angry when she wished to spend those hours in learning of Him. Poor Jane knew not what to do: she was not rude to her parents, as once she would have been if denied a wish, but she was very sad, for now she feared there was no hope of learning to be better; she went out, and as she walked along the road, though it was a pleasant summer's evening, she could only cry.

But somebody else was walking along that road; somebody who was sent of God to meet the sorrowing child: but he did not know it; he was surprised to meet a little weeping girl. He asked the cause of her tears, and he spoke so kindly that, though he was a stranger, Jane soon told him of the wish that was in her heart, and of her parents' anger.

“I teach in that school," said the stranger; “shall I go home with you, and ask your parents again to allow you to attend?"

Jane was half afraid, for these dark parents were not kind or forgiving; yet the longing for light, which God Himself had put into her heart, could not be stilled, so she stilled the fear and said, "Yes."

The parents were indeed very angry when they heard the stranger's request: the father at once gave his poor child a hard blow, but after the visitor had talked kindly and seriously with them for two hours, they very ungraciously gave consent, and the next Sunday, how happy was Jane when she found herself seated among the learners!

Oh, how eagerly she listened! and soon she learned a wonderful lesson; she learned that sin was the cause of her bad feelings, and that the ways she was displeased with were sins, and were far more displeasing to the Holy God than to herself, though to her they soon felt like a great burden. When Jane went home the first Sunday, she prayed that God would give her a heart to fear and to obey her parents. A few weeks passed on, and soon she had a happy tale to tell: “My sins," she said, " were like a great weight, but now they are gone, for the Savior has found me, the Savior who loves me, who says-Seek me early, Seek me now."

When Jane had tasted the precious love of God for herself, she longed that all in her home should taste it too, and she prayed earnestly for her father, her mother, her brothers and sisters. They all, no doubt, saw a difference in Jane's behavior; perhaps, like her, they began to be not quite pleased with themselves and their ways; but when the heart has been long used to sin, how hard it grows; it grows like a rock, and great blows are sometimes needed to break it.

A blow came upon the father: it was God's hand, in answer to the little girl's prayers, beginning to break the father's hard heart. He became very ill; every day he grew worse; he felt very unhappy.

Whom did he turn to?

Not to his poor dark wife, or his elder daughter, nor to his sons, nor to the neighbors with whom he had spent many an idle hour in days of pleasure; but, in this day of sickness and sorrow, he turned to his little girl, whose prayer God had heard, and whose heart had been learning, day by day, to love and obey the hard, ignorant parents. “Jane," he said, one day when he had sent for her to his room, "I am very ill. Do you think I shall get well?"

Little Jane could not keep back her tears at this question, so gently asked by her stern, strong father. "I hope so," she said, “oh, I do hope so;" then she tried to dry her tears and speak more calmly. “But if it is God's will, dear father, that you should soon die, where will your soul be?"

The father knew not what to say: where indeed, where would his poor, sinful soul be if he were to die?

He looked at his child in silence,

“Shall I call some one to pray for you, dear father?" she said.

“Oh! my child," replied the humbled man, "will you pray for me? will you pray for your poor, wicked father?"

“Dear father," said Jane, "I have often prayed for you; but I will pray again now."

Then little Jane knelt, beside the bed; she knew God as her Father, and she could tell Him simply all that was in her heart; the poor man was melted, as he followed the prayer of his child; God stirred up his heart, and he began to pray too. Soon he too found mercy.

The peace and quietness of his heart perhaps helped his body, for he began to mend; and, after a few weeks, he was able once more to go out.

And where do you think he first went? He took his little girl's hand, and went with her to tell his kind visitor how sorry he was for having received him so rudely, and to thank him for teaching little Jane, who had, in the goodness of God, been made, in her turn, a messenger of mercy to himself. After this the home was no longer a dark one; the mother, the brothers and sister, one after another, were brought to know Jesus the Savior, and to rejoice as they found themselves carried along on the bright waters of the River of Mercy.

“For thou, Lord, art good and ready to forgive, and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee."

"I have trusted in thy mercy: my heart shall rejoice in thy salvation."

"For thy mercy is great above the heavens, and thy truth unto the clouds."

See that mother with her child,

Toiling through the desert wild:

Why is he so lonely there?

Why without a father's care?

Ah! young Ishmael once had

Everything to make him glad;

But he mock'd the promised heir,

And with him he cannot share.

He must tread his weary way,

Fainting 'neath the rising day;

Till at length, with bitter cry,

Cast beneath a shrub to die.

Shall his cry go forth in vain?

Hagar, full of grief and pain,

Leaves him, with despairing tears,

For to see his death she fears.

But there is the God above—

God of Light and God of Love:

He has seen his evil ways,

All his sin of former days.

Yet has heard his anguish-cry,

Mark'd his need with pitying eye:

Mercy's tide shall freely flow;

Abraham's God shall Ishmael know,

Abraham's God is still the same;

Grace and truth by Jesus came.

Mercy's river floods the waste;

All who come shall mercy taste.

Though the tide of sin abound,

Mercy still beyond is found:

Since the day of grace arose,

Mercy free and boundless flows.

All the dreary desert way

Cannot darken mercy's day;

But its close, will come at last,

And its hours are fleeting fast.

Then, in vain all bitter cries;

They who Christ in grace despise

Shall behold, with deep despair,

Christ in judgment, as the Heir.

Sad God's mercy to reject,

Such salvation to "neglect;"

And have naught but deep despair,

Though a Savior be the Heir.

Hearken, then, to wisdom's cry:

Let not mercy's day go by;

But with Christ in glory share,

Once, the Savior; now, the Heir.

Chapter 7: Timothy (Or, a Christian Home)

“MY people shall dwell in peaceable habitations and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting places." (Isa. 32:18)

"Continue thou in the things which thou hast learned." (2 Tim. 3:14)

“For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required." (Luke 12:48)

“Happy the home, where Jesu's name,

Is sweet to every ear:

Where children early lisp His fame,

And parents hold Him dear.

Happy the home, where prayer is heard,

Where hearts are fill'd with praise;

Where parents love the sacred word,

And grace rules all their ways."

Mrs. W—.

WHEN the River of Mercy flows through the home, what a happy home it is; what sweet fruits and flowers may be looked for! Such a home was Timothy's; many, many Christian homes are now to be found on every hand, but Timothy's was one of the first. "Christian" was a name then of but a few years old. “The disciples were called Christians first in Antioch," and about the, time of Timothy's birth.

Already, for nearly two thousand years, God had had a people for Himself upon earth; a people whom He knew, whom He spoke with, whom He preserved in trouble and weakness; a people who knew Him as Jehovah Elohim, the Lord God; a people who trusted in Him, who walked by faith, and who died in faith, not having received the promises. The promises were made to Abraham and to his Seed forever; that Seed was Christ. The descendants of Abraham were then the people of God; the River of Mercy did not flow, as now, on every side; it was not, as now, a flood running over all its banks; it flowed in its course, and that course was the nation of Israel.

Isaac was heir to the promises made to Abraham. In some families riches are possessed; they may be diamonds, or portraits, or valuable books, or gold and silver plate; these are, when the possessor dies, handed down to his heir; that heir, in his turn, dies and leaves the riches to another heir, "For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out." So with the promises given to Abraham; he died, and they were handed down to Isaac. Isaac could see nothing, but he kept the promises in faith; he was persuaded of them, and embraced them; then he died and handed them down to Jacob, who was called Israel; thus the promises moved on and on through Jacob's twelve sons, through the many thousands of Israel, but with none of these could the promises rest; these all died.

“But when the fullness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son." And now the promises did rest; they do not pass from Christ to any other. “All the promises of God in him, are yea, and in him amen." Now, Christians get more than promises; it is present blessing. Those who were born of Abraham got the promises. Those who are born of God now get present and eternal blessing. We now are not parts of a nation to which God has promised, and on which He will bestow wonderful blessings; those who are now of faith are children of God. “Ye are all children of God by faith in Christ Jesus." It is not the people or nation of God; it is the family of God.

In this family all bear the name of Christians, not Israelites. Christians form the family of God and the church of God. Now God is revealed in Christ. Now all who believe know God, not only as Jehovah Elohim, but as Father. “When the fullness of time was come God sent forth His Son." “To as many as received him, to them gave he the right to be the children of God, even to them that believe on his name." “Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us that we should be called the children of God." I have told you all this to help you to understand, a little, the blessings and wonders of this new name—Christian. Syrian means of Syria; Egyptian means of Egypt; Indian means of India; and Christian means of Christ. Christ is the foundation of the Christian home; Christ is the Master of the Christian home; Christ is the Example for the Christian home; and Christ is the Light, the Strength, the Safety, and the Joy of the Christian home. No wonder then that it should be a happy place. No wonder that sweet fruits should be found there, the fruit of the Spirit. Love, Joy, Peace, Longsuffering, Gentleness, Goodness, Faith, Meekness, Temperance.

Two treasures are also to be found in every Christian home. They were in Timothy's home. One treasure is external, that is, it is an outward treasure, which all who come into the home can see; the other is an inward treasure. The outward treasure is the word of God: the more this treasure is prized and studied, the more does fruit abound in the home; the more do peace and contentment reign there. The home may be a rich one; many useful and pleasant things may be found in and around it, but none of them all would make up for the loss of this treasure.

David, the man after God's own heart, said, "Thy word is better unto me than thousands of gold and silver," and this is still the language of the Christian, the child of God; and again David said, "I have esteemed the words of thy mouth more than my necessary food." The home may be a poor one; little furniture in it, no store of silver or gold, little there beyond the necessary food, but how precious a treasure is the Bible to the poor one of this world who is “rich in faith"!

Timothy's grandmother Lois, and his mother Eunice, must have prized this treasure, for, “from a child" Timothy had “known the holy scriptures." What a sweet sight is to be seen in the christian home when the child stands beside the mother or the grandmother to learn or to repeat a portion of the holy scriptures! It may be a little child, and its baby lips can scarcely utter distinctly the three words, "God is love," but still those three words, so lisped, are part of the treasure which is "able" to make the little one "wise unto salvation."

The light of the sun shines morning by morning into every home: yesterday's light would not do for to-day. So, morning by morning, the light of God's word must shine into the Christian home. In the winter morning the sun's light may shine but dimly, a thick fog may cloud his rays, but the light of God's word shines unchangingly through summer's light and winter's cloud; the father and mother sit down, the children sit around, perhaps the youngest on its mother's knee; perhaps, as in Timothy's home, the grandmother too is there to complete the picture. What a sweet sacred hour it is. The toils of the day, it may be hard work, or it may be study, are before them, but they read of the time "when toil shall all be o'er;" the difficulties of the day are before them, but they read of the peace which passeth all understanding; the sorrows of the day are before them, but they read of the time when "God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away." And in the dusk of the winter afternoon, when the mother or grandmother finds time to spare, or in the evening when lessons and work are ended, what a brightness does the treasure lend to the home! Who shall be dull, when he follows the ancient people of God through all their wilderness journeyings, on into the land flowing with milk and honey? Who shall be fearful, when he hears how the stripling David slew the giant, or how the whole Assyrian army was put to flight by God? Who shall dread want, when he reads how, in the barren desert, man did eat angels' food? or how, in the day of famine, Elijah was fed by birds of prey? or how, later on towards the dawning of the christian day, Christ fed the multitudes? Timothy may have heard all these stories from the lips of Lois or Eunice, and some, as he grew older, he could read for himself. A traveler once came upon a scene of this kind, the evening reading in a christian home in the distant land of Syria; for, as I told you, the people of God do not now belong to one nation, but are taken from among all nations over the whole face of the earth; and whether the home be like Timothy's in Derbe, a city of Asia Minor, or wherever yours may be, or like this one in Syria, the treasure in every home is alike the word of God. The reading in this family began directly after the evening meal, lest the little ones should be sleepy; and the Bible read was in Arabic, as that was the language best understood by the servants. All sat round a long table; then the father, the mother, and each, down to the smallest child and the old Arab servant, in his turban and full Turkish trousers, read in turn one verse of the precious Book. If you had been there you would have been much puzzled to read your verse from an Arabic Bible, though it is so easy and pleasant to you to read, in your turn when, like the Syrian family, you sit among your own dear people at home.

When first God began to give His word to His people, He told what use was to be made of it. We read in Deut. 6:6-9: "And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart: And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and thou shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes. And thou shalt write them upon the posts of thy house, and on thy gates," and again, in Deut. 11:18, 19, 20, we get almost the same words.

God has not since told any different way of using His word. God does not say, Put my Book into better covers than any other, and lay it in a place by itself; He does not say, Put my Book on a high shelf where the children cannot reach it. God does see how we treat His Book, even outwardly, and children do well to remember this; it is a very shocking sight to see a Bible with its covers scratched and broken, and its leaves carelessly turned down or torn or blotted; still, outward respect is not all that is due to the word of God.

Supposing a kind and learned visitor, a friend of kings and princes, was sent to your house, you would know that he deserved respect. Supposing you showed him into your best room, and then went away and left him there alone, all the time, would this be respect? would he or the one who had sent him be pleased? No; the great messenger would say, I was sent to you with messages of goodness and wisdom; my time here has been spent in vain; no one comes to hear what I have to say. So God is not pleased when His word is left on one side.

It is not so in the christian home; it was not so in Timothy's home: “from a child," he knew the holy scriptures. Abraham, Joseph, Gideon, David, Daniel, and many others are not names only, they are all friends, well-known in the Christian home. God directs us to make use of His word, and He too makes use of it. The word of God brings life to our souls: while we obediently read or hear, God the Holy Spirit uses the word in this way.

This brings us to the second treasure—the inward treasure; that treasure dwelt in the grandmother Lois, in the mother Eunice, and in Timothy—"Faith unfeigned." Oh, precious treasure! which is in every christian home, which is in the heart of every child of God, which is the evidence of things not seen, and without which it is impossible to please God. It is through faith in Christ Jesus that the word of God makes wise unto salvation. You have the first treasure, little child, in your Christian home; do you say how may I get this second treasure? "Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God."

“Faith is a very simple thing,

Though little understood;

It frees the soul from death's dread sting,

By resting on the blood.

It looks not on the things around,

Nor on the things within;

It takes its flight to scenes above,

Beyond the sphere of sin.

Faith is not what we see or feel,

It is a simple trust

In what the God of love has said

Of Jesus as the Just."

Every child of an Israelite was born to the promises made by God to Israel: the river of mercy, with its rich promise of blessing, flowed through the home of the Israelite child, but did a Hophni or a Joash grasp the promise, or enjoy the blessing No; the blessing, then as now, to be lasting, had to be grasped by faith. Blessed indeed is the portion of the child who daily learns and daily hears the precious word of God, who daily shares the love, joy, and peace of the christian home; but to possess these blessed things for yourself, so that nothing can deprive you of them, there must be "faith unfeigned." Many blessings, more than I can describe to you, surround the child in the Christian home; all the precious things we have spoken of are there. How tender the Care that is over it; where can the Subject Place be learned, as in the Christian home? Where shall we look for the firm Rule of Love and for the molded heart? Where shall we seek the Faithful Servant but in the Christian home? Where shall the hand of, the little child be so surely guided to the precious thread, the Fear of the Lord, and where does the River of Mercy so abound; where are its waters so bright, so fresh, so sweet, so near, as in the christian home?

Yet, among all these many blessings, there is one which does not come to the child only because he belongs to the Christian home; eternal life is the gift of God through Jesus Christ our Lord. God loves to give it to the child in the home, but it is His gift, and faith unfeigned must be the hand held out to receive it.

“Of all the gifts Thy love bestows,
Thou Giver of all good!
Not heaven itself a richer knows,
Than the Redeemer's blood.

Faith, too, that trusts the blood through grace,
From that same love we gain;
Else, sweetly as it suits our case,
The gift had been in vain."

Cowper.

In every Christian home, too, a sweet name is heard, which was never heard in the Israelite home of old: I think you know what name I mean. It is the name of Jesus.

“Jesus I the name I love so well,
The name I love to hear;
No saint on earth its worth can tell,
No heart conceive how dear."

Marks were to be seen upon the Israelite who obeyed the command of Deut. 11, and how much more should marks appear upon the child who enjoys the blessings of a christian home!

I will tell you of one such mark, seen upon a child. This poor child was about to lose her happy home; death and other circumstances had brought this sad result. Several people were talking round her of the children's future; some planned one thing, some another; at last the little girl was asked her thought about one of the plans, and now was seen the mark, one precious mark, and it was this: she desired the company of the people of God above every other advantage. It mattered but little to her whether the new dwelling was to be in the town or in the country, by the sea or inland, with many or with few; she had but one wish, and her answer was soon given: "I never lived with any one who did not love Jesus, and I should not like to."

God heard that little girl's wish; surely it was precious to Him that love to the Son of His love should be the one attraction to the heart of that child, and her wish was granted.

Marks were seen upon the Pharisees, but they were very different marks, and displeasing to the eyes of Jesus.

Why was Jesus displeased?

It was because, "All their works they do for to be seen of men: they make broad their phylacteries and enlarge the borders of their garments."

The phylactery worn by the Pharisee was probably his imitation of the "ribbon of blue" which God had commanded Israelites to wear on the borders of their garments. The Pharisee loved to make this ribbon very broad, that he might have a large portion of scripture written on it; but the ways of the Pharisee did not show obedience to the scriptures by which he was marked. God is displeased with imitation; God is displeased with outward show; God is displeased with what is feigned or unreal.

There were marks on Timothy; he was “well reported of” by the Christians who lived near him, and later Paul said of him, "As a son with a father he served with me in the gospel." Many years, no doubt, passed between the time when Timothy stood at his mother's side and was instructed in the holy scriptures, and the time when he stood at Paul's side and helped in the blessed work of the gospel; but the last time was the fruit of the first time; it was the fruit of his continuing in the things he had learned. Like the little girl, he loved the people of God, and when he grew to be a man he did more—he helped the servant of God. Paul calls Timothy his work-fellow. He said of him, “He worketh the work of the Lord." He sent him to teach and to comfort the Thessalonians. Timothy did more than help; besides that, he shared with the servant of God. He, too, like Paul, was imprisoned for the Lord's sake.

And how shall the child of to-day be marked? Not like the Pharisee; not by showing more knowledge than others, but by so acting that those who see him may be reminded, by his behavior, of the things which he had learned: better than seeing scripture verses embroidered on your clothes will it be to see them stamped on your ways.

Do you remember little Emma, of whom I told you in “The Subject Place"? Obedience was stamped on her ways. Love, too, of the truest kind, to her parents and to her little brother; and, at another time, trust in God was the mark on this little child. A great noise had been heard, one night, and had caused confusion in the quiet house, for it was after midnight; all the children had waked up; servants were running about; everybody seemed alarmed; during a quiet moment, Emma's clear little voice was heard, "Shall I tell you a hymn," she said, "about how God took care of the people in the Red Sea, when Pharaoh ran after them?" Very likely the bustle of that sudden waking, and running hither and thither in the night, had reminded this little girl of the night of Terror long before, of which she had heard, when God had protected His people, and she wanted to remind others that He could do it now.

Some children, thus awaked, might have given trouble, to others by crying, and it would have been natural enough; hut little Emma had a comfort that was better than tears, and she helped, instead of troubling others.

This precious mark—trust in God, and also another mark—value for the Bible, were once seen on two little boys, at a time of much trial.

These poor children were orphans; a dreadful fever had taken their dear father and mother, almost suddenly, from them, and they were left, in the great city of London, alone and in poverty; they had an uncle in Liverpool, and as soon as their parents were buried, they started in search of him. The house in which they had lived was not their own; both their beloved parents were gone; only one thing remained to them of the happy home; it was the treasure, the Bible.

Liverpool, you know, is a great way from London, so the little travelers had many long miles to walk. One evening faint and weary, they reached a town, not many miles from Liverpool, where a lodging for poor travelers had been provided; they went to the house; they knocked at the door, and were admitted. There was a rule that whoever asked for lodging in this house of charity was to be searched, or examined, as soon as he was received; the little boys were taken to a room to be searched; a tiny bundle, in the hand of each, contained all their earthly possessions, except that, in one boy's pocket, was found a Bible, well kept and neatly covered. The man who searched the boys noticed their pleasing appearance and good behavior, and felt pity for their poverty, so he said to the elder boy, "You have neither money nor food, and still some way to go; if you like to sell me this Bible, I will give you five shillings for it."

“Oh, no;" said the child, and tears rolled down his pale cheeks, “I cannot sell my Bible, not if I starve."

“I will give you six shillings," said the man.

"Oh, no," repeated the child; "it has been our comfort all the way from London; however hungry or tired we have been, when we have sat down and read a bit from it, we have felt refreshed; we cannot sell that precious book."

“But," said the man, for he thought it was want of wisdom which made the child refuse his offers, and that he himself could give better advice, "what shall you do if, when you get to Liverpool, without a penny in your pockets, your uncle will not take you in?"

I wonder what most friendless boys would have replied to such a question: this little boy gave an answer of faith, from the precious book which he refused to part with.

“My Bible tells me," he said, “that when my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up."

Which was wisest? The man of years' experience, or the child of that poor but christian home?

You may never be asked, like these little boys, to sell your Bible; and in our days Bibles are sold so cheap, that few persons would be found to offer five or six shillings for one. You may never be tempted, by hunger, to part with the book; but how often children are tempted, for a small profit or a small pleasure, to part with some truth learned from the Book. Your own heart wishes to have or to do something, or somebody asks you to do something; a word of scripture, learned in the home, comes to your mind and bids you refuse: Will you give up this word of God? Will you "sell" it, to have the proposed pleasure or profit? Oh, “Buy the truth, and SELL IT NOT." Jesus said, “Blessed are they that hear the word of God and keep it."

“Holy Bible, book divine,

Precious treasure, thou art mine

Mine, to tell me whence I came;

Mine, to show me what I am.

Mine, to chide me when I rave;

Mine, to show a Savior's love;

Mine art thou, to guide my feet;

Mine to judge; condemn, acquit:

Mine, to tell of joys to come,

And the unbeliever's doom:

Holy Bible, book divine,

Precious treasure, thou art mine."

Let me tell you a story of a little girl who kept the word of God in her memory and in her heart through nine long years, though she was without a mother to teach her and without a Bible to read. Her name was Regina; her father and Mother were natives of Germany, but long before the birth of Regina they had gone to find a home in the distant continent of America. This was many years ago, and the home was among the lonely wilds of Canada. Very lonely it must have seemed at times to the poor mother, when she found herself settled among strangers thinly scattered over many miles, and speaking a language different from her own: but the treasure was in that home, and when the husband was away at his work, the mother would often gather her four children around her and read from the precious book; many verses of the precious Word did Regina thus learn from her mother's lips. Before she was old enough to learn a verse herself or to Understand much of what was read, she constantly heard a little verse of a hymn which her mother sang she went about her daily duties; for Regina, like many other little girls, loved to run by her mother's side wherever she went. The verse was this:

“Alone, yet not alone am I,
Though in this solitude so drear,
I feel my Savior ever nigh,
He comes the weary hour to cheer.
I am with Him and He with me;
E'en here, alone I cannot be."

Perhaps no day passed, in those early years of the little girl's life, without her hearing this little song at least once from her mother's lips, and thus by degrees she learned it too. Probably she understood its meaning but dimly, but she knew that it spoke of the Savior Jesus, of whom her mother read in the book; she knew that it comforted her mother, and the thought of the nearness and the love of Christ became a very real one in her heart.

A few years thus passed away in the quiet round of home life, and perhaps the poor emigrants were getting accustomed to their new country, when suddenly a dreadful war broke out in the part where they lived, between the English and the French, who both had possessions in Canada. The Red Indians, who are natives of America, took part with the French against the English, and, as Regina's parents were living in the English part and as English subjects, the Indians were against them; and one day, while the mother was away on business, a troop of Indians came down upon the home, set everything on fire, and carried away the children.

I cannot tell you what the poor mother felt or what she did when, returning from her errand, she found the house on fire and her little ones gone; she knew well that the Indians had done it, and had most-likely taken the children, tout this was a dreadful thought.

Poor Regina, meantime, was hurried along among a number of other unhappy little children, and she, with another little captive scarce more than a baby, was given to an old Indian woman. These two poor children led a miserable life among the wild, unruly Indians; seldom was any food provided for them; the old woman was usually supplied by the hunters, for most Red Indians are clever hunters, but Regina and her little companion lived chiefly on such berries and nuts as the woods supplied. When the hunters failed to provide for the old woman they had to find berries for her also, and cruelly indeed were they beaten if, on returning to the wigwam or tent in which the old woman lived, they had not found as much as was expected. Yet among those dark woods, dark captors, and dark days, poor little Regina's heart kept one bright ray: it was the remembrance of home lessons, and sweet home talks and readings. Every day, under the forest trees, the two little girls not only fed on the nuts and berries, but their souls were fed with the verses of scripture which Regina repeated from memory and taught to her little companion; and every day, how many times I cannot tell you, but often and often, the well-known verse would be sung to the well-known tune; and oh, with what deep meaning and comfort now, in this time of sorrow, such as few little children from a happy home ever know!

“Alone, yet not alone am I,
Though in this solitude so drear,
I feel my Savior ever nigh,
He comes the weary hour to cheer.
I am with Him and He with me;
E'en here, alone I cannot be."

How little had the mother thought, when in her loneliness she had comforted herself with this verse, in how much deeper a loneliness the sweet, simple words would comfort the heart of her poor child!

The verses of scripture, the hymns, and the lessons to the little one did not only comfort Regina; they kept her from the evil around her, and though she dressed like an Indian, and though her face was burnt and weather-stained so that she looked like an Indian, and though she learned the habits and language of those around her, there was still in her heart a bright spot.

God, in His mercy, did not forget these two poor children and the many others who had shared their fate; after, the nine long years had passed, peace was restored in the land, and the English, who had then authority over the Indians, promised to pardon their past misdeeds on condition that all the captives were sent back; so, from one place and another, crowds of poor, stolen children came pouring back from among the Indian wigwams and forests into the town where the English commander was stationed. Then, messages were sent to every part of Canada, saying that all the parents who had lost their children might come to look for them.

Poor Regina and her little friend were among the captives; the little one could scarcely understand what all the change meant, but Regina wept tears of joy when again she saw a white man; and at once, the bright spot left in her heart appeared.

“Have you got the book that God gave?" she asked; it was her first question. A Bible was brought, and how great was her joy when she beheld and found she could read one of the texts she had so often repeated in the lonely forest.

Soon, another great company came pouring into the town, which must have been pretty well crowded by this time; for there were no less than 400 of the poor stolen children, and now, hundreds of sorrowing parents were coming in search of those whom they had lost so long.

Regina's mother was in that company; the father was dead, the brothers were dead. Oh! how the poor lonely mother longed again to have her little girl; but alas, the poor captives had a wild, miserable look as they stood dressed in their ragged Indian coverings. The poor mother could see no one, in that strange crowd, that reminded her of the dear little girl who had run by her side in the home long ago; she turned away weeping. One of the kind officers who had rescued the captives came to her help. The poor mother told him she could not find her child, and Regina had been too young when taken, and had been too long away to recognize her mother.

"Can you think of nothing," said the officer, "by which your child might know you?”

Yes: the mother remembered the little, verse which she had so often sung with her child, and with a trembling voice she began the first line. Regina heard it; the well-known words, the well-known tune, and then she, remembered the voice, and with a great cry she ran out of the crowd and fell weeping into her mother's arms. Regina was safe enough now, for she had found her mother. No mother came to claim her poor little companion; she clung weeping to Regina, for her little forest teacher was the only mother she could remember, and so she was taken to Regina's home, for it would have been sad indeed to leave her again among strangers, and though she had not been able to teach Regina, she had been very useful to her; for all alone, the elder child might not have had the heart to repeat the verses and lessons as she did when teaching her little friend.

We have spoken now of many precious things connected with the christian home, the sure Foundation, the two treasures, the precious promises, the blessings, of those in the home, and the marks on those who come from it, and yet this is not all: there is yet another thing which we might call the atmosphere of the home—It is prayer.

Do you know what the atmosphere is?

We cannot see it, we cannot hold it in our hands, and yet without it, we could hear nothing and we could see nothing, neither could life be sustained; but we are not without it. God has graciously spread it all around us, and it reaches high above our heads. This is like prayer: the home could not go on without prayer; it reaches up far above the home, into heaven itself, and yet it follows and surrounds the child who belongs to the home, wherever he may be. In heaven the prayers of the people of God are precious: the Apostle John, in a vision of heaven, saw golden vials full of odors, and they were “the prayers of saints."

But though prayer is so precious and so wonderful, it is very simple. Prayer is just the cry from the heart to God. The Holy Spirit carries up the cry to God, and God hears it, for the sake of Jesus Christ. Prayer needs no long speeches or great words; the poor woman prayed who fell at the feet of Jesus saying, “Lord, help me." The publican prayed who said, “God be merciful to me a sinner." A child may pray. In your Bible you may read these words: "Let me hear thy voice betimes in the morning, for sweet is thy voice." Yes, prayer is very simple, but it is also a very holy and solemn thing: it is a very solemn thing to kneel down and ask God to look upon you and hear you.

“‘Tis not enough to bend the knee
And words of prayer to say;
The heart must with the lips agree,
Or else we do not pray.

I might as well kneel down
To gods of wood and stone,
As offer to the living God
A prayer of words alone."

But the child who has a wish or a want in his heart need never fear to tell that wish or that want to God, in his own simple, poor little words—

"Though in glory He is seated,
E'en the softest word He hears,
And the voice of little children
Soundeth sweetly in His ears."

Yet another thing may be found in the home, though it does not belong there. I mean shadow. Shadows do not belong to the home, and one kind of shadow has no business there at all: I mean the sad shadow of sin. Shadows are of different kinds. Have you ever seen a corner under a high wall or behind a high house; a corner that is always shadowed, always dark, always damp and cold? No one likes to sit in such a shadow as that; it is like the shadow of an Ishmael, an unruly, naughty child in the home. We will leave this shadow quickly. The other shadow is the shadow of leafy trees: the light may be dim, the brightness shaded, the air cool, but, as the leaves move hither and thither to the touch of summer winds, you find all the golden sunshine streaming between the shadows. This shadow is like sorrow, for sorrow often enters the Christian home. God sends it there to do His own work, but it does not take away the brightness or the light or the blessing from the home.

A little boy, whose name, Leigh Richmond, was well-known when he grew up, found a sad deep shadow fall suddenly upon his home. He was then six years old, and was one morning playing on a stone pathway, close under the house in which he lived, when he saw a dreadful sight. His little brother two years of age, who had been looking out at him from an upper window, suddenly reached too far, and fell upon the stones at his feet. The poor child picked up the little one and gave him to his mother, who had run out on hearing an alarm; the poor baby's head had been terribly hurt by the stones, but he remained for many hours in a half dying condition. The little boy never forgot that day of sorrow, nor the way in which his mother spent it. He had hold of her hand most of the day, and many, many times he knelt by her side, while she poured out her heart to God. She said, "If I give up prayer for five minutes I am ready to sink, but when I pray, God comforts me. His will be done." Another time she turned to her little son and said, “Help, me to pray, my child." Christ says, “Suffer the little children to come unto me." He forbids them not. This little boy of six hardly knew what to say in such a moment of distress, but he never forgot the patience which he saw in his mother that day, nor her trust in God; and he too learned a lesson, which lasted him through life, of the value of prayer.

Thus light, sweet heavenly light, shone through this heavy shadow of sorrow: the poor baby got a happy portion, for he went to Him who gathers the lambs with His arms and carries them in His bosom; the little brother's heart received a precious mark which never left it; the poor mother found heavenly streams of comfort and healing, and from her broken heart went up the sweet fragrance of prayer and trust.

Surely, if priests and Levites of old were to stand every morning in the house of the Lord, to thank and to praise Him, and likewise at even, the Lord desires to hear the sound of prayer and praise from the Christian home. The house of God is now no building made with men's hands, it is the company of all those who call on the name of the Lord. God the Holy Spirit dwells in this house. What a blessed place to be found in! The Christian family and the Christian home are meant by God to be pictures to our hearts of His own family, and of the happy home above.

“God has a family on earth

Of daughters and of sons;

His Holy Spirit gave them birth,

They are His little ones.

He watches over them for good,

And hears their feeblest cries;

He gives them shelter, clothes, and food,

Yea, all their wants supplies.

He knows their weak and tender frame,

Pities their griefs and fears;

And calls them every one by name,

And wipes away their tears.

To what the Lamb of God has done

They all their blessings owe;
'Tis for the sake of His dear Son

The Father loves them so."

Chapter 8: Abijah (Or, the Difficult Place)

“NEVERTHELESS I am continually with Thee, Thou hast holden me with Thy right hand; Thou shalt guide me with Thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory." (Psa. 73:23, 24.)

“Lord, I commit my way to Thee,
Do Thou my footsteps lead;
Be Thou in danger my defense,
My help in time of need."

1 Kings 11:28-37; 12:25-33; 14:1-18.

1KI 11:28-371KI 12:25-331KI 14:1-18IS there a child who has read sadly about the Christian home? Some child in a Difficult Place? A little lonely child, or a sick child, or a sorrowful child? For though the mercy of God has spangled this dark world all over with bright christian homes, just as He has spangled the midnight sky with bright stars, yet there are many difficult places between, and many feet, little and big, have to stand at times in the difficult place; but the difficult place is not therefore the dark place; oh no, it is the place for faith, the place for hope, and the place for love.

The child Abijah stood in a difficult place, as you will hear, though he was the son of a king. His father was Jeroboam—the first king who reigned over ten of the twelve tribes of Israel when they were divided into two kingdoms.

Jeroboam had been a servant of King Solomon, he is spoken of as "a mighty man of valor;" he was also an industrious young man; he had courage, strength, boldness, perseverance, and industry—all these were good qualities; perhaps he had some others which we are not told about, yet Jeroboam was a very wicked and miserable man. Good qualities or abilities may be in a man or in a child, yet, if the heart is not subject to God, these very good things only lead on to sin and ruin. Many things are good in themselves and have been given of God, but one who knows not God can only make a bad use even of good things. Jeroboam's industry and enterprise, that is power to plan and to do, were only his helps to ruin. For a time he seemed to prosper; Solomon made him ruler over some of his vast possessions, besides this a wonderful prospect was opened before him: the prophet Ahijah met him one day and told him that God would give him ten of the tribes of Israel, and that he should be king and reign to his heart's content. Ahijah also told why God was going to take ten of the twelve tribes away from Solomon, and this might have been a warning to Jeroboam; it was on account of Solomon's self-indulgence and idolatry, that his son Rehoboam was to lose so large a part of the kingdom; only two tribes, the tribes of Judah and Benjamin, were to be left to him, and that was for the sake of the promises of God given to David, of which I spoke in the story of Joash.

I fear that Jeroboam was like that fool who trusteth in his own heart; he heard what God said about Solomon's sin and idolatry; he saw its punishment, when the ten tribes turned away to him from Rehoboam; but he does not appear, for a moment, to have turned to God; he does not appear to have said to himself—If Solomon thus sinned and displeased God, and brought down punishment upon himself, what is to keep me from sinning? Do any of you ever behave like Jeroboam? Perhaps one child is in trouble through naughtiness; does another who sees it then turn to God saying, My heart is just like that, weak and sinful, only God can keep me? or does he feel pleased with himself, as though he were better than the naughty child? that is trusting in your own heart. If you think yourself better than the naughty child, you do not know your own heart; there is not in your heart one single spot that will produce goodness for God, and, alas! there is not one single sin that your own heart could not give way to, if left to itself. If we know our own hearts we shall know that, from beginning to end, God sees them fit for nothing but judgment. God kept on trying man, and man always turned out the same-a sinner. God tried Adam in the garden of Eden, with everything there to help him to be good and happy; but there, in the midst of God's many gifts, Adam disobeyed, and he was turned out of the garden. God tried the children of Israel. When He had showed them His power and goodness in bringing them out of the land of Egypt and through the Red Sea, God Himself took care of them in the wilderness, but there they murmured against Him, and worshipped a golden calf which they had made. God tried them in the land; He subdued their enemies and gave them abundance of good things; He punished them again and again; He delivered them again and again from the sorrow into which their sin had brought them; but they went on sinning until the Jews, who were the people left of the two favored tribes which God yet watched over and tried after the ten tribes had long been scattered, were a people under tribute to the Romans, that is servants to the Romans, in the land which God had given them for their own. The tender heart of God grieved over the people, who, with all His care and goodness, had gone on their own way. Psa. 81 will show you how He felt about them. God had yet one thing with which to try man. “Last of all he sent unto them his Son, saying, they will reverence my Son." But man did not reverence Jesus, the Son of God. “He came unto his own," that is to the Jewish people, and His own received Him not. “The chief priests and scribes sought how they might kill him." “Herod with his men of war set him at naught and mocked him." Pilate, though forced to say, "I have found no fault in this man," yet offered to “chastise him;" and when all the people together cried out, " Away with this man, crucify him, crucify him," "Pilate gave sentence that it should be as they required, and he released unto them him that for sedition and murder was cast, into prison, whom they had desired, hut he delivered Jesus to their will." All kinds of people were there, Jews and Gentiles, high and low, learned and ignorant, wicked thieves and those who were accounted good people, and when Jesus was, delivered to them, what was their will? It was all one will; all hearts of men were proved to be alike. When they were come to the place which is called Calvary, there they crucified Him. This was the heart of man. They crucified Jesus who went about doing good, they crucified Jesus who spake as never man spake. God could try nothing more. He would try nothing more. Not only God, but now all men could see what man's heart, left to itself, was like. What was done to Jesus when left to the will of man, to the heart of man? He was put to a shameful death. God has now one word for all flesh. “What the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God, sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh." The flesh means what you are by nature as born from Adam. “So they that are in the flesh cannot please God."

As soon as Jeroboam came to the throne, of Israel, he thought of a plan in his own heart, and took counsel with others who had but hearts like his own; he did not take counsel with God by prayer. God had given the ten tribes to Jeroboam, and God could have kept them for him, and He told him upon what condition He would do this.

In 1 Kings 11:38 we read: “And it shall be, if thou wilt hearken unto all that I command thee, and wilt walk in my ways and do that is right in my sight, to keep my statutes and my commandments as David my servant did, that I will be with thee, and build thee a sure house as I built for David, and will give Israel unto thee."

The heart of man loves its own plan much better than God's way. Jeroboam seems to have forgotten all that he might have learned from the messages of Ahijah the prophet, and, in order to keep the throne, he did the very thing because of which Solomon had lost the throne. He made idols; two calves of gold. He feared lest the people, if they went to Jerusalem to worship, should leave him and return to Rehoboam. Then he said to the people, "It is too much for you to go up to Jerusalem. Behold thy gods, O Israel, which brought thee up out of the land of Egypt."

It is sad to see the deceit, the foolishness, and the wickedness of Jeroboam, and also to see how readily the people followed him, how easily they were deceived. Foolish people! How could it be too much for them to go where God had told them to go? Was Jeroboam more merciful and gracious, was he better able to enter into the feelings of the people than the God who, hundreds of years before, had seen their affliction when they made bricks in Egypt, had heard their groaning, and had come down to deliver them? God did not at once forsake the people, though they so richly deserved it. He sent a prophet to stand before Jeroboam and warn him, while he was engaged in the idolatrous worship which he had invented. God will not accept as worship the inventions of man's heart, even though they may be intended in His honor. The prophet who came to Jeroboam prophesied of the child Josiah and of the work he should do; a work of destruction upon that which Jeroboam was setting up; but all this did not warn the foolish king, who trusted in his own heart. “After this thing Jeroboam returned not from his evil way."

Then judgment was determined upon him from God.

Such was the home of the child Abijah; a dark home indeed, for there the word of God was disregarded; a sad home, for the judgment of God was determined upon it; a difficult place, for with all its real darkness and sadness, there was much in that palace at Tirzah that would naturally attract the heart of a child.

Jerusalem had been the real chief city of the land of Israel, but when the kingdom was divided that wonderful city belonged to the King of Judah. Samaria, which is nearly forty miles north of Jerusalem, became, after a time, the capital of the kingdom of Israel, but it was not built until the reign of Omri, father of Ahab. Tirzah, where Jeroboam lived, is about five miles east of Samaria. We may be sure that he who was so clever and industrious as the servant of King Solomon, would not fail to surround himself, in his new palace home, with all that could add to his magnificence and enjoyment. He would know well how to do this, for besides his own industry and power, he had had the advantage of spending some time among the Egyptians, who were, as you know, a rich and learned people.

Abijah had a heart like yours; you know how much there is in glitter, and grand show, and luxury that naturally entices the heart. How easy it would have been for Abijah to have been satisfied, nay delighted, with finding himself the son of the king; how easy to have pleased his father by taking pleasure in the worship of the golden calves; how easy to have filled his heart with the grandeur and the enjoyment and the success and the self-pleasing which was all around him!

Yes, very easy. “For wide is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat."

Abijah would have had plenty of company in the easy way, father, mother, brothers, courtiers, servants; in the difficult place he stood alone. What could keep him? Why could not he, like all the others in that dark home, run in the easy way? Ah! there was in his heart “some good thing towards the Lord God of Israel."

There were good things, as we saw, in Jeroboam, but they were not good things towards God, and they only helped to lead him faster and further from God. What was the good thing in Abijah? We are not told of any great or good thing which he did; we are not told that he destroyed the calves of gold, or that he reproved his idolatrous father. No, that would not have been a child's place.' God sent a prophet to do that; He did not give that work to Abijah.

We are not told what good thing was in Abijah, but from other parts of scripture we learn what good things God takes pleasure in finding in a heart. One thing precious to God is a need of Himself; perhaps this was in Abijah. Perhaps he had read of the goodness of God to His people. His great goodness "laid up for them that fear him, that trust in him before the sons of men." Perhaps Abijah's heart had learned to say, Oh, this is what I should like a share in; I would rather have a share in the good things which God has laid up than in the grand things, the passing entertainments, “the pleasures of sin," which are round me in the palace. Perhaps Abijah's heart felt a need which could only be satisfied with the goodness of God.

Perhaps Abijah trembled at the word of God; this is one of the good things precious to God — "a heart that trembleth” at His word. Perhaps Abijah felt the terribleness of being surrounded with the idolatry which God hated; he was quite helpless. He could not put away the idolatry, for his father had set it up; he could not get away from it, for it was in his home, and he was but a child in his home; there was but one way out, it was not the front door or the back door, it was not east or west, north or south, it was up. Ah! that is the only way for the child in the difficult place. Abijah's heart could escape from the dark idolatry, up to the bright presence of the one true God, the Lord God of Israel; and while his heart was up, his feet were kept from sinking in the slippery place.

We may be sure that Abijah's heart did not turn upwards to God without receiving some answer of support and comfort from Him, and he must have needed it, for he must have been a lonely sorrowful child indeed in that dark home.

Jeroboam sinned against all the warnings he received; no repentance, no seeking after God, and he had to reap the fruits of his sin; the judgment determined was ready to fall upon the idolatrous family; but God remembered the weak, lonely, sorrowful child in that hour. He would take him away; Abijah fell sick.

Oh, what is to become of those who live in pleasure and who forget God, when sorrow reaches the home! It is not the sunlit shadow of the Christian home; no getting comfort from God, no bowing with broken heart to the will of God in Jeroboam's dark palace, only more planning in his own heart; first, inventions to keep the kingdom which God had given to him; now, inventions to keep the son whom God was about to take from him. It was a mercy to Abijah, but it was a sore punishment to Jeroboam, for no doubt he loved his son, and, as king, was proud of this heir to his prosperity.

Jeroboam called his wife and said, "I pray thee disguise thyself, that thou be not known to be the wife of Jeroboam, and get thee to Shiloh: behold there is Ahijah the prophet, who told me that I should be king over this people. And take with thee ten loaves, and cracknels, and a cruse of honey, and go to him; he shall tell thee what shall become of the child."

This plan of Jeroboam's was quite wonderful for its foolishness. How could Ahijah look forward through time into the counsels of God and know what would become of the child, if he could not look through a strange garment and know who had come to talk with him?

The plan, too, showed sadly what a dark waste the heart of Jeroboam had become; the only thing he says of Ahijah the prophet is, "He told me I should be king over this people." What he was to get, what suited the covetousness and ambition of his own heart, was all that he remembered; the sad lesson taught him in the punishment of Solomon, the warning given as to his own conduct, seems to have been quite forgotten. Jeroboam was not afraid to inquire of the one who had spoken with him, for he only remembered what pleased himself of that solemn conversation.

Ah! are not our hearts like Jeroboam's? How often people excuse themselves by saying, "I forgot." Yes, they forgot that part which was sent as a lesson to them, or which concerned others, and they remembered only that part which pleased their own selfish hearts.

Jeroboam's wife set off; she had a journey of twelve miles or more to go; she took the present; but could any present make the idolatrous king acceptable to the man of God? She dressed herself up. Useless labor! for had she appeared in all simplicity as the king's wife, Ahijah could not have seen her; his eyes "were set," that is, were blind, "because of his great age." Useless labor, too, this pretending to be what she was not, for could not the Lord see through any disguise, and would He not be before the foolish woman who traveled these twelve miles with her present and her pretense?

Ahijah was waiting quietly at home, but before the wife of Jeroboam reached him, the Lord had spoken to him. Deceitfully, yet perhaps, with all the clever planning, anxiously, the mother of the sick child stood at the prophet's door. At once her folly was disclosed, her hopes, which rested upon self, its plans and its offerings, were crushed. Thus will it ever be. “The hypocrite's hope shall perish." Solemn words sounded in her ears; it was the voice of the man of God, no voice of pity, a voice of reproach.

“Come in, thou wife of Jeroboam." Yes, she must come in just as she was. “Why feignest thou thyself to be another?” Why indeed! Why do pretense, unreality, deceit, appear in her ways? Because her conscience was uneasy. She knew well that she, with all Jeroboam's house, deserved the judgment of God. She knew it, but her heart was not tender like the heart of Josiah, she would not own herself or her house to be guilty, she still tried her own plan; two plans to which the heart of man ever clings when forced into the presence of God. She pretends to be what she is not; and she offers something of her own production to make herself acceptable. But all this is useless, she is seen to be what she is and none other; her present is not even spoken of; she gets no message of mercy, nothing but heavy tidings. Jeroboam had wished to know what would “become of the child," for he saw that he was sick. He would hear more than he desired, he would hear not only what was to “become of the child," he would hear what was to become of himself and all his house—all those on whom his hopes were set.

One thing was before them all—destruction; miserable, hopeless, entire destruction. Only one, of all that pleasure-taking house, was excepted. The one concerning whom Jeroboam had feared, the sick child alone, was not in danger. God was going to take him away from the evil to come. It must have been a sad, sad message to the mother's heart, "Arise, therefore, get thee to thine own house, and when thy feet enter into the city, the child shall die."

Yes; God, who knows how to bring honey out of a rock, light out of darkness, sweetness out of sorrow, bright hope from grief, knows also how to reprove, when needful, the hard, self-occupied heart. “Be not deceived; God is not mocked." The mother had not helped, had not taught, had not shielded, had not comforted, her poor little son; she had left him to bear alone the temptations and the sorrows of his dark idol-making home, and she was not to be with him in his last moments. The child had turned in his loneliness to God, and from his loneliness God would take him. Happy child! for the one who is cast upon God alone, finds what it is to have all the heart of God for him.

The mother traveled back her twelve miles, a dark and ever darkening road of judgment and bitter sorrow; no planning now was of any use, no disguise, no present! God had all in His own hands, and in the midst of judgment He remembered mercy, purest mercy, to the child who had needed Him

When the messenger of judgment reached the door, the child died: he was not, for God took him. The little helpless child, the child who had planned nothing, whose one only hope was towards the Lord God of Israel, got the blessing, escaped the judgment.

God's eye can single out everything. One little child who turns to Him, no matter how thickly, how darkly surrounded by the present idolatry of this world's pleasure-seeking, self-preserving, and God-forgetting, one such child, in all its helplessness, in all its worthlessness, in all its need is seen and singled out by God, kept and prized by Him as a precious jewel picked from a heap of this world's mire.

The mire of this world may look, in the light of this world, like costly jewels; the jewel of God may look like the off-scouring of all things; but “the Lord seeth not as man seeth, for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart." God sees if there be "Faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ." Of them that feared the Lord and that thought upon His name it is said, “They shall be mine, saith the Lord, in that day when I make up my jewels."

Is there a child walking in a difficult place, who fears the Lord, who has respect to His presence, and to His thoughts in a place where He seems well-nigh forgotten? How precious to such a child is the Name which he may think upon, the Name which we know now, “His name Jesus"!

“Jesus, I may trust Thee, Name of matchless worth,
Spoken by the angel at Thy wondrous birth,
Written, and forever, on Thy cross of shame,
Sinners read and worship, trusting in that Name."

And Jesus Himself has made known to us a name, a new name, which the child Abijah could not know—the name of Father. Yes; God condescends to make Himself known by that precious name, Father, to the child whose trust is in Him. "Come out from among them and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing, and I will receive you, and will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty." There is but one way of having God as our Father; not by any doings of our own, but only by receiving Jesus the Savior, thus only we become children of God. There is but one way of tasting and enjoying the love of the Father, who is ours by faith in Christ Jesus, it is by having our hearts kept from the love of the world. “Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof, but he that doeth the will of God abideth forever."

Jeroboam has passed away: his plans, his industry, his success, his honor, his riches, all are past; the place that knew him shall know him no more; only his name remains, with this dreadful stamp upon it, ten times repeated, "Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, who made Israel to sin." Abijah has not passed away, for God, who took that lonely child from his dark home, kept him, and in the day of resurrection he will be among those who walk in the light of the New Jerusalem, that city where "every several gate" was seen to be "of one pearl and the street was pure gold," the city where there was "no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it, for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof."

This was a vision, a heavenly picture displayed to the Apostle John; but it will be, to all who are washed in the precious blood of Christ, a glorious and eternal reality; truly we may say, “I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed, in us."

If, while the ten tribes followed Jeroboam in his idolatry and his ruin, while the whole house agreed to forget God, the child Abijah stood alone in the difficult place and waited God's own time and way of deliverance, and waited not in vain, how much more may the christian child stand quietly and meekly, yet with unshaken trust, in whatever place God has appointed him! Rivers of comfort and streams of light reach the christian, child, which Abijah never knew; all the sorrowful path is lighted now with the traces of His footsteps who was down here a, Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; all the fears, all the flutters of a timid, lonely heart are known to Him who Was touched with the feeling of our infirmities; yes, the difficult place is now the bright place of faith, constant looking up, up to the things which are not, seen, but which are eternal; it is the place of hope, too, a hope which "we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the veil, whither the forerunner is for us entered, even Jesus." Yes, you need never say, I fear to go on, I know not what is before me in this difficult way, you are not the first to tread that way; there has been a Forerunner, Jesus, and He has reached the safe place within the veil. The way is plain before you; besides, He lives there. "The forerunner is for us entered, even Jesus made a High Priest, forever;" from thence He sends down strength for the weak heart, strength so that the child, so trembling, so helpless, so needy, may be kept from sinking, kept with the heart and the eye of faith lifted up- "Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of faith, who, for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God."

With this plain way into the safe place, this support through the rough place, the bright view at the end, you are not put to stand only in the difficult place. The place of faith and of hope is also the place of love; what tender love and care pour down upon the child in the difficult place; what love, too, should be going out from him, thus blessed, to the barren place around! Of what use in a dry, sandy desert would a dry, barren stick be, however steady?

Are those whom God tends to be like barren sticks—just standing in their place and that is all? Or are they to be like weeping willows, just keeping their own branches green, always bowed down, and that is all? No, indeed. Even a child in the difficult place is set there to be like the Pitcher plant.

What a common, simple thing a pitcher is! Yes; but common, simple things are often those which we could least do without. Oh! what would the little, thirsty birds, the hundreds of small animals, the weary traveler in the stony, barren parts of the island of Java do, without the Pitcher plant? It has been set there, not in a moist, pleasant soil; not in a region of beauty, but there in the stony desert where it is needed; and there it “drinketh water of the rain of heaven." At the stalk end of each leaf of the Pitcher plant there is a little bag; a strong fiber or thread-like stalk holds a cover over each little bag, but just before rain falls, this fiber squeezes itself up and holds the cover of the bag wide open. So-when the trouble is greatest, the heart most needy, is the time to hear that word of God— "Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it," for just then blessing and deliverance are coming down.

Down comes the rain, and fills all the little bags of the Pitcher plant; then, down fly the little birds, out creep the little animals, and drink their fill; while all through every stalk and leaf and fiber of the giving plant, the refreshing shower carries strength for future drafts and future service.

It is not the business of the Pitcher plant to move about and pour out its drafts where it thinks best. No, its one business is to stand where it is set, and to hold out its open cups, first to catch the shower of blessing, then to give refreshment to all the thirsty ones who come; it must open its cups at the right time or they would not get filled with the precious drops, for the drops are sent, they are not its own, and of what use would it be to open the covers when the shower was over? the little birds would soon fly away from those empty cups. When the Pitcher plant has opened its cups, and has them filled, it must still keep them open; it is not set there to take care of itself only; it would be a useless thing with those full shut cups, and the excess of moisture would only cause it to rot away. The Pitcher plant is not a great river, known through miles and miles of wide country; it has not floods of water; it is not a reservoir; this is why I think it is like the child, in a, barren place; it has just little cups, tiny cups filled with every shower, and needy and ready and open again when the next shower falls.

Little Hannah was set, like the Pitcher plant, in a dreary, barren place: like the Pitcher plant too she had but tiny cups, but you shall hear how she opened these cups to get and to give. Hannah had several brothers and sisters, and her home was a poor one; besides this, a dreadful illness visited it, it was small-pox; all the children caught it, and they were only just getting well when the father met with a sad accident, and thus the home was made still poorer, for he could do no work. Hannah's grandmother heard of all the trouble; she was not very poor, she had a comfortable house, a hard-working husband, and no children to provide for; she saw Hannah looking ill, and took her to her own home to care for her. There, Hannah was a very lonely little child; in fine weather, well wrapped up, she could sit outside her grandmother's door and watch the children running through the street on their way home from school, but she was too weakly to run with them. She held a doll in her arms, but it was not all the company she wanted; her little thirsty heart wanted some love. Hannah's grandmother was good to her; she kept her neat and clean and warm, she gave her good food to eat, but she did not give those drops which the thirsty little heart longed for. I will tell you why this was: the poor grandmother had never tasted these drops herself, and you know we cannot give out to others what we have not got ourselves.

Well, when little cups are open you may be sure they will not be left long empty. It was not long before Hannah, at a neighbor's door, heard some sweet words; words of love, such as she had never heard before, for they were words of scripture. I am sorry to say, that though in Mrs. B.'s house a Bible was kept and carefully dusted, that was all the notice that was taken of it; it was never read. Hannah was only eight years old, and a very untaught little girl. I dare say she hardly understood the words she heard; hardly knew which were words of life and which were kind words spoken by the lady who read, she knew so little, but one thing she did know: her heart said at once, like the poor Hindoo with the spiked sandals, and like many and many a heart since, when it has heard of the love of Jesus, — This is what I want.

You see Hannah was not set in the barren place to wither away from thirst: no; God does not leave any one to wither. However dark or stony the place, if there is a little cup open, drops of blessing will come down into it, for heaven is not dark and stony; up there all is light and love. A drop was not enough for Hannah; she longed for more: timidly—for she was but a shy little girl, and among strangers in a strange place—she opened the door through which she had heard the sweet words, and asked leave to come in. The neighbor felt kindly towards the gentle little girl, and gave her a seat by the fire; soon the lady rose to go, then Hannah came forward and said, “Please, Ma'am, will you come to my grandmother?" Hannah led the way, while the lady followed; with a new joy in her weak little voice, she pushed open the door saying, "See, see grannie, the lady is coming to us!"

Mrs. B.'s poor heart was as empty and as dry as Hannah's, but she did not know it. She was not thirsty; she prided herself on having lived a good and useful life; she thought too that she knew as much as any who could visit her; for, as she said, she had lived for years in service in the highest families. Oh, how dry is the heart that drinks from no spring but its own good doings! Our own goodness, our own knowledge, will never fill a little cup to refresh a thirsty soul.

Mrs. B. did not care about the sweet drops of love, but little Hannah eagerly drank them in, and she had many an opportunity at one house and another of hearing more. She began to think much of what she had heard, and she asked her grandmother questions which she could not answer. Mrs. B. was very angry; she said Hannah should go out no more to hear the reading.

When next the lady came she complained bitterly. “That child," she said, "thinks more of what you say than of what I say. Last night she asked a question which neither I nor her grandfather could answer."

“What was the question?” said the lady.

"Why," said the poor ignorant woman, "she began to talk about her father who is dead and buried, and she asked what would become of him, and whether he would rise out of his grave. Now, I should like to know who could answer such a question?"

The visitor replied: “God has plainly told us in the Bible, that the dead shall rise again. ‘They that have done good unto the resurrection of life, and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of damnation.' The Bible is the only book which can make us know God, ourselves, and the way of salvation."

No wonder poor Mrs. B., though she thought well of herself, was so ignorant, for she never read her Bible, and she lived many years ago, when little preaching or teaching went on among the poor.

While this conversation was going on Hannah, who hardly understood anything but that her grandmother was much displeased and was complaining of her, cried bitterly.

Mrs. B. did not like to see the tears, perhaps they were a reproach to her from the gentle little child; she turned round angrily. "Stop crying," she said, "you can hardly see out of your eyes; if you shed another tear I will lock you up."

Hannah dried her tears; she looked up sweetly into her grandmother's face. "I will be good; I won't want to go out to hear the reading if only," she said, "you will let me pray to God. May I pray, grannie?"

Perhaps you will wonder what Hannah could mean; she did not know that God could hear a whisper; this poor little girl had learned so little. When she prayed she prayed aloud, and Mrs. B. did not like to hear it, but she could not refuse such a request, so she only answered, “Yes, you may pray if you will not talk about it."

So Hannah turned to the lady who stood by the door waiting to go away and said, "Could God hear me if I spoke softly?" How glad she was when she learned that God would hear the faintest whisper, that God listened at all times, that God could see, and would take notice of all the wishes and sorrows and difficulties of her poor little heart. Then the lady taught her some verses: "Pray to your father which is in secret." “His tender mercies are over all his works." "Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him." Now Hannah had a new joy. Before, her one hope had been to look out of the window watching for the lady who read and who spoke the sweet words; her one pleasure had been to see her coming, and then quietly to follow her to the place where she might be going to read. Now, she could look not only out of the window, a better place was open to her; she could look up, she could speak to, she could learn from the very One who spoke as never man spoke; and she had not to watch and wait for Him, and often to come away disappointed; He was always ready. Much comfort and precious teaching, which appeared in all her ways, Hannah stored up in this manner.

After a little while the visitor came again; she had not seen Hannah in the street, or met her in any of the neighbors' houses. Hannah was not in her little chair at home, neither was Mrs. B. there; her kitchen was tidy as usual, but empty. Soon Mrs. B. came from upstairs, she was weeping bitterly. Ah! her heart had not been softened and broken by love; now it was broken with sorrow. “Oh my child," was all that she could say when she met her visitor. “My dear child, so unlike other children, so gentle, so obedient, so loving, how can I do without you!" Hannah was upstairs; she was very ill; the doctor had been, he had given her medicine, he had done all he could. "I can do no more," he had said, “I fear she will die."

The lady went upstairs: Hannah seemed to know nothing of what passed around her. The lady waited for come time, then she went down again, but scarcely had she reached the lower room when Mrs. B. called to her: "My child is waking up; I think she is coming to herself."

The lady returned to the sick-room. The sick child knew her, and by a sign asked her to pray; then she anxiously looked at her grandmother. Yes, the proud heart was broken, even she felt a need then; meekly, just like a little helpless child, just as every one must who would share the blessing, she took her place beside the visitor, on her knees. God heard the prayers; little Hannah was raised up, and carefully she watched over her grandmother. Mrs. B. was softened, and no longer forbade the child to go to the readings, but that was not enough for Hannah: she would watch the time when her grandmother was least busy, then she would fetch in the visitor and bring out the Bible. Soon Mrs. B. herself loved the reading, and herself would say to her kind friend, “Perhaps you will come another day, Ma'am, if you are at leisure." The time came when Hannah was not obliged to pray only in secret, she and her grandmother prayed together; they longed to see the grandfather's heart softened. God, who had softened their hearts, could soften his. They knew this, and one day they got a wonderful answer: wonderful words were heard from the aged man. He had gone on his own way; he had "trusted in himself," but one day, after all the prayers and the tears and the longings, his heart opened, and he cried out suddenly, " Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief." Oh, what a comfort had little Hannah become in that dark and difficult place! What streams of refreshment had dropped, through her need and her longing, her drinking, her prizing, and her prayers, upon the barren ground! Hannah's home was not a barren place because luxuries were not there, because it was a small house in a poor street, or because she had no brothers and sisters there; it was barren for one reason: because the sweet name of Jesus was unloved there, because the love of Jesus was unknown there; and every home, whatever else it may contain, whatever comforts may fill it, whatever beauties may be in it and around it, however many loving brothers and sisters may live together in it, is yet barren, a dry stony place, if the love of Jesus is unknown.

Perhaps though, yours is not such a home; perhaps the Bible in your home is not a book carefully dusted and laid aside; perhaps, and I hope it may be so, that precious book is read every day. My home, you may say, is not a barren stony place. Well, if you are not set to be the little pitcher-plant in a stony place, are you like the sweet-scented violet among the green leaves of the garden? or like the fruitful trees there? Barren sticks in a barren place are of little use; and who wants barren sticks in a fruitful, watered garden?

Besides this, we are all like one very strange little plant; we are like the orchis. And why is this? Let me tell you what the orchis does, then you will soon be able to guess why we are all like that strange plant.

The orchis does not only grow down at its roots and up at its stalk; every year it takes one long step, and each year it grows up in a place several inches beyond the place where last year it sheaved its purple flower.

We are all like the orchis—moving on.

The orchis goes always one way; wherever it may be planted, it always travels its one, long, yearly step towards its own home in warm southern countries.

Are we all like the orchis in this? Do we all know a home and travel towards it?

No; it is very sad to have to say it, but we are not all like the orchis. Men, women, and children do not all go one way.

All are travelers; yes, all must travel.

“Passing onward, quickly passing,
Naught the wheels of time can stay;
Sweet the thought that some are going
To the realms of perfect day,
Passing onward,
Christ their Leader, Christ their way."

But there are two ways. One is the narrow way, it may be a rough way, a lonely way, a difficult way—but it LEADETH UNTO LIFE.

The other is the broad way; it may be a smooth way, a way of many things that please the heart, a way where many walk, an easy way—but it LEADETH TO DESTRUCTION.

All are travelers, swift-going travelers; not one step in a year, but many, many steps each hour and day, we all must make. Are you only travelers? or are you pilgrims Pilgrims know where they are going. Pilgrims are like the orchis, always traveling homewards, to the bright cloudless home.

The pilgrim can say:—

"I have a home above.

From sin and sorrow free;

A mansion which eternal love

Design'd and form'd for me.

The Father's gracious hand

Has built this blest abode;
From everlasting it was plann'd,

The dwelling place of God.

The Savior's precious blood

Has made my title sure;

He pass'd through death's dark raging flood

To make my rest secure."

Yes; the pilgrim knows where he is going:—

"One sweetly solemn thought,
Comes to me o'er and o'er;
I'm nearer home to-day,
Than I e'er have been before."

But even the pilgrim does not know what sort of places he may have to pass. Yours may seem an easy place today, but in how few hours you may find yourself in a very, very difficult place God will have it so, for He will not let the child He loves walk along without Him.

I know two bridges: one is so well made you would hardly know it was a bridge at all; it seems so like all the rest of the road; the river runs beneath it, but there is a good thick wall on either side.

Oh! you say, there is nothing to fear on such a bridge. What is the other bridge like?

It is such a shaky, narrow plank; with such a high scanty rail, only on one side. Every child who goes over there could roll off under the rail in a moment, and under that bridge the water is so deep and foaming and strong, and there is a great mill wheel too.

What a terrible bridge!

Yet I will tell you something, and perhaps it will surprise you; all sorts of crying and tumbling and accidents take place on the good bridge, but I never saw a little child tumble on the bad bridge, and I can tell you why. Whenever the little child comes to that shaky plank, and sees the great wheel turning, and the water splashing and rushing by, it fears and stops, and then it catches hold of its mother's hand, or very often is lifted in the strong steady arms of father or mother, and how safely then it crosses the difficult place! God can always find a way for His child, however difficult the place, or however suddenly it is reached. Once, long ago in Paris, a dreadful deed was done. Wicked people began to kill all the Christians they could find. A certain well-known man, named Moulin, heard that the murderers were approaching; he could not run out of the house where he was, for the streets were already full of wicked people; he crept into a large oven; scarcely was he in this than a busy little spider came and quickly wove its web over the mouth of the oven, and when, a few hours later, the murderers ran into the house to search for Moulin they said, "Oh, it is of no use looking here, for there is a cobweb over the oven's mouth; this house must have been deserted many days ago; " and they went quietly away.

Sometimes the place that looks easy and safe is far more dangerous to the little traveler than the place that looks rough and hard. God sees this, and in great love and mercy He spoils the pleasant place, and stops the easy-going traveler.

An artist had just painted a picture; a beautiful picture it was, and it had grown from his mind and hand; he loved his picture, he admired it so much that he quite forgot where it was, all his thoughts were swallowed up in the picture; it was hundreds of feet above safe, solid ground, and the artist stood only on a narrow scaffolding inside a high building. The artist was not alone; if he had been, I think he would very soon have been killed. Oh, what a mercy it is that we are not left to travel alone, but that God watches over us!

A friend was by the artist, and great was that friend's horror when he saw that the artist, while gazing at his picture, was slowly, slowly walking backwards to the edge of the scaffolding; there were so few steps between the picture and the edge of the scaffolding; such a great depth behind. The man's heart was in his picture, he forgot where he was moving. With pleasure and contentment on his face, with calm unconcern, yet with frightful certainty, he was going backwards to destruction. What could save him; he was lost in his picture! He could not hear a voice, he could not see his danger, nothing could save him but spoiling the picture that had thus entrapped his heart; the friend rushed forward, he seized a great brush of yellow paint and threw it towards the picture. At this strange sight, in fear for his beloved picture, the artist too rushed forward and so rushed away from the danger he had forgotten, and he was saved.

Sometimes now God spoils pleasant pictures. He does it in love to the traveler who forgets to consider where he is going.

God looks down on every home. No roof but what He sees through; no thick walls behind which His eye pierces not. His is an eye of love, looking for precious things: from dark homes and bright ones; from poor houses and rich ones; from lonely spots and crowded parts, God gathers out His own precious things. Sometimes they are picked from among the surrounding dust, as the silver piece was picked by the woman in Luke 15, who swept the house and searched diligently; then they are made bright and set to shine there; sometimes they are gathered, with one touch from the Father's hand; and taken home at once, just as you gather sweet flowers from lonely rocks and carry them home with you. Your flowers wither in a few days, but the little flowers God gathers bloom forever; for there “is no more death," in the bright home above.

God looked down into Abijah's home and gathered the child away, and then all the others in that dark idol-loving palace were left for judgment. There are homes of idols now, not golden calves, but idols of silver, of gold or what not; things with which the world tries to fill the hearts which God would fill with His own love. God often gathers little ones now from such homes, but then it is not to shut the door in judgment upon the others, it is to open a place for mercy and love. It is like the friend spoiling the pleasant picture, to save the traveler.

Oh! how the picture is spoiled when the little one is gone; the youngest, the darling of all: its childish beauty, its freshness, yet untouched by the world, its baby love and baby trust all gone; what a great big empty space a little one leaves! A little empty bed in the nursery, a silent corner there, a little empty chair, and oh, what empty places in the hearts of the father, the mother, the brothers, the sisters! Oh, what empty cups, if only each will open and hold them up for the shower of love and comfort that waits to pour down.

There was once just such a little one; the pride of his mother's heart, the darling of his four sisters, the youngest of all, the hope and the light of the home, and alas! he was the chief light, his home knew not the light from above; it was lighted only with the world's joys and the world's jewels, and with the fresh sweet love of this little child. Ah, what was to become of the child if he grew up there?—an heir of much wealth, a receiver of the good things of this life; time only used to be passed away, strength only spent to get honor and pleasure for self, no thought of things unseen which are eternal. The mother loved her little son; she WAS a widow, and he was thus doubly dear to her, but there was One above who also loved the little one, and He would take him away out of that dark, dangerous, difficult place.

Little did those in the house foresee what was Coming. A grand entertainment was planned, the guests were invited, the house made ready; God had planned something else for that same night, but those in the dark home knew nothing of it. The day came, but the shadow had fallen already across that house; little F. was ailing, each hour he grew worse. He must have perfect quiet and rest, said the doctor.

Perfect quiet! when the house in a few hours was to be filled with guests; when music, and talking, and many feet moving, and gay careless voices would soon sound through all the rooms!

What was to be done? In that home the world claimed its place; the world would not be turned out in a moment for that little child; the guests could not be disappointed, the preparations could not be wasted; the child would not hurt; he must be carried away to a quiet house near. So little F. was taken from his own little bed and his own nursery, away from his home it was to be his no longer; another was already opening to him. A dreadful illness had seized him. The mother's heart was, no doubt, anxious and sad as she saw her little suffering darling carried from the house, but she could not watch beside him then, she must attend just then to the business she had planned. Tomorrow the child should come back, and she would watch him and nurse him.

So little F. lay in the strange room, on the strange bed; nurses and doctors anxiously watching, while his mother was away. She could plan a time for her own doings, but she could not plan the time for what God was going to do. In the midst of all the noise and glitter from which the little sick child had been carried away, a message reached the mother, "You must come: little F. is dying," and so it was. I cannot tell you whether the little one had a parting look for his poor mother, or whether, like Abijah, he died as her feet reached the threshold; but it was only a short time, and he was gone.

No light of this world could hold back the dark shadow from that home, and no claims of this world could hold back the little child whom Jesus called. For “He shall gather the lambs with his arms and carry them in his bosom."

Oh, how tender the love that looked down upon that home and cared for that little one, and took him away from the evil to come! How tender the love that waited on each empty heart in that darkened house, and how tender the love that looks down now upon you. Are you in the difficult place? His word is "Fear not, for I am with thee." He has said, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." Are you traveling in the easy, the dangerous place? "both not wisdom cry and understanding put forth her voice? Now, therefore, hearken unto me, O ye children; for blessed are they that keep my ways. Hear instruction and be wise, and refuse it not. Blessed is the man that heareth me, watching daily at my gates, waiting at the posts of my doors. For whoso findeth me findeth life, and shall obtain favor of the Lord. But he that sinneth against me wrongeth his own soul. All they that hate me love death." Are you thirsty? Your heart constantly wanting something you don't know what; never quite filled, never quite at rest? Jesus stood and cried, saying, “If any man thirst let him come unto me and drink. He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never thirst." “He every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money, come ye buy and eat, yea, come buy wine and milk without money and without price."

Jeroboam's day of glory

Was the day of Israel's shame,

When they follow'd his vain idols,

And forgot Jehovah's name.

They, who in His Holy Temple

Did the Glory-cloud behold,

Now could leave His chosen altars,

And could worship calves of gold.

Oh! sad story, oft repeated,

Of man's foolish, wandering heart;

Yet, sweet story, intermingled,

Of how grace can do its part:

In the sin-benighted palace

Of the idol-making king,

He who searcheth deepest darkness

Yet beheld one precious thing.

Not the works of kingly labor;

Not the stores from Egypt brought;

But a child who, 'mid that darkness,

To the God of Israel sought.

And the king who, with his idols,

Had the land of God defiled,

And had led ten tribes to ruin,

Cannot lead that little child.

All the cloud of idol-incense

Cannot hide that precious thing,

Nor can any tide of evil

Snatch from 'neath God's shelt'ring wing.

Ere the storm of wrath descending

Sweepeth all with fury wild,

Silently, the hand of mercy

Plucks from thence that little child.

Fear not thou, then, youthful pilgrim,

Whatsoe'er thy dangers be;

He who neither sleeps nor slumbers

Watcheth over even thee:

All thy desert way thou treadest,

'Neath the shelter of thy God,

And thy feeble footsteps safely

Walk the road the martyrs trod.

He, who looks upon thy sorrows,

Bids thee look above to see

Him who hath the cross endured,

To obtain the crown for thee;

Looking thus, the tears thou sheddest

On the thorny desert road,

May refresh some barren places,

Which shall yet yield fruit to God."

Chapter 9: The Little Maid (Or, Opportunities Prized)

“AS we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men; especially unto them who are of the household of faith." (Gal. 6:10.)

Above thy head bright stars thou may'st behold—

Beyond thy reach, a multitude untold;

Formed by the almighty breath of power divine,

Unhelp'd, unharm'd by man, they perfect shine:

But opportunities around thy feet,

Those tiny things thy daily footsteps meet,

Are seeds, which prized by faith and nursed by love,

May yet unfold and shine like gems above.

2 Kings 5:1-14.

2KI 5:1-14I DARE SAY you have all heard before of the "Little Maid" — "The Little Captive Maid," as we so often call her; but we must remember that she was not always a captive, she had lived in her own home once. We are not told exactly where it was, but I think it was a happy home, for the little maid bore marks of a happy home-an instructed, hopeful loving heart,—even in the land of her captivity.

Israel was her own land, still a favored land, though the dark shadow of Jeroboam's idolatry had already lain for more than sixty years upon it. Yes, it was a shadowed and still darkening place, but the little maid lived in the rays of light that still shone down on His people from the faithful heart of God: and no child now need live in the dark shadow brought by man's sinful heart and sinful ways, for if rays of light shone then upon the favored land, much more do streams of light and grace pour down now, on every laud, in this favored day since "grace and truth came by Jesus Christ." The bright light and warm love are all around you. The eyes need only be opened to see, and the heart to receive, and it will all come pouring in.

"Oh! the glory of the grace
Shining in the Savior's face,
Telling sinners, from above,
God is light and God is love."

The little maid's home was most likely in the northern half of the land of Israel, perhaps not far from Samaria; about eighty miles north of Samaria was the land of the Syrians; they were a bold people, and they desired to possess themselves of the good things of that still goodly land, and they saw nothing, in the weak condition of the failing and rebellious people of Israel, to make them afraid.

A great change had taken place since the time, five hundred and fifty years before, when even the people who were settled in the land and dwelling in strong walled cities, had heard how God undertook for His own people; when Rahab could say, "I know that the Lord hath given you the land, and that your terror is fallen upon us, and that all the inhabitants of the land faint because of you. Our hearts did melt, neither did there remain any more courage in any man because of you; for the Lord your God, He is God in heaven above and in earth beneath."

This was according to the promise of God, given in Deut. 28:10: “All people of the earth shall see that thou art called by the name of the Lord, and they shall be afraid of thee," but the people had forsaken the Lord, and lost this promise.

The great doings of God, when His people had nothing; when, a weak and needy people, they were borne, as on eagles' wings, through the waste howling wilderness, had struck terror into the hearts of their strongest enemies. But now, since the great doings of God had been so forgotten, even by those in whose favor they had been wrought, and since Jeroboam had represented that great God under " the similitude of an ox that eateth grass," the Syrians' hearts found nothing to faint at, and they feared not to come out by companies and take captives from among the people of Jehovah: thus the little maid had found herself suddenly carried away from her pleasant home, and taken to the strange, dark land of Syria.

She was to live in a very grand house now; probably much grander than her home among the vines and figs and olives and pomegranates had been; for she was brought to the house of Naaman, captain of the host of Syria, and a great man with the king; but I am sure the grandeur of the Syrian mansion could not make up to this poor little girl for her own home. You know how much your heart would cling to your own home, how much you would long after it, even though it were but two little rooms, with bare whitewashed walls and uncarpeted floors, and plainest wooden chairs and tables-if you were away as a little slave in a great palace.

The little girl's business was to wait on Naaman's wife; she had been brought home to Naaman's house, and given to his wife for a present, just as some one might now bring home and give you a big doll, or a canary, or a kitten; but no one, in this country, could steal or buy and bring home a little girl; such a present would be refused as shocking and horrible.

The ladies in Syria lived in great indolence and luxury, and the little maid's chief duty was, most likely, to stand beside her grand mistress and just fan her, or hand her things, wash her hands for her, and do all kinds of services that now we should not think of asking or wishing any one else to do for us, unless we were deprived of the use of our own hands and feet.

Naaman, no doubt, was received with great honor and favor by the king of Syria, when he returned with his spoils from the land of Israel; but there was a very sad affliction in that home of grandeur and strength and luxury, and it touched Naaman himself: he was ill, and getting every day worse, with the dreadful disease of leprosy. This is a disease still common in Syria and other eastern countries: travelers coming there are often met, outside the gates of the cities, by crowds "of poor lepers; they beg of the traveler and show their terrible need by holding up, some, arms without hands; some, legs without feet; some, hands without fingers. It must be a horrible sight, for this dreadful disease not only, like other illnesses which we know of, gradually takes away the strength of the poor sufferer, but it also, by degrees, takes away his hands, his feet, and other parts of his body.

The little maid had no very hard work to do; perhaps the dull idleness of her life with Naaman's wife was just as hard to bear as hard work would have been, but while she stood fanning her mistress, or simply waiting in readiness to answer a call, she had plenty of time to think.

And whom was she thinking about? Was it about herself? Her own great sorrows? All that tried her and troubled her in her new, strange home? All that she wished she need not do, or all that she wished she could do?

No; all these would have been useless thoughts: I don't think we should ever have had the story of the little maid if these had been her thoughts. She was not occupied with herself, her own troubles, or her own advantage; she was thinking of the great captain, her master, who had brought her away.

And now, I think, we see the Sweet grace of forgiveness in this little maid. Naaman and his fierce soldiers had been the cause of all the sorrow which must have filled the heart of the poor child, of all the tears she must have shed, but her thoughts of him were all pity and love. She grieved to see him suffer. She grieved, as she saw the sorrow which this affliction must have daily caused her mistress. And the little maid did not only pity; no, she had come from the only land of grace and healing power; a land of shadow, yet of light and hope, and she had not dwelt in the midst of these good things to come away from them with an empty heart. All the wise Syrian servants might shake their heads hopelessly as they looked at their stricken master, but this one little girl from the land of Jehovah, had light and hope in her heart, and a remedy to propose.

No doubt the child, who could pity her master and thus remember the one help for the afflicted, had sought and found help for herself, and had found, as those who seek will ever find, comfort and wisdom and guidance for her new sad life. She seems to have grown in that strange place like Joseph, the captive in Egypt “the Lord was with Joseph, and showed him mercy and gave him favor in the sight of the keepers of the prison;" or like the child Samuel, who was in favor with the Lord and also with men. A very lowly, humble, hidden place was that of this little maid; even her name is not recorded, but the Lord could be with her in that hidden place, and give her the right thought, and the right time for speaking to her mistress, and favor with those who heard, so that her words should not be disregarded, as the words of many a little captive girl might have been.

How wisely, too, the little maid kept her proper place she did not go out and speak to the great captain; she spoke to her mistress. I think the little maid had been careful in her speech before; I think her words and, ways must have told of better things than the greatest in that Syrian land had ever tasted, or else the honored servants of the captain's house, and the great Naaman, and even the king himself would not have been moved at the suggestion she had made; and the train of attendants, with their chariots and horses, and the suffering captain, would not all have taken a journey at the word of this one little girl.

Naaman went, and he found it to be even as the child had said; the prophet Elisha was there, the power was with him and the willingness; when Naaman obeyed his word he found the blessing which the child had spoken of: he was healed. “Then went he down and dipped himself seven times in Jordan, according to the saying of the man of God, and his flesh came again like unto the flesh of a little child, and he was clean."

We know not where the stream of blessing, first opened in the house by the hand of that humble, faithful, forgiving little captive, ended. What a day of joy it must have been when Naaman returned quite cured-for God cures quite, when He is turned to; and it was not only an outside cure: Naaman's heart came back from the favored land with the same light and hope that the little maid had carried with her from thence; and might not the wife, who had sorrowed, who had hoped, and who rejoiced with Naaman, also share the blessing which, though not a leper, she needed as much as he? The servants, too, whose kind longing and care for their master is told us in 2 Kings 5:13, might find the blessing flowing on to them; and the child, who had given out of the treasures stored up in her little, lonely heart, would find herself not poorer but richer for all that she had given: for so it ever is, when we give of the good things which God has given to us—"He that watereth shall be watered also himself."

Though thousand needs were met before,

And thousands yet surround the door,

Grace upon grace doth ceaseless pour—

God giveth ever more and more.

How came this poor little captive maid to get and to give so much — "As poor, yet making many rich"? What could seem weaker or poorer or less likely to help or to give than a little captive, a little girl snatched suddenly away from all her belongings, probably having scarcely a thing with her that she could call her own?

But she had something; yes, even she; and you have the same.

Are you like the little captive maid—a giver, and a helper? Should you like to be like this little girl? What had this little girl? What have you?

Opportunities! And she prized them, that is she picked them up, and took care of them, and then she used them.

This is a long word—Opportunities. Do you understand it? Perhaps some little children do not know well what is meant by opportunities, and even very little children have opportunities, so they ought to understand what they are.

I suppose you have all seen a flowering plant-sweet scented Mignonette, or bright little Virginian stock, or pretty blue Nemophila, or tall Sweet Pea, and many others which you may think of and add to my list; what was to be seen of these sweet flowering plants a few months before they enlivened the garden or the town window?

If you are a little gardener, as many children are, you know well. Into the ground you put, not a tall or even a tiny stalk with fresh green leaves and bright or scented flowers, but a dry, dark seed, it might be a big seed like Sweet Pea, or a tiny black speck like Nemophila.

Now, opportunities are like these seeds; they are scattered all round you; they may not look like anything of worth, they may give no hint of the sweet bright flowers they will bear, but look about for them, don't let your feet run carelessly along your daily path, crushing and wasting the precious seeds; don't let your eyes wander about in search of all kinds of things that are not given to you; but look around, look carefully for the little seeds that are at your feet:

The wind has not blown those seeds into your pathway, as many seeds are blown; no every seed has been laid there by God. When you know this you will pick it up and say: God sent this seed to me; God gave me this opportunity. Oh! how carefully then it will be nursed, not in a garden or a pot filled with best mold, but in a heart filled with faith and love.

Some seeds are your very own; they are no one else's, and these are seeds of the most precious kind, they are opportunities of getting good. You will have to remember and give account of them one day. “For unto whomsoever much is given of him shall much be required."

And it is written, “As I live, saith the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to God. So then every one of us shall give account of himself to God."

This is told us to warn and encourage us, that we may make haste, if we have not begun before, and look about, and pick up, and nurse our own precious little seeds.

Children often have a garden given to them for their very own; perhaps a kind father gives you the little bit of ground. He has it dug up for you, he gives you little packets of seeds; he gives you a little watering-pot with which to water your garden; he does not leave you then, he is always ready to give instruction or advice or help to the little gardener. You sow your seeds, you water, you watch. What day are you looking forward to?

“Oh," you say, " I am looking forward to the day when my dear father who gave the garden and the seeds will come to see the way I have sown them, and will be pleased with the order of the garden and the bright flowers that fill it."

Supposing a father said, “There is a bit of ground, and there are some seeds, but now I can't think any more about your garden; you must not trouble me to look at the flowers when they are grown; you can have them all for yourself, and if they don't grow I shall never know it." What dull, dreary work it would be! Who would care for such a garden God does not give us opportunities and then leave us to make the best we can of them. No; He gives, He helps, He takes account of all.

The other seeds in your pathway are opportunities of doing good: these seeds cannot be crushed and wasted, as the first kind can, but they are often passed by. Those who do not prize the seeds which are their very own, their opportunities of getting good, are not likely to prize, and are not able to use the other seeds that lie a little way off from them; they pass on and do not see them; perhaps some one else coming after will pick up those precious opportunities, but they might have been yours to nurse.

Now, let us think over some of your precious seeds, your opportunities of getting good. I cannot tell you all of them, nor exactly all about them; I do not know just where you live, nor whom you live with, nor all that is in and around your home, but all these things God knows; He has determined the bounds of our habitation, and each one of us may say, "He knoweth the way that I take." He knows what seeds lie there. He who counts the hairs of our heads, counts also the seeds He gives. Will not you try to count them too “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and FORGET NOT all his benefits."

Some of your opportunities are the same as those of the little maid. You have heard about God, and you have heard of Him in a way that the little maid could not, for God is now revealed in a nearness and tenderness that was unknown before Jesus came. God is known in. Christ to be Love: Christ was always the Lamb foreordained, that is, always chosen of God to be the Savior of the world, but He was only manifested in these last times for you. Still, the little maid had learned enough of God to know where to look in the day of need; when she saw Naaman's affliction, she said, “Would God." It was not only “I wish," her wish was made known to God, she depended on God for its answer, and what was the consequence of this? She had a firm expectation. She says, without any doubt, He would recover him of his leprosy.

The little maid had heard of God: she knew something of the power and the goodness of God. She also had known one who was a vessel of grace and healing: every Christian now, every true believer in the Lord Jesus Christ is such a vessel, but in that day God's messages and God's gifts were sent chiefly through a few; these were called prophets. The little maid at home had known the prophet Elisha, and she had treasured up a loving, trusting remembrance of the man of grace.

Ah! here we have a solemn lesson; perhaps you already guess what it is. You have not, I am sure, forgotten the miserable children of Bethel, who it was they met; it was the same whom the little maid had known—Elisha; the same Elisha, but how differently known to them, how differently treated by them! Those forty-two children had the same opportunity as the little maid but how crushed and wasted; nay, more than wasted! The seed which, nursed in the little maid's heart with love and faith, proved a savor of life to the suffering Naaman, and perhaps to many round him, proved to be a savor of death to the forty-two children of Bethel.

I have seen as many as forty-three children together, all with the same precious seed in their hands. All together, in the presence of some messenger of Christ; all hearing together of the love of Jesus. Oh! sad indeed, if out of the forty-three, only one were to prize the opportunity and get the blessing. And if, instead of forty-three, it is only two or three children sitting together in their own quiet home, hearing together of Jesus, together learning those holy scriptures which the child Timothy once learned, and by which he became wise unto salvation, together saying or singing sweet hymns; shall they not together prize the precious opportunity, pray that their hearts may be as good ground for the seed to fall into, and bear fruit unto life eternal God, who gives you the seed, watches you too, and waits to give the blessing: remember how Jesus said, "It is not the will of your Father which is in heaven, that one of these little ones should perish."

Another opportunity you have, besides hearing or learning; it is daily reading. Do you prize this opportunity? It is yours, a seed in your pathway, even if you have never used it.

The little maid, perhaps, had not this opportunity, for books, as I told you in the story of Josiah, were few and scarce at that time; but in this day, since books are so plentiful, since the one precious book for the daily reading, the Bible, is so near you, so within reach of the poorest as well as of the youngest child who can read, there is no one, who reads at all, who can say, "I have not this precious opportunity." It is not much time that is wanted, or much learning; it is a heart to prize the opportunity.

David said — "How sweet are thy words unto my taste; yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth."

The mouth of a child can taste the sweetness of honey; and a child can taste the sweetness of the word of God, if only it reads with a simple, praying, expecting heart.

Jesus said, “If a man love me, he will keep my words." Do you love Jesus?

“We love him because he first loved us:” and how shall we know that love, and have it in our hearts, filling them with love in return, if we do not read the precious book where light and love shine on every page?

There were once two little girls who prized this opportunity; their names were Jane and Ann. I have known other little girls and boys who did the same, but I have chosen these to tell you of because none of you can say, “I have less opportunity than Jane and Ann," as you will hear. These little girls lived in Wales, many, many years ago, when there were many lonely Welsh valleys where Christian teaching, and Bible reading, and hymn singing were seldom heard: the seeds there, at that time, were small and few, but they were as precious and fruitful as ever for those who picked them up. The little girls had a sick mother, she could do little for herself; and almost nothing for her children. They did a great deal for her; they waited on her, they loved her, they talked to her; besides this, they worked hard for her, at such work as little girls could do. They could not use great strength, for they had not got that, nor great learning, nor great cleverness; these things they had not got, but they made good use of their time. Almost every moment of daylight they had to give to plaiting straw; by this they supported themselves and their mother.

Time is a precious opportunity; it is like the Bread-fruit tree, which will bear fruit of some kind, not once in a year only, but all the year round, if properly cared for. Still, Jane and Ann did not think that when they had waited on their mother, and plaited their yards of straw, they had used all their opportunities: a lady, who happened to meet with them, found a precious fruit in these little girls which had not come only from a value for time, she found their hearts stored with the words and lessons of scripture. Whole Psalms and chapters Jane and Ann could repeat; all sorts of questions they could answer; and when the lady went to see their home, wondering what opportunities they had of reading and learning so much, she found that they had what some would have called no opportunity at all; but they kept a Bible open before them,, while they plaited their straw, and thus they read and learned, while they kept on, hour by hour, at their busy work. What nice little nurses these children must have been for the poor sick mother! with tears in her eyes she told the visitor that no one could guess what a comfort her little girls were to her.

I can hardly think how two children, of twelve and thirteen, could get through so many hours of close work, day after day. I don't suppose any of you have to try and do as much as they did. Most of you have no need to keep your Bibles open while you are working at something else, but if you have a sick mother, or an aged grandfather, or a little brother or sister who cannot read, would it not be nice if you began now and read to them, two or three verses, every day from your own Bible? But first of all, if you have not done it already, begin with yourself; surely, if you seek for it, you will, find the opportunity-ten minutes' time, some little quiet corner where you can open your Bible and read for yourself some of those precious words—His words, who said, "The words that I speak unto you they are spirit and they are life."

Long ago, there lived in Germany a very pious and useful servant of God; it would fill my whole book if I tried to tell you all the good he did. He taught old men and little children; he encouraged the fearful, he warned the careless, he fed the hungry, he doctored the sick; and what do you think was the first thing that touched his heart, that made him pause and consider, when he was quite a little boy, that God had not made him and set him down here just to skip through life and pass his time as best he could, but that he, was sent down here to get and to give He saw nothing wonderful; it was a very simple sight in his own home.

“My sister," he says, "who was three years older than I, used daily to read and pray in her own room, and I never forgot her example, nor the sweet influence which, by it and her loving words, she exercised over me."

Besides this the good German, after he was grown old, wrote a little letter to the children whom he loved, and though you are not one of those particular children, yet I am sure he would be glad for you to read it, so I will put a part of it here for you. He says, "Dearly beloved children, it would give me great pleasure to see you loving the word of God, and daily reading it. Though you had nothing else all your life but God and His word, and clung to it with your whole heart, you would be the happiest of mortals, for everything else in the world has no stability, but God and His word endure forever."

Now, I must tell you of two more seeds: the first is a very bad one, and so you will not be surprised to hear that it is not one of those which God has scattered in your way. No, “An enemy hath done this." Yes, the enemy, the dreadful enemy Satan, also puts seeds in your way: the word opportunity is not often to be found in scripture; only four times, I think. You have read the verse which heads this chapter, that is one of the times, that speaks of good opportunities; two others speak of bad opportunities. One, in Hebrews, shows us how ready Satan is with opportunities to tempt the children of God out of the way of God; the other is a dreadful picture of Judas, who "sought opportunity" to betray the Lord; and soon Satan gave him that opportunity. That one awful sin of Judas cannot be committed again, but Satan is still ready, when evil or foolish wishes and feelings are allowed in the heart, to give opportunities which bear dreadful and bitter fruits.

Satan takes care that his seeds shall not be too small or too ugly; they are not like the little black seeds of the Nemophila; they are more like those great purple and pink-spotted bean seeds which children often like to play with. They do not always appear as sins; often they are only trifles with which Satan tries to waste your time and fill up your heart.

With these seeds, the other little seed I am going to speak of is often smothered; this other is not a favorite seed at all; people, young and old, everywhere, are found doing all that they can to avoid it. I must call it the Lonely Hour, or Opportunity for Thinking. How few prize this seed! How many, directly they get it or even see themselves reaching it, at once begin to plan something to get rid of it, or to smother it up!

There was once an unhappy man in prison; a friend kindly went to see him and talk over his troubles. What do you think he most complained of? He had so much time to think; and I dare say thinking in a prison was very sad work indeed. But I hope you are not, like this man, quite sorry when you have time to think. You remember the little Chinese boy, Kway Chung; he was not sorry when he had time to think, and you need not wait until you are sick and dying to think the same sweet thought that made him smile. Many other bright and pleasant thoughts may pass through your mind, of things you have read, or heard, or seen; and of kind friends whom you know. Children are not generally fond of thinking, neither is much thinking quite a child's work; and God, who knows the heart and the mind of a child, does not give many lonely hours to children in general; but He does send some, and they are precious seeds—oh! most precious seeds. How many hundreds of people have praised God for this opportunity—A Lonely Hour! Indeed, few will be among, the countless multitude above who have not, at some, time, owed some precious thing to a lonely hour. The little maid must have had this opportunity and used it well. I dare say you too have had it, and will have it again. Satan hates this lonely hour because it is such a precious seed. Oh, don't let him rob you of its preciousness! Don't fill it up directly with one of the big, bright bean seeds.

If ever you feel lonely, don't look about directly and say, What shall I do? Don't fill up the lonely time with fretfulness or with foolishness. Think what precious words Nicodemus heard in the lonely night, alone with Jesus.

What precious fruit came of that lonely hour beside the well at Sychar, when the disciples were away, and Jesus talked long with the woman!

I have told you of some great opportunities, and the precious blossoms that may grow from them, but the great things are never to make us overlook the little things. If you keep your eyes and your ears and your heart open, you may gather, and perhaps may give, something every day, it might be only a little help to a tired or needy person, or kind care of a younger brother or sister; perhaps, only some crumbs to a hungry bird, but every little seed will bear, if nursed, its own little blossom.

Some seeds all can certainly nurse.

But I must tell you a story of an unused opportunity; and why was it unused?

A seed may be in the hand, and the one who holds it may find he cannot nurse it.

There was once an Englishman, staying at a city in Persia, called Shiraz: the Persians, to do him honor, invited him to a grand dinner, and he went. Among the guests was one who took little part in the conversation, and once, when the Englishman said something wrong and foolish, this silent Persian, whose name was Mahomed Rahem, fixed his eyes upon him with a look of surprise, reproof, and sorrow, which touched his very heart.

After the dinner, the Englishman inquired more about, the Persian whose look had so affected him. "He was educated for a priest, but he has never acted as one," was the reply; “he is very learned, and much respected, but he lives very quietly and would not have been at this dinner to-day but, hearing that an Englishman was to be present, he came, as he had a great desire to meet with a Christian."

English people, you know, as well as people of some other nations, are nearly always called Christians. The Englishman felt much sorrow and shame when he found out what Mahomed Rahem had expected of him: the poor lonely Persian, who was a true believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thus really a Christian, though he had not the name, had come there on purpose to learn something from the Englishman, who was called a Christian; but, instead of getting help, he had had to give a reproof.

The Englishman was really sorry; perhaps he had had at home some opportunities which now rose to his mind: he went to Mahomed Rahem and began to talk with him.

Mahomed's opportunities had been few, but they had borne fruit. “Some years ago," he said,” there came to this city a young Englishman; he preached Christ with a boldness which till then had been unknown in Persia. He lived here for a year, and bore much scorn and ill-treatment from the Persian priests. I was among the number of his enemies, and several times I visited him on purpose to contradict and insult him. Every visit I paid shook my confidence in the false Persian religion, and increased my respect for the Christian: he bore our ill-treatment with such gentleness; he spoke so calmly, yet so boldly; I felt that he had the truth. But after that, shame and fear kept me from confessing the change that had been wrought in my opinions; I kept away from the Christian teacher; but at last, just as he was leaving Shiraz, I could not refrain from going to wish him good-bye. The conversation that night made a change, not in my opinions only, but in my heart.

“The Christian gave me a book; it has been my constant companion, my delightful study, my never-failing comfort."

With these words, Mahomed put into the hands of the Englishman a copy of the New Testament in Persian; on its first blank leaf was written, "There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth”—Henry Martyn."

The Englishman had held in his hand a precious seed an opportunity of refreshing the heart of this lonely Persian Christian. Why had he not been able to use it? I fear it was that he had not that life which alone could nurse such a seed. He had the name of Christian; he had perhaps heard more of Christ than the Persian; but there are those who have a name to live and are dead. I fear the Englishman may have been of this number: perhaps, after he saw the unused opportunity and heard the sweet story of the faithful Henry Martyn (once, like himself, a young Englishman in Persia), he sought and found the Savior. “In him was life, and the life was the light of men." There is no divine life in the soul that knows not Christ; and thus, no power to use the very most precious opportunities of doing good.

A beautiful crimson Dahlia once bloomed in a nobleman's garden: for two thousand years before, the bulb had remained without blossom. Why was this? It had been held in a hand, a human hand, but a dead hand; the cold, lifeless grasp of an Egyptian mummy. This Egyptian mummy is a picture of one who has a name to live—the precious name of Christian—but who is yet dead; who yet has not the Son, and has not life. "For this is the record that God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son." "He that hath. the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life."

Why should any be lifeless, when this incorruptible seed, the word of God, that word which by the gospel is preached unto you, is so near. “The word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth and in thine heart, that if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved." (Rom. 10:9.)

I cannot close my chapter of Opportunities without telling you about dear little Emma; not the little girl who has twice before given us a bright picture of a happy home child, but another Emma: hers was a very seedless path, yet even she had her precious opportunities. No one ever has a quite seedless path, however empty or barren his life may look; and then, we must remember, that one seed nursed will bring its blossoms, while a hundred seeds trampled on will bring no flowers at all.

Some children seem ready to pride themselves on the multitude of their seeds. How much more I know than So-and-so! I am much stronger; how much faster I can run, how much faster I can learn, how much better I can jump and climb, how many more things I have seen and heard.

Master Importance (or it might be Miss Importance, and how unlike she is to the little captive maid), but Importance always takes care to compare himself with those who have or who are less than himself. "A scorner loveth not one that reproveth him; neither will he go unto the wise.”

And now, with all these opportunities you can tell of, can you tell, or better still can any one who knows you tell, of any blossoms they have borne?

I will ask you another question, as to all you have and are. What hast thou that thou didst not receive? Ah, what! Nothing. The understanding mind; the instruction which daily forms and feeds that mind; the loving hearts that think so much of you; the pleasant home; filled with so many pleasant things; the strength to do; even the power to see and to hear, as well as all the useful things brought within reach of those quick eyes and ears; all, all are gifts from the free, undeserved goodness of God; precious opportunities, to be taken and used, not to puff up self, but to glorify God. "Knowledge puffeth up, but love buildeth up." If thou didst receive them, why dost thou glory as though thou hadst not received them? Learn love from the good things you have, not self-admiration; say, “What shall I render to the Lord for all his benefits toward me?"

There is not one of us, little or big, but must learn one day to say with Jacob, "I am not worthy of the least of all the mercies."

Little Emma had nothing to boast of: she could not read, she could not understand hard things, she could not walk, she could not use either of her little, helpless hands; and yet she was not forgotten; a little sparrow falling to the ground is not unnoticed by God, and no little child is forgotten because he is poor or helpless. Emma's mother dearly loved her little helpless child, and Jesus too had loved this little one, and given Himself for her, as she was soon to learn.

Just think of the wonderful love that must be in the heart of Jesus the Savior when He could give Himself, His own precious, holy self, to die upon the cross for little, helpless, sinful children.

“How sweet is the love which we bear to each other—
The love of our father or sister or brother;
But what is such love when we think of the cross
Where Jesus for us bore unspeakable loss?

No words can the love of the Savior express,
He laid down His life that His foes He might bless;
He was borne from the cross to the sepulcher's gloom,
And arose the third day from the strong guarded tomb.

And His love, precious love, has not spent itself yet,
His own in this desert He cannot forget;
And soon, in the love of His heart He will come,
To bear them away to His glorious home."

Emma had a kind, strong cousin who went to a Bible class; and though it was more than a mile distant from the village where they lived, she carried Emma in her arms every Sunday afternoon. Little Emma loved to go; she could not understand all that was read or said, but she learned this one precious thing, that Jesus loved her, that God was her Father, and that Jesus Himself would take her one day to the bright home above: then Emma's heart was happy; there was no fretful look on her little, sick face, but a gentle expression of peace and contentment; she could not sing with the other children, but trust and love made sweet melody in her heart to the Lord. And could Emma do anything? Yes; she used to lie and see her mother working hard with little strength, and she longed to help her, and I am sure you will be surprised when you hear that Emma, with those helpless hands, so wished to help her mother that she learned to use her feet, as you would your hands, and crocheted little woolen petticoats to sell. I have seen one of these, as nice and well-made a petticoat as your cleverest fingers could produce, but I fear Emma cannot do this now, for her body is weaker and her feet less able to move, as she grows taller and bigger. But God will not forget Emma. "Fear not therefore; ye are of more value than many sparrows."

“To Israel's land, when Israel sinned,

A band of Syrians came;

Took captive thence a little maid

Who knew God's holy name.

She waited on Naaman's wife,

A mighty captain he;

But, sad to tell, all cover'd o'er

With dreadful leprosy.

The little captive soon makes known

What wonders may be wrought
By God's own prophet in her land,

And begs he may be sought.

Naaman left his native land,

Commended by his lord,

And carried in his leprous hand

A present and reward.

With horses and with chariot grand,

The warrior soon is seen

Before Elisha's door to stand,

With high and haughty mien.

‘Go, wash in Jordan, and be clean,'

The prophet's message given:

But this ill suits the warrior's mind,

His chariot back is driven.

The servants now draw near and say,

In words both wise and kind-

'If some great thing thou hadst to do,

Would'st thou have been behind?'

Naaman listens to their words,

Is now at Jordan seen,

Seven times he dips beneath the waves;

Behold he is made clean."

Chapter 10: The Widow's Son (Or, God for Me)

IF God be for us who can be against us." (Rom. 8:31.)

"Perfect love casteth out fear." (1 John 4:13.)

God is for me—wondrous story!

Can such goodness really be?

God, the God of Light and Glory,

For a ruin'd thing like me.

Secret hid from earth-taught sages,

Yet to childlike faith now shown;
Secret kept through countless ages,

In the cross of Christ made known.

Blessed they who learn to say it!

In a risen Christ, who see

Him who could alone display it,

Spite of ruin—God for me.

Once against me, Satan's power,

Once against me, self and sins;

All o'ercome in that blest hour

Which at Calvary begins.

God is for me—words of glory,

Secret to my heart made known:

Blotting out its own sad story,

Filling it with Christ alone.

When shall dawn the day of glory,

"Face to face "I then shall see

Him who told in Death the story

Of God's perfect love to me.

All the church in heavenly glory

Ever one with Him shall be.

This alone the perfect story

Of His perfect love to me.

God for me—oh, wondrous story!

Secret which from heaven doth shine!

All the praise and all the glory,

Lamb of God! be ever Thine.

1 KINGS 17

1KI 17THE Little Maid gave us a few thoughts about Opportunities and Responsibilities, that is about all the good things God has put in your way, and the answer He looks for from you in return; but above and beyond all the opportunities, there is a precious lesson for my heart to learn, the very secret of all good, a wonderful secret, a secret which angels could never have guessed, yet which God is willing to make known to every listening heart, even the heart of a child, and it is this—God For Me. Three such simple words; the youngest of readers can read them for himself or for herself, yet three such precious, such wonderful words, that it will need the bright light of heaven itself and all the days of eternity to make us fully understand them. But they were made known in a dark day, that day when “there was a darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. And the sun was darkened:” it needed all that long solemn story of Luke 23, the story of the cross of Christ, to make a way for these three little words—God for me.

If you had made a beautiful picture you would need the light of the sun to show it by, or if the sun was set you would need the light of a lamp or candle, but God does not show His best pictures by the light of men's lamps and candles; no, nor even by the light of His own sun; it is often in a dark day that His brightest things are seen.

The day of “The Widow's Son" was a dark, dark day in the land of Israel. Ahab was then King of Israel; scarcely twenty years had passed since the day when Jeroboam had reigned, and had led the people to sin, yet, in that time, five more kings had reigned before Ahab; all these five kings did evil in the sight of the Lord. Omri, the last of them, did worse than all that were before him, yet “Ahab, the son of Omri, did evil in the sight of the Lord above all that were before him. And it came to pass, as if it had been a light thing for him to walk in the sins of Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, that he took to wife Jezebel, the daughter of Ethbaal, king of the Zidonians, and went and served Baal, and worshipped him. And he reared up an altar for Baal, in the house of Baal, which he had built in Samaria. And Ahab made a grove; and Ahab did more to provoke the Lord God of Israel to anger than all the kings of Israel that were before him."

Jeroboam's name had a stamp put upon it: Ahab's name also has a dreadful mark; of him it is said, "There was none like unto Ahab which did sell himself to work wickedness in the sight of the Lord, whom Jezebel his wife stirred up." What a dreadful household! Ahab, Jezebel, and the daughter Athaliah who was, you will remember, the wicked grandmother of the young king Joash. I said rightly that it was a dark day in Israel when such a king as Ahab, such a queen as Jezebel, and such a princess as Athaliah dwelt in the palace of Samaria.

Ahab, like Pharaoh, feared not God; he worshipped the idol of the Zidonians—Baal. But there was a man in Israel whom Ahab did fear and hate; for the one who, walking by sight only, does not fear God because he does not see Him, yet often fears the man of God whom he does see. The little maid could remember Elisha with love and trust, but Ahab the king feared Elijah, he called him his enemy, yet his hatred and his fear could not keep away the prophet, neither could his neglect of God keep away the message of God. Unasked and perhaps unexpected, but sent of God, Elijah appeared one day before Ahab, and he had a dreadful message to give him. Elijah was not afraid of Ahab, though Ahab was a king, and one who desired to put him to death, for “the righteous are bold as a lion." Elijah stood before God, that is he constantly remembered that he was in the presence of God, and therefore he could stand boldly before Ahab and give him a message which would sorely displease him.

“As the Lord God of Israel liveth, before whom I stand, there shall not be dew nor rain these years, but according to my word." The punishment spoken of in Deut. 28:23 had come upon Ahab: "The heaven that is over thy head shall be brass, and the earth that is under thee shall be iron." Ahab thought much of the good things of the land, although he thought so little of the God who gave those good things; but what would now become of his vineyards and oliveyards, his gardens of herbs, his fields of corn, his pastures, his palm trees, his pomegranate trees, his sycamore trees?

All his desires, all the cleverness of the wicked Jezebel could not give him now one shower of rain or one drop of dew. All the gardens, one by one, must wither; all the vines must droop; all the corn must be dry and useless; all the grass must be burnt up; the cattle must languish, the people themselves must suffer hunger and thirst; slowly yet surely, step by step, a dreadful famine stole upon the once pleasant land. The sad words in which, later on, Jeremiah described Jerusalem, did well to describe Samaria and the country round, in the wicked Ahab's day: “Judah mourneth, and the gates thereof languish; they are black unto the ground; and the cry of Jerusalem is gone up. And their nobles have sent their little ones to the waters: they came to the pits, and found no water; they returned with their vessels empty; they were ashamed and confounded, and covered their heads. Because the ground is chapt, for there was no rain in the earth, the plowmen were ashamed, they covered their heads. Yea, the hind also calved in the field, and forsook it, because there was no grass. And the wild asses did stand in the high places, they snuffed up the wind like dragons; their eyes did fail, because there was no grass."

On and on, for at least one hundred and ten miles, the desolation spread; a dreadful train of drought, barrenness, hunger, thirst, and death. Alas, how much sorrow one man's sin can cause!

The people of Israel did not share only in Ahab's punishment, they had shared also in his sin. So with all people: "By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin, and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned." By Adam sin entered into the world, now all are sinners, because they are descended from Adam the sinner; but besides this, all who have lived even a very few years have added their own sins to the number of those, which have called forth the wrath of God, and filled the once beautiful earth with sorrow and death.

In the midst of all the hunger and misery God kept His servant, the prophet Elijah, but it was a great disgrace to the people of Israel that to feed Elijah God first used ravens and afterward a woman of Zarephath, or, as the name of the town is called in the New Testament, Sarepta. God was angry with the wicked people who had turned from Him to idols. God hates sin; but no sin and no anger ever can turn grace and love out of God's heart. In the midst of this dark, day we see a wonderful and beautiful proof of this. It was a woman of Zidon who had brought in all the misery, and it was a woman of Zidon who was to find God her refuge from the misery.

We are told that it was Jezebel who “stirred up” Ahab to the excess of wickedness which he committed; it was Jezebel who taught Ahab the worship of the idol Baal. Jeroboam had sinned very greatly in making for the people two calves of gold, and the ten tribes had sinned very greatly in going to Dan and to Bethel to worship before these calves, but the people still worshipped Jehovah and no other God, though the wickedness and foolishness of Jeroboam led him to represent Jehovah under the image of a golden calf. The worship of Baal was another and even more dreadful sin: Baal was an idol, a real heathen idol, worshipped by the Zidonians; when Ahab and the people worshipped Baal, they set up this idol as equal with God, or as instead of God. No wonder that God was exceedingly angry, and that the whole land mourned.

But God was still love. Grace to sinners still was in His heart, wonderful grace, which, in the time of this misery and wickedness, was going to display itself in the very place from which it had all sprung up. “Many widows were in Israel in the days of Elias [which means Elijah], when the heaven was shut up three years and six months, when great famine was throughout all the land: but unto none of them was Elias sent, save unto Sarepta, a city of Sidon, unto a woman that was a widow."

Elijah, though the faithful servant of God, had to feel something of the sorrow and trouble brought by the sin of the people; and now the children of God down here have to share the sorrows which sin brings into the world; but God takes care of them through it all, and God took care of Elijah. When the brook Cherith dried up, as, one by one, all the brooks were drying up, because there had been no rain in the land, "the word of the Lord came unto him." Then Elijah had to take a great journey; it must have been a journey of obedience and faith; it was needful for him to take this great journey to reach the woman of Zidon whom God, in His wonderful grace, was going to bless; it was also, no doubt, needful for him to practice this great lesson of obedience and faith, so that he might be fit to teach it to the poor woman. For you know we cannot teach to another what we have not learned ourselves. Even Elijah had to learn before he could teach.

Clad in his long, rough dress of camels' hair, girded with his leather girdle, his prophet's staff in his hand, he made that great journey of one hundred and ten miles. You know that Elijah made a greater and far more wonderful journey afterward, from earth to heaven, but that was a bright journey; this must hare been a very sad journey to the heart of the prophet, as, mile after mile, he walked all across the land, and saw the once fruitful country stamped with death. It must have been sad to him to leave one beloved spot after another, and to know that the message of grace he carried was to be for a stranger. Perhaps in his heart there was something of the sorrow which grieved the heart, of the blessed Savior, and of which, nearly a thousand years later, we get so wonderful a picture in His own words: "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! Behold, your house is left unto you desolate." "And when he was come near he beheld the city and wept over it."

What caused Jesus to be down here a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief? It was sin. When we have learned this, can we love sin? Can we admire or indulge that self which is a sinner, a source of sin?

God gave Elijah strength for his long journey, and fed him as he passed through the famine-stricken land until at last he stood before the gate of the city of Zarephath. Zarephath was about fifteen miles north of Dan, which was one of the most northern cities belonging to the kings of Israel; it was also more than twenty miles west of Dan, for it was on the borders of the Great Sea, or as we now call it, the Mediterranean Sea.

Zarephath was a beautiful city, probably also a rich and busy city, for the works in brass and iron, for which the inhabitants of Tyre and Sidon were so famed, were carried on there also. The deep waters of the Great Sea which, on calm days, were blue with the reflection of an unclouded sky, and bright with the light of an unshadowed sun, and in rough days tossed upon the very stones of Zarephath, brought the city not only beauty but riches; for you know the sea is a great help to traders, and in days when land traveling was not so easy and swift as it is now, few cities rose to greatness if they were unhelped by seas and rivers. Still, in this day of famine, iron and brass works would not meet the need; all the furnaces and all the skill of those skilful Zidonians could not supply one drop of the rain for which man and beast languished. Even the richest of that rich city must have had something to endure, and what was to become of the poor widow? What a poor needy thing must the son of that widow have been! a helpless child, depending on a helpless widow, and famine all around. They must have suffered much before they came to the day when they had nothing left but a handful of flour and a little oil.

They knew of nothing, this widow and child at Zarephath, beyond what they could see, or even if they had heard of what the God of Israel had once been for His own people. The promises were not theirs; they were not Israelites, but Gentiles: “Strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope, and without God in the world." They had no claim upon God, that is, they maid show no reason to why God should look upon them in pity, and deliver them from their distresses, the famine which was starving them, and the death that was approaching. But just because they saw nothing in themselves to give them any hope, just because they could find no reason why God should have mercy upon them, they were those to whom God would show this wonderful secret—God for me.

The widow left her barren house; she walked along with a heart as desolate as the desolate streets through which she passed; a sad, dreary plan was all that her heart had to look to. She was going to gather two sticks that she might make a fire, and then make two little cakes from the handful of flour and the oil, and bake them and eat them, with her son. All she expected then was to sit down beside the cold fireplace and the empty barrel, to watch her child die, and to die herself.

But this was not God's plan for the widow.

He cares for "the fatherless and the widow, and loveth the stranger in giving him food and raiment."

Yes, it is much better to be God's stranger, taken care of by Him here in this sin-stained earth, than at home in the world, taking care of myself in the place where Christ was a stranger, and could say, "Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head."

The poor widow was soon to find herself better off than those who had ten times as many handfuls of meal in their barrels, and a cruse full of oil, but just now she was outside the gate of the city, sadly picking up her sticks. We don't hear anything about the little son being there to help her, perhaps he was already too weak from famine fare to be able for such work; for those who have read stories of famine know that much weakness has been felt before the last handful of food has been reached; but the child was not forgotten, wherever he was.

In the midst of her sad work, and sad thoughts, some one called to the desolate woman. Oh who was this? Was it a rich neighbor of Zarephath, who knew her need and pitied her starving child? No, it was no inhabitant of Zarephath; the long, rough hair garment was no dress for those people of Zidon who loved their ease, and who gloried in their fine linen and purple dyed robes. This was a stranger; and alas! he spoke not of giving; like all the rest in that needy day he spoke of need; he began not to give, but to ask. “Fetch me, I pray thee," said the stranger, "a little water in a vessel, that I may drink."

The widow's heart, though so hopeless, seemed not hard, for she could supply what the stranger asked, and she left her own sad work at once to fetch the water. There were fountains within the city of Zarephath, and, though brooks were all dried up, fountains or springs from deep sources in hills yet flowed. Thus we see how, in the midst of judgment, God remembered mercy; for had there been no stores of water beyond those brooks which dried when rain failed, no man or beast could have survived through all the land.

The widow could go and get a little water for the stranger who, as you will have already guessed, was Elijah; she could bring it to him and then return to her own dreary task. Yes; she could do that much, and learn nothing, and get nothing. But God meant her to get something. He had not sent His servant all those hundred and ten miles just to ask for a drink of water. The widow was to get what she never hoped for, and what she could never have had but that God is love.

Just as she was going to get the water, the stranger called her again and said, “Bring me, I pray thee, a morsel of bread in thy hand." What! a morsel of bread asked for as if it were such a light thing, asked as if the widow had many a morsel at home! Oh, she could not do this: the morsel he asked for was her very last, all that was left between her and death. She must tell out all her poverty to this asking stranger; she must describe herself just as she was, a poor widow without hope in the world. She said, "As the Lord thy God liveth, I have not a cake, but an handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse: and behold I am gathering two sticks, that I may go in and dress it for me and my son, that we may eat it, and die."

And what was Elijah's answer? "Fear not." Yes, just when you have found out that you have nothing at all and can do nothing at all; just when you have had to own that you cannot do what is required, this is the answer, “Fear not." But Elijah says more than that. God sends a message to this widow for her heart to rest upon. God knows our hearts and our ways far better than we do. “If our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart and knoweth all things." God knows that our hearts have a very sad story to tell us, plenty of reasons why God should be against us, so He does not only say "Fear not." He knows that would not be enough of light to outshine all the dark story of our evil hearts and evil ways. He shows us Jesus the Savior. “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life. 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. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved." Yes, God is for us: that is why He gave His only begotten Son.

God sends you a message to-day, just as He sent a message to the widow hundreds of years ago. Elijah's message to the widow was, "Fear not; go, and do as thou hast said: but make me thereof a little cake first, and bring it unto me, and after make for thee and for thy son. For thus saith the Lord God of Israel, the barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail, until the day that the Lord sendeth rain upon the earth."

This was a wonderful message; a message from the God of Israel to her, the stranger widow, and while she heard it, a wonderful change took place in her heart; something quite new came in there: “Trust in the Lord God of Israel; Faith in the word of God." It was a difficult thing she had to do, without faith she could not have done it; unless she believed the message she could not go home and take of that one handful of flour, and make a cake for Elijah FIRST. But "she went and did according to the saying of Elijah." This was the obedience of faith. Faith made her able to give up that handful of flour, give up her only last little hope, and cast herself upon the word of God. She had nothing at all at that moment to encourage her heart but the word of God. We do not read that she went home and looked into her barrel to see whether it were likely to yield a supply. No, there would have been no comfort there, nothing to encourage her heart; she might have stood and looked at the handful of flour until she died, she never could have found in the bottom of that empty barrel one single ray of hope; and we shall never find in our own hearts one single thing that will encourage us to believe or enable us to say—God for me. We can only learn it, as the widow did, from the word of God.

She went and did according to the saying of Elijah (that means she did exactly what the message told her to do), she made the little cake for Elijah FIRST and brought it to him. Then she went home again and found there was enough flour and enough oil to make a cake for herself and her son, and it was not, as she had once feared, their last. "She and he [that is Elijah] and her house did eat many days. And the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord, which he spake by Elijah."

What a wonderful sight that child of the widow must have seen, morning by morning, day after day, just enough to supply them with the food they needed then; quite enough, but no more; they took and they took, but still the barrel of meal was never quite empty. This, you know, was a miracle; a wonderful thing contrary to nature which only God could do: God could have done another miracle, God can do all things, “Our God is in the heavens; he hath done whatsoever he hath pleased." “Whatsoever the Lord pleased, that did he in heaven, and in earth, in the seas, and all deep places." God could have filled the widow's barrel quite up to the brim, but He chose rather to feed her in this manner, handful by handful; this was His great goodness. He did not find it a trouble to remember the widow and her child every day; every single day through all that year God remembered the widow and supplied her barrel with the handful of meal and her cruse with the little drop of oil; and you know a full year is three hundred and sixty-five days.

God is the same now; He is ready to think every day of you, and every day to supply your needs. Oh, how many more days than three hundred and sixty-five He must have kept you in His remembrance and on His heart, before you could be sitting down reading or hearing this book!

Perhaps, while Elijah sat with the widow and her son, eating of the food so wonderfully provided, he told many other things about that God who had remembered the stranger, the God not only of Israel, but the God of the widow and the fatherless. The widow's heart perhaps could, sing for joy as she looked at her child, no longer starving but fed by the liberal hand of God. Children and other people are often ready to sing when enjoying the good gifts of God, for “Every good gift is from above;" but "every perfect gift is" also "from above." The widow had a good gift, that unfailing supply of meal and oil, through all the days of famine; but it was not a perfect gift, it could not meet the whole want of her heart, neither could it preserve her child alive, for " Man doth not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord doth man live."

I do not think the widow's heart was quite at rest, though she may have sung, and though she may have learned to trust in the word of God, and no longer dreaded that want which once had come so very near her. The widow's heart was not quite at rest, neither was the heart of God at rest. It is written—"He will rest in his love." But God had not shown the poor widow all the love that was in His heart towards her when He had promised and had given that daily supply of meal and oil. If God was for the widow, she must learn that God was more than a provider of supplies for her daily hunger.

In the midst of the plenty the child fell sick, and his sickness was so sore that there was no breath left in him. He died! Yes; after the last handful of flour had been reached he had yet been kept alive, day by day, for a full year, but now, though the meal wasted not, and the oil failed not, he fell sick; and nothing came in to hinder it, he died.

Ah! what would be the use of any plenty to the widow now? Her child was dead. And this was not all; the unrest of her heart came out; after eating so many days of the supply given by the goodness of God, she still could not be sure that God was for her. Her son had suddenly fallen sick and died: it was the hand of God; and now she began to fear that God was against her. This fear was even more terrible than the loss of her child. There is nothing so terrible to any of us as the fear that God is against us. “Fear hath torment." If you have ever felt fear of anything at all, you will know how true this is — "Fear hath torment." The widow looked into her own heart, she saw nothing there to comfort or encourage her; everything in her own heart said, God is against you. Her own heart was sinful; there were a number of sins hidden in her own heart, she had tried to hide them from herself, but now they rose to her remembrance, and something told her that they were not hidden from God.

You know what can alone blot out sins from God's sight and put them away from His remembrance; it is the precious blood of Christ; but Elijah could not tell the poor widow about this, for Christ had not yet died; still, God was for her; not against her, and God, in a gracious and wonderful manner, taught her this. Elijah took the dead child from his mother's arms and carried him up to the loft, which was his room in the little house. Then he laid the child's body upon his own bed and prayed. "And the Lord heard the voice of Elijah, and the soul of the child came into him again, and he revived."

I wonder what was in the mind of the mother while she waited wonder whether Elijah had said a word, when he took the child, that gave her any hope. I think she must have had some hope, or she would not have given up all that was left her of her little son, though it was only his dead body, into the hands of Elijah. Perhaps the Lord Himself taught her heart something during that anxious hour; whatever she hoped, or however much she expected, it was not too much, for " Blessed are all they that put their trust in him," and this poor widow had put her trust in God, though she did not learn till that day all that God could or would do for her.

Presently, Elijah returned from his room; I am sure the mother heard him coming and was ready to meet him. What joyful words answered her expectations—"See, thy son liveth." "And the woman said to Elijah, Now by this I know that thou art a man of God, and that the word of the Lord in thy mouth is truth."

How precious was the little son thus given back to his mother's arms and his mother's heart; and how precious was the lesson she had learned! God, who had supplied her wants, had also given back her son from the dead; even her sins, which she so well remembered, and which were now no longer hidden like a great weary weight in her breast, did not cause God to be against her. God was for her; that means, God was on her side; God took her part. Poverty, want, sickness, sin, death, all might come against her, but God had shown Himself to be for her, spite of all, and “if God be for us who can be against us?"

God is not against you. Oh no; who could read those precious words, "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son," or "The Father sent the Son to be the Savior of the world," and yet think God is against us? If such a thought is ever in the heart, it is a lie which Satan has put there. He was “a liar and a murderer from the beginning." God is for us. Looking into my heart will never teach me that God is for me. It will give no more comfort than the widow's empty barrel. But when I look by faith at the death and resurrection of Christ, I can say—God is for me. "If God be for us who can be against us?"

God for me shuts out Satan, though he goes about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour.

God for me shuts out the world; for the more I know God for me, the more I shall love to be God's stranger here, like the widow of Zarephath.

This widow of Zarephath lived nearly three thousand years ago; many changes have taken place since then; the flourishing towns on that coast of Phenicia are deserted. Britain, which at that time was an unknown island, peopled by idolatrous barbarians, has become, in fame, something like the land of Zidon; but all this time God has not changed. Still, " Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father: of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning." Earth too is unchanged in this, that plenty of needy, hungry people are still to be found; and God still pities the need of His creatures, and still sends good gifts in wonderful ways.

Not very many years ago there was a poor man who, through illness and hard times, had been unable to give his family their usual supply of food and other needful things. He lived in a lonely cottage, half a mile across a common; he had struggled on without asking relief, in the hope of work and better days, but, notwithstanding all his efforts and hopes, the sad day came at last when "the wolf was at the door;" that is starvation, which destroys people like a hungry wolf. The man had no money, there was nothing in the poor lonely cottage but bare need. How like it was to the widow's little house at Zarephath!

Night came, and all the family went hungry to bed, and very hungry they rose in the morning. But they could not eat, for there was nothing to eat. What could they do? They could cry to the God of the needy; and God heard their cry.

The people who arose to plentiful breakfasts on the other side of the common could not hear the cry of the desolate family, but God, who did hear, put a thought of them into the heart of a kind lady who did not hear: she was surprised at the thought that came into her heart, for, though she had perhaps visited this family in former times of sickness and need, she had had no idea that they were still so badly off, but the thought was in her heart, and knocking so very hard that she could not put it away. The thought was this-Go at once, and carry a loaf to the poor cottage on the common. So hard did the thought knock that, though it was early morning, and the lady had had no breakfast, she started at once on her errand with the loaf in her hand, and, on reaching the door, she heard the poor man praying and saying, “O Lord, help me. Lord, Thou wilt help me, Thy promise cannot fail; although my wife and my children, and myself have had no bread to eat, and it is now a whole day since we had any, I know Thou wilt supply me." Oh! how glad the lady was that she had made haste and gone; she pushed open the door, and gave the answer that the needy man was expecting. “Yes," she said, "God will supply you, He has sent you this."

Many, many of the poor could tell a tale like this, and though you may never be in need of bread, yet God is so good to you that He will take care to teach you, in some way, your need of Him and His great goodness: all the good gifts are to remind me that God is for me, and is ready to give perfect and eternal gifts. "The gift of God is eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord."

Sometimes God teaches by giving. I am sure the little children who prayed with their father and who got that loaf in so unexpected a manner had an opportunity of learning a lesson about the goodness of God which might last them forever; but sometimes God sees it needful to teach by taking away or by allowing want; perhaps the widow and her child could never have learned the love of God towards them, if the famine had not reached even to Zarephath,

Many can praise God for His supplies, His good gifts, and many can also praise Him for the time of need which taught them how many things they needed more than bread, and how much more God could and would do than give food for a needy body; it taught them what God could do for their needy souls. Once, a poor man and his wife sat in their little room; they were in great need; they had a miserable room, nothing to sit upon but two stools; the weather was bitterly cold; worse than this, their fire was going out, and they had no more coal or wood to put on it; besides this, they had eaten their last crust of bread at mid-day; it was Sunday, and they did not expect to get any more money until Tuesday; saddest of all, this man and his wife had not that strong confidence in God which the man on the common had. Thompson, for that was this man's name, had partly to blame himself for his present misery, for when he had his money he often wasted it. He sat on his little stool thinking, and a very sad thought it was. How could he and his wife live from Sunday to Tuesday in the bitter cold, without any fire or food? Presently, another question came into his mind. “Why were he and his wife in such misery?" He began, like the widow when she saw her child die, to remember his sins; then some words came into his mind. “Wife," he said, "have we not heard somewhere, ‘The face of the Lord is against them that do evil'? I believe that God is against us, because of our evil ways."

God was not against this poor man, much as his ways may have deserved it; God was for him, and so He let hint feel cold and hunger that he might "consider" his ways before it was too late. God, in great goodness, was teaching this poor man and his wife. Soon he spoke again, he was learning his lesson, for who teacheth like God?

“I think," he said, “God has sent this misery to draw us to Himself. Let us kneel down and confess our sins, and ask God to have mercy upon us." This man wanted more than a little coal or a loaf of bread, and so does every one, for "Man doth not live by bread alone."

There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth," and that room, which a few minutes before seemed to contain nothing but sin and misery, soon showed the sight over which heaven rejoices—, the poor man and woman kneeling down before the little stools, confessing their sins, and praying that they might find mercy through Christ, and might know how to live so as to please God. They were not praying for food, for the dreadful misery of their sins seemed to have shut out the other misery from their remembrance, but God remembered all their need. They had only just risen from their knees when a neighbor came in; he had been sitting down to his own comfortable tea when the thought of poor Thompson came into his mind, and he wished to go and see how he was that cold afternoon. This neighbor kept a shop, and was well off; he soon saw the need, and brought food and fuel. But the man and his wife had found a supply in that hour of starvation which was to last them forever. While they praised God for the needed food, they could praise Him too, with tears of joy, for His mercy, and “His mercy endureth forever."

Well, dear children, the widow at Zarephath, or the starving Thompson and his wife may all seem to you very different people from yourselves; you may be full of life and spirits; you may have known little of sorrow, and nothing of want; instead of a life to look back upon, yours may seem all before you, but you could not begin it in a better place than that which Ruth, the Moabitess widow, once took, "under whose wings thou art come to trust." Then, you will never be left to know the torment of fear, for "Perfect love casteth out fear." God's perfect love; and, but for that perfect love, what torment of fear would be the portion of every man, woman and child "But we see Jesus," who by the grace of God tasted death for every man, "that, through death, he might 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." All who by faith "see Jesus” can say, "O death where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" "If God be for us, who can be against us?"

“He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust; his truth shall be thy shield and buckler."

Dark was the cloud of Jehovah's wrath

That hung o'er the favor'd land.

No rain to refresh the thirsty earth,

No spring-time hope or harvest mirth:

Death walk'd on every hand.

River and brook, in silent gloom,

Proclaim'd the land's impending doom.

Sad was the heart of the widow—sad

The lot of the widow's son:

A handful of meal was all their store,

And a little oil—nothing more,

Their course was nearly run;

No hope had they of a fresh supply,

No thought but to eat and then to die.

But lo! there comes to the city's gate

A stranger; he asks of her-

Say, can she give of her tiny store?

Can she trust the message and fear no more?

Yes, faith makes no demur,

And obedience of faith shall surely see

God, who in grace is God for me.

Daily the hand of a faithful God

Shall the need of her house supply.

Though darker clouds beset the path,

Sin remember'd with fear of wrath,

Though e'en her son should die.

Famine and fear and death must flee

At the word of Him who is God for me.

Thus, though the cloud of Jehovah's wrath

Hung o'er the favor’d land,

The stranger widow shall learn to trace

Through famine and death the God of grace

With still unshorten'd hand.

And the widow's raised son shall be

A token to all of God for me.

Chapter 11: The Lad Here (Or, Used of the Lord)

“GOD hath chosen the foolish things of the world, to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the World, to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to naught things that are; that no flesh should glory in his presence." (1 Cor. 1:27-29.)

Though 'tis but a handful, and thousands be there;

Yet all who have need find enough and to spare;

For Jesus the Lord, who dispenses the feast,

While filling the greatest, forgets not the least.

JOHN 6:1-15

JOH 6:1-15IN the north-eastern part of Palestine is "the sea of Galilee which is the sea of Tiberias," it is about twelve miles long, and six broad; this sea of Tiberias or Galilee is almost what we should call a lake, for it is surrounded by lofty hills. Its waters are beautifully clear, so clear that the fish which live in them can be seen when they are far below the surface; the lake is also full of those things which are most fitted to make the land which it waters fertile. I do not mean things in the water which can be seen apart from it like the fish, but parts of which the water is composed; for water is a mixture of different things. There is lime or chalk in some water, then it is very bright and sparkling; there is iron in some water, then it is dull, and sometimes tinged with yellow; some waters are of a beautiful blue color, and in these there is iodine. From the snow, which always covers the higher mountains at some distance from the lake, abundant streams run into the Jordan, and this is thought to be one reason why the waters of Galilee make the country so fruitful; for the river Jordan runs through the lake of Galilee; we read that "there was much grass in the place," and, besides grass, beautiful trees and flowers, the graceful willow, the flowery oleander, and others may be seen on the very borders of the lake; further away, on the most distant side of the lake, are wild, dark caves, those " tombs " spoken of in the gospels, from which the two men came out who were "exceeding fierce," but whom Jesus tamed so that one was seen "sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind;" no longer fierce or hiding himself, loving those wild dark caves, but asking Jesus "that he might be with him."

Beyond the caves are the grassy hills, and from their tops can be seen the snowy ridges of the great mount Hermon. Perhaps it was this fertilizing snow which was in the mind of David, when in Psa. 133 he spoke of “the dew of Hermon which descended upon the mountains of Zion."

On this day of John 6 the grassy hills must have been crowded with people; they had not come out to see the clear waters of the lake, nor the flowers that grew beside it; no, nor even great snowy Hermon. One, greater than Hermon, was on the hill that day; One, greater than David, greater than Solomon, or than Solomon's glorious Temple; Jesus Himself was there; Jesus, who had been "moved with compassion," and had touched the poor leper, and healed him, had cured that terrible disease about which I told you in the story of the "Little Maid," with one touch of His loving hand, and those words of divine power, "I will; be thou clean." Jesus was on one of the green hills beside the lake; the people from the country round had seen His miracles. From Cana they came, for they had seen how He had made the water wine. From Capernaum they came, for they had seen the nobleman's son, who had been sick of a fever, but who had begun to amend “at the same hour in the which Jesus said," to the father, “thy son liveth;" they had seen, too, that child of twelve, that only daughter who had lain dead. A “fear not” had been heard from the lips of Jesus; "all wept and bewailed her, but he said, Weep not, she is not dead but sleepeth." Then the hand of Jesus had touched the little girl, as it had touched the leper, and His voice had spoken to her, “Maid, arise,... and she arose straightway." The widow of Nain might be there, no longer childless, but perhaps followed by the son whom once she had followed, as he lay a lifeless corpse, upon the hopeless bier.

“Christ could not be hid—for the blind and the lame

His love and His power would together proclaim:

The dumb would speak out, and the deaf would recal

The name of that Jesus who healed them all.

Christ could not be hid,—for the widow of Nain

Would point to the son now restored her again;

Would say 'twas His love, His compassion and grace,

Gave back that lost son to a mother's embrace."

Christ could not be hid; He had gone over the Sea of Galilee to the lonely hills on the further side, but even there a great multitude followed him; a very great multitude it was, thousands of people; they had all come out to see and to hear Jesus.

Perhaps you think you would like to have been one among those thousands; children were there; they saw Jesus, the One apart from all those thousands, though in grace among them. I can tell you a little about what the lake was like, and the hills round it, but I cannot tell you anything about the appearance of Jesus; among all the things told us of Him we are nowhere told what His face was like; we may read what David looked like, or Absalom, or Esau, or Elijah; but of the appearance of that one wonderful Person, whom all those thousands had come out to see, we are told nothing, Through all the four gospels, which are the story of our Lord's life upon earth, we never read anything about the face of Jesus. When John looked upon Jesus he said nothing about His appearance, but he said, "Behold the Lamb of God." We do not need to know His appearance, but we do need to know His heart. His heart is made known; His precious words scattered through those gospels tell the heart, the holy, gracious heart of Jesus the Savior; His " I will " to the leper; His "Fear not " to the nobleman; His "What wilt thou?" to the blind beggar; His "Come and see" to the disciples who followed Him; His "Come unto me" to all who need Him; His "Suffer the little children;" His "Father forgive them," when by wicked hands He was crucified and slain; His "It is finished." All these, and many, many more precious words, tell us the heart of Jesus. "All bare him witness and wondered at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth," for “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh," and "never man spake like this man."

Jesus is also made known to us by His deeds. Those who “wondered at the gracious words" also bore witness to the deeds, and said, “He hath done all things well." One deed above all shows us the heart of Jesus; our poor little hearts can never know all that is in that heart; but that one deed, when upon the cross, “He loved me, and gave himself for me," shows out all the heart of Jesus; and those who learn His heart down here shall see His face in heaven. Then, “face to face." Then, “like him." “We know that when he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is."

Jesus, who will be the Center of the heavenly glory by-and-by, was the Center, that is, the One with whom all were occupied that day on the hill; Jesus, too, in His love, was occupied with them. He had compassion on all these poor people who had come so far to see Him, because they were such poor, wandering people, like sheep without a shepherd.

You know what poor, silly, helpless creatures sheep are, and how much they need a shepherd: sheep cannot find food for themselves; sheep cannot guide themselves to green pastures; sheep cannot guard themselves, or take care of themselves one bit; if a sheep even falls into a ditch it cannot get itself out; it will lie there until it dies, unless the shepherd comes and finds it and picks it up.

What would become of sheep if there were no shepherds? but with the shepherd how safe they are! How safe are the children whom Jesus, the Good Shepherd, gathers with His arms, and carries in His bosom! When we know His heart, how glad we are to be carried in His bosom!

“The flocks of men are bought with gold,
And grass is all their food;
The sheep and lambs of Jesus' fold
Are purchased with His blood."

Jesus taught the people many things on the hill beside the lake, and so the day passed and the evening was coming on; then Jesus knew that the people wanted food; He knows everything; He knows whether your soul wants a little word to tell you something precious about Himself, or whether you are hungry and want something to eat; He remembers your body as well as your soul. When He had said to the dead child, “Maid, arise," He remembered that she would be hungry; and He told her parents to give her something to eat.

Out on that hill there was nothing to eat; there was nothing, there but grass; that would have done very well for real sheep, but it would not do for the poor people who were like sheep. The hill where Jesus stood was on the far side of the lake, away from all the towns, and it would have needed more food than any little town could produce to feed all those thousands of people; for we are told that "the number of men was about five thousand beside women and children," and the children wanted some food as well as the big people.

What could be done?

Jesus knew what to do. He called Philip, one of the twelve who followed Him always, and said to him, "Whence shall we buy bread that these may eat?" Jesus did not ask Philip this question that He might get Philip's advice. Jesus was the Lord of heaven and earth, the One who could do whatsoever He pleased in heaven and in earth, in the sea and in all places. Jesus asked this question to “prove” Philip, that is, to make known what was in Philip's heart. "This he said to prove him, but he himself knew what he would do."

I think it would have been nice to have heard Philip say, “Lord, I do not know, but Thou knowest." Instead of this, Philip began, as people say, to use his senses, and his senses could only show him the difficulty. “Philip answered him, Two hundred pennyworth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one of them may take a little." Our senses never show Jesus; faith always shows Jesus.

Then Andrew spoke; he said, "There is a lad here which hath five barley loaves and two small fishes; but what are they among so many?" Why, they would seem like nothing; they would not have been enough even for the twelve disciples, for the loaves of Palestine were not like our great half-quartern loaves, but more like round flat cakes, about the size of two muffins, or two penny rolls.

All this time Jesus knew what He Himself would do. In every difficulty and every need Jesus knows what He would do if He were asked and trusted. Jesus knew all the time that the lad was there, and that he had the five loaves and two fishes. Of course you are not surprised to hear this, for you know that Jesus was God, though in the form of man, and could see every one among those thousands, even the lad who was one of the “children," He could see what was in the lad's hand, or in the lad's basket, or in the lad's heart. I wonder what the lad felt when he found himself called; he had never guessed, when he set out with the crowd to see Jesus, that he would be so seen and so used of Him. We are not told whether he was brought to Jesus to give the loaves to Him, or whether the disciples took the five loaves and two fishes; but I think there must have been some little spark of faith in the lad's heart, to make him willing to give up all the food he had in that lonely place.

Whatever may have been in his heart before the wonderful feast, I am sure great gladness was there afterward. Whenever we find that the Lord has used us, even in a small way, as He used this little lad, it puts great wonder and gladness into our hearts. We may have to give up something for a moment, at first, just as the lad had to give up his loaves and his fishes, but we shall have much more gladness in our hearts afterward than any loaves and fishes could put there.

When Jesus had heard what Andrew had to say, He said, “Make the men sit down."

There was much grass in the place, and that was a very good thing, for so many people must have covered a very large space when they were sitting. The disciples obeyed, and made the people sit down; the people obeyed, and sat down. If there had been one there who would not obey, who said, “I see no use in sitting down; those five little loaves, those two little fishes, will never be enough for me to have any"—how foolish he would have been! or if there had been one there who did not like to sit down with the rest and eat of the lad's simple food, how foolish he would have been; he must have gone empty away, for "He filleth the hungry with good things, but the rich he hath sent empty away." None who obeyed, none who trusted the word of Jesus, were sent empty away.

It is very difficult to think all at once of five thousand men besides women and children; the people sat down in rows of fifty (perhaps you have seen fifty people all at once, what a long row fifty in a class would be! and to make the five thousand men there must have been a hundred long rows of fifty); then there were the women and children, who of course were ready to sit down and have some of the food. Would not you have been, if you had been hours on the hill top, in the clear fresh air, with nothing to eat?

Jesus took the loaves, and when He had given thanks, He distributed to the disciples.

Ah; if ever you are about to make such a sad mistake as to run to the table and begin to eat your food without giving thanks, remember these words, "when he had given thanks." Jesus gave thanks to His Father in the name of all those thousands; I wonder how many other thanks went up with the thanks of Jesus.

When Jesus had given thanks, He began to give the bread and fish to the disciples to carry to the people. You know one disciple could have carried all, as it was, for the lad had carried it all, before it was given to Jesus, but in the hand of Jesus these five little loaves and two small fish became, by His divine power, so much, that every one of the disciples went away with his hands filled; soon, however, his hands were empty, for it would not take even one of the rows of fifty hungry people to eat up all that one disciple could carry, so the disciple would go back to Jesus and get his hands filled again with as much as he could carry. Again and again the disciples came back. Again and again the hungry people received bread and fish; Jesus was always ready to give more and more; His love and His power kept on giving and giving as much as they wished for. At last they had all had enough. All those thousands of people were quite satisfied. For just as God cures quite, God satisfies quite. God does everything quite; not half.

And when God has satisfied us, He still has more left in His wonderful Resources; you know now what this word Resources, means. After all the thousands of people had eaten enough, Jesus said, “Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost." Though Jesus, by His will, could make that little bit of bread into enough for thousands, He would not allow any to be lost; He would not waste the bread which it required the power of God to make; and none will waste bread, however plentiful it may seem to them, or however easily come by, if they have rightly thanked God for it, and remember that it was His power and goodness which gave it to them. Who could have thought, when the five barley loaves and the two small fishes were taken to feed the thousands of people, that there would have been anything left? Who could have expected to have “filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves which remained over and above unto them that had eaten"?

No one. Not one, even of the disciples, could have thought of such a thing, but God is able to do for us " exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think," and all those thousands of people had eaten at the very hand of God, the Savior Jesus, the One to whom it was said, "Thy throne, O God, is forever and ever."

“Christ could not be hid—for the multitude fed
Would tell 'twas His bounty procured for them bread;
No hand could have multiplied thus thousand fold
But His, who provided the manna of old."

The wonderful feast was over now; the people were filled with astonishment, and were delighted to find themselves fed so easily; so they tried to come, and by force, make Jesus their king. But Jesus could not be King over a sinful people; He had come to be the Savior then; He had come to “minister" (and how He had ministered in tender compassion that day to the souls and bodies of those thousands!) and "to give his life a ransom for many." The people needed a Savior, not a king. Jesus knew this, and went away from their midst.

Jesus has died now, He is not going to be a Savior. He is a Savior, the only Savior. Another day He will be seen coming forth out of heaven as “King of kings and Lord of lords." No men will make Him a King, He is a King already by His own right.

“He shall come down like showers
Upon the new-mown grass;

And joy and hope like flowers,

Spring up where He doth pass.

Before Him on the mountains,

Shall peace, the herald, go;

And righteousness in fountains,

From hill to valley flow.

Kings shall fall down before Him,

And gold and incense bring;

All nations shall adore Him,

His praise all people sing;

Outstretch'd His wide dominion,

O'er river, sea, and shore,

Far as the eagle's pinion,

Or dove's light wing can soar."

This story is ended now, and perhaps you would have liked to hear more about the little lad. Perhaps you are surprised that, though the name of this chapter is "The Lad Here," so little is said about the lad. Well, this is the reason: God chooses to use those about whom little can be said. If you look again at the verses which head this chapter, you will see what sort of people and things God uses; God does not look about for useful things, He has everything. A person might be looking about for some one to help him, and he might say, I want a strong person, for I am weak. God uses weak people, for He is strong. Or you might want some one to help you, and you might say, I want a wise person, for I am a poor, ignorant, foolish child. God uses foolish things, for He is wise; Christ Jesus is the wisdom spoken of in Prov. 8 He is also called “the wisdom of God," and God is called the "only wise." God uses things that are despised, for He does not want glory. He is the Lord of glory, yet, in His grace, He accepts the glory brought to His name by His own.

Jesus said of those to whom He gave eternal life, “I am, glorified in them." How may a child bring glory to the great God of heaven and earth? By being like a little stream. A clear little stream reflects the glory of the sun. Its waters shine, not with anything that is in them; if what belongs to the stream rises up, all the shining is spoiled. The glory of the sun is not seen if what is in the stream is seen.

It is wonderful to remember those words of Jesus, “I am glorified in them." This is very little seen as yet; yet every little, the shining of the tiniest stream, is seen by God now, and by-and-by Christ shall "come to be glorified in his saints, and to be admired in all them that believe." Every believer will then reflect only Christ, “We shall be like him."

A stream does nothing wonderful, it goes simply on its way; sometimes those who are used of the Lord are used unconsciously, this is the most usual and often the sweetest way for a child. The lad who was used to bring the food for that wonderful feast did not know what was going to happen. Did you ever notice the only one word said about the Lad? It is the word Here, “A Lad Here." What does ‘here' mean?

If some one says, Where is my book? and you answer, It is here, you mean it is close by; not upstairs in another room, but close by; and the lad was close by, he was near. Can we be near now? Christ is up in heaven; yet we can be near. He says, "Abide in me." How near that is!

“Blest Savior! ever at my side,
How loving Thou must be!
From Thy bright home in heaven to watch
A little child like me.

Thy beautiful and shining face
I see not, though Thou'rt near;
Nor can I Thy soft gentle voice
In earthly accents hear.

Yet all I need Thou knowest it,
And givest good to me;
And when I sleep Thou sleepest not,
But watchest tenderly."

Can you understand this? No, you cannot understand it, and neither can I; you can only believe it. "Be not afraid, only believe." Then you will know this, though you cannot explain it.

I will tell you a story of a little child who was used unconsciously, that is, without guessing at all that he was being used; he was just going on his way. In the same place where this child lived, in a cottage near the sea shore, there lived a young woman. She was one who was content with herself; she lived quietly, she did no one any harm, she just got up day by day, ate her food, attended to her business, and at night she slept. An old horse could do as much as that—eat, sleep, and take care of himself—but as this was a woman and not a horse, she had what the horse had not, that is a conscience, and God saw that this woman's conscience, which seemed so fast asleep, needed a great blow so that light might come in; for besides a conscience she had a never-dying soul, and God, who knows all that is going to happen, knew that this woman had only a few months more to live in that pleasant home by the sea; and then, what would become of her never-dying soul?

And who was to give the needed blow to that woman's conscience? What mighty thing would God use?

Ah! God uses weak things; the little child, all unconsciously, was to touch the conscience of that thoughtless woman. She was walking along, close by the sea, early one fine summer's morning, when she saw, coming towards her, two dear little children with their nurse; they had come out to have a dip in the sea. One was a little boy, he did not notice the woman, but just as she came near he stopped; he was a very little child, and he took hold of his nurse's dress to stop her.

"Oh nurse," he said, "I came out in such a hurry, and I have forgotten to pray!" Immediately then he knelt down on the sand, and spoke a few simple words of prayer to God.

This was the blow that struck this woman's conscience.

“Here is a babe rebuking me," she said within herself. "I'm content to go on, day by day, without prayer, and he cannot go on to take his morning dip when he remembers he has come out without praying!"

The woman watched these little children and their nurse all the time they were bathing; she felt as if she loved the little child who had spoken to her by his simple “fear of the Lord." I think, too, that she saw nothing in his ways with his nurse, or with the other little one, to contradict the happy thoughts she had about him. She went home not content with herself, she sought and found the Savior; and before those few months left of her life had passed away, she was ready "to depart and be with Christ, which is far better."

Sometimes the simple words and loving desire of a little child are used of the Lord.

There was a little girl, I do not know her name, but she lived with her parents in India. A Hindoo servant used to carry her about, and when she grew a little older, used to lead or follow her in her walks. Many of the brown Hindoo servants are very loving to the little white children they take care of. I hope the little white children, who so often have heard of the Savior Jesus, are kind and loving to the poor Hindoos, who perhaps know nothing about Him, for how shall they, or any ignorant person, feel in their hearts a longing to know this Jesus unless they see those who do know Him, like that-

“Gentle Jesus meek and mild"?

This Hindoo servant's name was Sammy, he loved his little mistress much. One day, when Sammy and the little girl were out walking, they came to a funny little house in which was an image. Sammy stopped and made several bows before the door. “Why do you do that?" said the little girl.

“Oh, missy," replied the poor Hindoo, "that my god."

“Your god, Sammy," said the child; "that image your god! why, your god cannot see, cannot hear, cannot move, cannot think, cannot feel; your god is only a stone! My God can see and hear everything."

After this the little girl often spoke to Sammy, in her childish way, about "her God," until the time arrived when she was to leave India, for English children cannot often remain in that hot country after they are six years old; the climate would make them weak, and unable to learn and do all the things that are expected of English children. All the family were going away from India, and poor Sammy would lose his place; he was very sorry, for he loved the little child, though she had often told him how sinful he was, and how useless it was to trust in his gods, the idols.

“What shall I do," he said, "when you go away to England? I shall have no home, and no one to love me, for I have no father and mother." “O Sammy," answered the child, "my God will love you, He will be your father and mother." Sammy's heart was melted.

“I want to love Him," he said, with tears in his eyes.

Then the little girl carefully taught the poor Hindoo some of the verses she knew herself, and the Lord used the precious words, so simply taught; in time, Sammy became a true Christian.

Perhaps the little girl never knew it, but her simple words and loving wishes and ways had been used to begin “a good work" in the precious soul of the poor Hindoo.

Another, and a very special thing, was once used in a little girl; it was a feeling, a feeling which we all need to know more of. It was sorrow at the sight of sin.

Fanny was the child of a happy home; there she had learned many sweet lessons, and had been kept from seeing or hearing of those dark clouds of evil which in this sad world often reach even a child, perhaps some child like Abijah, who yet is kept by God, and kept for God amidst the darkness.

Fanny, in her home, had learned the love and the fear of God, she had also learned to be simple concerning evil; that is, she knew little about evil except this one thing, that it grieved the heart of God. When God saw man's sin in the days of Noah, "It grieved him at his heart." Did you ever think of this?

When Fanny was ten years old, she was, for some reason, sent away from her home to school; the lady who kept the school was a kind Christian person. Fanny was happy; but on Sunday morning, while walking through the streets of the new town where she had gone to school, she saw a sight which was quite a surprise to the little home-child; she saw a woman, sitting at the corner of the street, selling apples, and children coming to that corner to buy apples.

What a sad sight, people buying and selling on the Lord's day!

Perhaps many children had passed the apple-woman at the corner; some may have gone on and taken no notice; some may have said, “I am not like those naughty children who buy apples on Sunday;" some may have wished for the apples. None of these thoughts were in Fanny's mind, neither was she indifferent to the sight, the more she thought about it the more sad it made her; she was sad about the woman who sold, and she was sad about the children who came to buy.

The kind lady, who had the care of Fanny, noticed her sad face; she thought that perhaps the little girl was longing for her own home, and her own Mamma on this first Sunday away, as many little girls and little boys have longed; so she called Fanny to her side to have a little talk with her. But she found that Fanny was not then thinking about her home. What was it that made her so sad?

"Oh," said Fanny at last, bursting into tears, "I don't think that poor woman can know how she grieves the Lord by selling her apples on a Sunday." Yes, this was the cause of Fanny's sad face. The lady tried to comfort Fanny, and then she went to see the apple-woman, The story of the child's grief touched the poor woman's conscience, and that sad sight at the corner was never seen again.

How happy to be, even while a child, used of the Lord; how wonderful that He, of whom we read, "By the word of the Lord were the heavens made, and all the host of them by the breath of his mouth," should yet condescend to use such weak, such poor, such unwise things as children. We may not know of it down here, but perhaps, among the many bright surprises that will greet the child of God in heaven, will be the discovery of some time when, in weakness and simplicity, he was “used of the Lord."

A feeble thing—held in His mighty hand,

Who call'd the world to Be at His command;

Unlearn'd, unwise, may yet His wisdom show,

And publish that which angels long to know.

Thus babes, unconsciously at times, fulfill

His purposes, who needs not human skill;

And amid lowliest things we oftenest taste

Those heavenly droppings which refresh the waste.

A stream unshadow'd may reflect the sun,

The ocean shows no more-there is but one;
Small grains are crush'd to powder for the bread

By which the hungry multitudes are fed.

The little sparrow on the housetop sings,

E'en by its worthlessness, of heavenly things;

And he who simply fills his daily round,

May yet a heavenly messenger be found.

Th' accepted servant he who answers-here;

The little lad was used when he was near,

For the five loaves, and two small fish suffice

As channels for heaven's infinite supplies.

The One who all things out of nothing made,

Will have, in things despised, His power display'd;

And He who stoop'd a servant's form to take,

Accepts the cup of water given-for His sake.

Chapter 12: The Child of the Shunammite (Or, a Mother's Faith)

WHAT I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." (John 13:7.)

A Mother's Faith! earth cannot let it,

That precious faith, nor heaven forget it;

Oh, happy child! who first hears what God saith,

Through the sweet whispers of a Mother's Faith.

2 Kings 4:8-37.

2KI 4:8-37THE home of the Shunammite's child was, like little Samuel's, in a very beautiful part of the beautiful land of Israel; it was in the plain of Esdraelon or Jezreel. All the loveliest flowers of the land grew there in abundance: the rich crimson lily, the ever-welcome rose, the delicate, trailing hyssop, and numbers of little flowers, whose names I cannot tell you, brightened and beautified the soft grass of the plain; and perhaps this little Shunem child loved the flowers around his home, just as you delight in the daisies, the primroses, and the violets of your own lanes and woods. Towering far above the flowers, were the beautiful trees of the land; the orange, with its sweet-scented, wax-like blossoms, its dark, shining leaves and golden fruit; the tree of soft rounded masses of foliage and little green olives, a well-known tree, even in countries where it has not been seen. For what child has not read of the olive-tree in scripture? The wholesome lime; the lemon-tree, with its pale yellow fruit; the pomegranate, so well known to Israelites; the sycamore, that tree that loves the heat of an eastern sun, yet spreads giant branches to shelter the traveler, and feeds him, too, with its plentiful crops of figs—all these, and perhaps many more, were daily sights to the child of Shunem.

No wonder that, possessed of land in so fruitful a spot, the father had grown rich and the mother was reckoned "a great woman;" yet, at one time, before the little son was born, she had been a lonely woman; for you know that no number of brilliant flowers or quantity of sweet fruit would do instead of love for your heart; and while the father was busy among his crops and his gardens, she wanted some one to talk to her and keep her company at home. Sometimes she had a visitor, an honored visitor: it was Elisha. The man of grace and power went into the Shunammite's house to eat bread as often as he passed by; he could well understand the need of the great woman's heart, for it was about a year since Elijah's wonderful ascent to heaven, and Elisha must have known what it was to feel lonely many times during that year, for his servant Gehazi was not one with whom he could talk as Elijah had talked with him.

Elisha's visits were blessed times for the great woman; she was giving the traveler a welcome and some food, and she was getting something for her heart. The traveler did not tell who he was, but his ways showed it; this is the right thing always. "Let another man praise thee and not thine own mouth; a stranger, and not thine own lips." It is not one who tells us that he is better or wiser than others that we shall think most of, but one whose ways show wisdom and goodness. "Even a child is known by his doings." The Shunammite does not say, "The stranger has told me;" she says, “Behold now, I perceive that this is an holy man of God which passeth by us continually." "I perceive" means, I have found out. Elisha's words, while he partook of the food provided for him, and all his behavior gave this beautiful testimony, “A holy man of God."

Something beautiful is seen in the woman too. When she finds out that her visitor is a holy man of God, she wants to do more for him. Ah! Elisha was not treated everywhere as at Bethel; at Shunem, a little room was made for the man of God, and furniture was put into it—a bed and a table, and a stool and a candlestick. Elisha was pleased when he saw the room which had been made ready for him. The Shunammite was “a great woman," and she could do all this for Elisha, but Elisha was greater than the woman, because he was the man of God, and so he could do something for her. He sent Gehazi, his servant, to ask her what she would like, what she wanted. What could this woman want? She had a rich husband, plenty of friends, abundance of good things from fields and gardens and vineyards and oliveyards; what could she ask for? She did not ask for anything. But God knew what was wanted to make that rich home much richer; what precious gift would repay the woman for her care of Elisha: God gave her a little son.

Does not this show us what God means a child to be in his home and to his mother? Such a comfort, such a bright sunbeam, such a joy to her heart!

I am sure the Shunammite's child got a great deal of love, and a great deal of care must have been spent on him before the day came when he was grown and able to go out, as a little son would so delight to do, to his father and the reapers.

How old are you? I do not know, but you know. If you are only as much as five years old somebody has had to love you and dress you and feed you and care for you, in all sorts of ways, for one thousand eight hundred and twenty-six days. Just think of that! How ready you ought to be to do whatever little things you can for others in return!

I think the mother was learning a lesson as well as getting a gift; this gift made her a needy woman instead of a great woman. Perhaps that surprises you. All the care and love she gave her little son taught her that she had something now so very precious and tender and wonderful that she could not take care of it all by herself, but must trust it to God, and so she learned, a trust and dependence on God which she had never felt before. This story, as you will guess by the title, tells more about what the mother felt than what the child felt, yet I have always found children love this story of the little boy among the reapers, so I would not finish my book without it, and if you got a letter or a book which spoke about your mother, I am sure you would all like to read about her, so I think you will like to read about the Shunammite mother, and may learn, while reading about a mother, something which you could not learn from reading only about a child.

How lovely the corn fields must have looked in the brilliant light of that warm land of Israel! Harvest was a very joyful time there, as it is in all countries where the produce of the earth is the chief wealth of the inhabitants. What a bright, busy, pleasant day the master and the reapers expected in that field of Shunem! Very likely, too, the child was as happy and, in his way, as busy as any of them, but “the grass withereth, the flower fadeth."

“Our life is like the grass,
Or like the morning flower:
If one sharp blast sweep o'er the field,
It withers in an hour."

This little verse speaks about a sharp blast; it is the sharp blast, the cold wind, the "chilly autumn hours” that wither our little English blossoms, but in the land of Israel, the hot, dry wind from the east was much more to be dreaded than any cold wind; under its burning touch flowers and corn soon bowed their dying heads, and no little child could have resisted it in its force; so we read in Psa. 103:15, 16, "As for man, his days are as grass; as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth, for the wind passeth over it and it is gone, and the place thereof shall know it no more."

The child stood with his father among the reapers and the corn and the flowers, and perhaps, in the midst of his busy work, the father little thought how soon the most precious among his good things was to droop its head, like the tenderest little flower when touched by the reaper's sickle; but so it was.

Suddenly, the child called to his father; he was in pain, all he could say was, “My head, my head." The heat of the sun had most likely struck upon his head.

Such things will happen now, and in other countries besides the land of Israel. I knew a little girl once; such a precious child little Mabel was, so many to love her and care for her, so full of life she seemed, with such bright eyes and shining curls and round rosy cheeks; limbs so full of vigor. Could she be cut down in a moment, like the Shunammite's child? Yes; there came a bright hot day, one of those days that do so delight the hearts of children and grown people, and Mabel was out, as children love to be, in the bright sunshine; but the fierce heat struck her, and before night she lay like a little faded flower, and she never went out again, for before the next bright day came, she was dead. Oh, how soon a child is gone! Gone, from its father and mother, its brothers and sisters; pile from its happy home, gone from those lanes and fields where it gathered sweet flowers, gone from the shining of the sun and the bright blue sky! What would become of the child thus gone, but that—

"There's a Friend for little children
Above the bright blue sky:
A Friend who never changeth,
Whose love can never die.

There's a Home for little children
Above the bright blue sky,
Where Jesus reigns in glory,
A home of peace and joy."

Do you know this Friend? Have you learned the heart of Jesus? If not, you are not ready to see the face of Jesus. You could not love the home of Jesus. We must know Jesus as our Savior, our own Savior, who has put away our sins, before we can go to the home above the sky. Before we read, in Psa. 103, the sad verses about the flowers, we read what has been done for all who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, "As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us." Peter tells us how it was done. Speaking of the Lord Jesus Christ he says, “Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree. By whose stripes ye were healed."

After that one sad cry, "My head, my head," the little child of Shunem could not enjoy the field or the reapers, he could not look at anything, he could not say anything, he could not run about, he could not even run home to his mother, where a sick child needs so much to be. The father said to a lad, “Carry him to his mother."

Oh, what a sad surprise for the poor mother! while she was busy indoors; perhaps, like Hannah, making a little coat for her son—for every little child wants his own mother to make his own little coats—and certainly, like Hannah, and like many a mother since, thinking about the little child who was away. What a sad surprise to see him carried back by the lad! She had thought of him as running by his father's side, or perhaps following close upon the reapers and gathering out some bright flowers that had no business among the corn, but now she saw him lying in the lad's arms, so sick, almost dying. The rest is all told in one little half verse, but what a change that half verse made to the house and the mother! “he sat on her knees till noon, and then died."

Then came out the lesson which the mother had learned: God gave me this little son, I have done what I could for him, but not for one of all the hundreds of days he has been with me could I keep him alive, and now I cannot do anything at all more for him; I cannot do even a little part, as I have done, I must give him quite up to the care of God, and leave him and go and find the man of God. So she went up to that little chamber which had been made for Elisha, and there on the bed which she had prepared for the man of God she laid the little dead child.

It was of no use for her to stay there; she had done all she could for him while he sat on her knees, but after he was dead she could do nothing more, so she shut the door upon him and went out.

Then one of the men had to be called away from his busy work in the field, and the ass had to be saddled, and the father, who did not know what had happened at "noon," wondered very much what it was all about, but the mother did not tell all then, she only said, "It shall be well." Perhaps she knew that the father could not have attended to his work among the reapers, if he had known how the little son lay upon the prophet's bed; perhaps also her heart was too much set upon telling the man of God to tell any one else first. She had several miles to go from Shunem to Carmel, a journey that might take her, even on a swift eastern donkey, about two hours; it would seem a long time to leave the child upon that lonely bed in the little chamber; so she said to the servant, "Drive and go forward, slack not thy riding for me, except I bid thee."

She had to ride all across the beautiful plain of Jezreel before she came under the shadow of mount Carmel, and before she had quite reached the end of her journey Elisha saw her. He sent Gehazi to ask, “Is it well with thee? Is it well with thy husband? Is it well with the child? "

Is it not wonderful, when we know that the little son was already lying dead upon the prophet's bed, that she could answer to all the three questions, “It is well." At last she reached Elisha; only he could help her, so she says, "I will not leave thee."

Elisha was not going to send her away. Grace never sends away the needy. We may remember how Jesus, who was far beyond Elisha, God's Messenger of grace and power, said, “Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out."

Gehazi was sent on in front; he made haste and arrived first at Shunem, but when he went into the prophet's chamber, though he laid the prophet's staff, as he had been told to do, upon the face of the child, "there was neither voice nor hearing," so he went back and met the prophet and the mother and said, "The child is not awaked."

Elisha did not know yet what had happened to the child, he only knew that the mother's heart was in grief about her little son; but as soon as he got into the house, "behold the child was dead and laid upon his bed; he went in therefore and shut the door upon them twain and prayed unto the Lord. And he went up and lay upon the child, and put his mouth upon his mouth, and his eyes upon his eyes, and his hands upon his hands: and he stretched himself upon the child; and the flesh of the child waxed warm."

Elisha prayed and labored and waited God's time; after he had reached the place where the dead child was we are told of nine things that he did, before the flesh of the child waxed warm. If you look at the story of the little girl in Luke 8:49-56, or of the widow's son in Luke 7:11-15, or of Lazarus in John 11, you will see how immediately the Lord Jesus raised the dead, for He was God, but Elisha was only a man of God.

A person who is dead is quite, quite cold; how very glad the kind prophet must have been when he felt the flesh of that mother's dear little-child getting warm; still, he could not take him up or give him back to his mother until God made known to him that the right time was come. Just when the child's flesh was getting warm, Elisha had to leave him and walk to and fro in the house, for it was not the power of Elisha, but only the power of God which could send the child's spirit back into him again. I dare say much prayer and desire was in the prophet's heart then, and faith and hope too; and all these things were, no doubt, in the mother's heart. At last, the second time, Elisha saw what made him very glad, “The child opened his eyes." Then Elisha told Gehazi to call the Shunammite; I am sure she was waiting and ready to come, and when she was come Elisha said, “Take up thy son."

“Then she went in, and fell at his feet, and bowed herself to the ground, and took up her son, and went out."

The little son lived many years after that. It was about two years later that Elisha again visited Shunem, and however welcome he may have been before, he must have been far more so now, and perhaps, during the two years, he may have paid many visits to that mother and her child of which we are not told; this time he had bad news for her. A famine was coming upon the land, even the fruitful plain of Jezreel was to be for a time barren; there was to be no more reaping or gathering of summer fruits, and the Shunammite was to go and live wherever she could. So she went a great journey, of about seventy miles, until she reached the land of the Philistines, and there she lived for seven years. Of course she took the little son with her; and if ever the need of that famine time seemed to shut out all hope of food, she could take comfort by looking at the child, now growing in strength of boyhood, though once so still in death, and she could teach him to trust that God who had given him life, and life back again from death, could also give the food which that life needed, for "Is not the life more than meat I"

How much this child of the Shunammite owed to his mother's faith! What grief, what labors on his behalf, her faith carried her through! Children often little know how much they owe to a mother's faith; what dangers they have been kept from or perhaps saved out of in answer to her prayers; what lessons of faith they have learned from seeing hers; what earnest words the mother has spoken too, how carefully she has stored the mind of the little one with the words of holy scripture. Many, who have grown up to be useful Christian men can remember a mother's first lessons.

There was once a little boy who, like many other little boys, was fond of sitting with his mother by the fireside, during the long winter evenings. Sometimes, if you were sitting beside the fire you would have nothing to look at but the bright red coals; this little boy had wonderful pictures in front of him, for the chimney piece was covered with tiles, and on each tile was a picture from some Bible story; so, as he sat there, looking at the tiles, his mother taught him many of the most beautiful Stories from the Old and New Testaments. I think though, that a man's drawing on a tile must have been but a poor representation of the Garden of Eden, or of Joseph and his brethren, or of King "Solomon in all his glory;" and it must have needed a great many of the mother's words as well, to give the child any right idea of these things; but he much enjoyed his fireside lessons, and perhaps it was the remembrance of them, and of the love he had learned when a little boy that made him, after he grew up to be a man (well known as Dr. Doddridge), write sweet hymns about the Lord's love to the children. I have put one here for you, and though you may have read it before, you will like to read it again, now that you have heard about the little boy by the fireside.

“See Israel's gentle Shepherd stands,
With all engaging charms;
Hark! how He calls the tender lambs,
And folds them in His arms.

Permit them to approach, He cries,
Nor scorn their humble name;
For 'twas to bless such souls as these,
The Lord of glory came."

Some of you have, I dare say, heard of Alfred the Great, who reigned over England a thousand years ago. He also owed much to a mother's first lessons. At that time, very few English people could read, and though they sometimes came together to hear a part of the scriptures read, the reading was perfectly useless to them, for it was in Latin, a language which very few of them understood. Very likely, you would not learn much from a chapter read to you in Latin. King Alfred earnestly desired the good of his people, and he knew that what they most needed to make them wise and happy was the word of God, so, whenever he heard a very sweet verse read, he translated it into English, and wrote it into a book which he called his “Enchiridion." This seems a very strange name, but it means “hand book," and King Alfred called his book of Bible verses by that name because he always kept it at hand, and he never missed an opportunity of reading a part of this precious book to any one who came to speak to him. He was a truly useful king, for he made the people of England know a tittle, and desire to know more, of the holy scriptures; and the beginning of all the love for the word of God which was in his own heart was the lessons of his mother, who used, when he was a little boy, to read to him from a "hand book" of her own, written in Latin. This queen had three other sons, and she promised to give the beautiful "hand book" to whichever of them first learned Latin enough to read it himself. Alfred made haste to get on and gained the prize.

Many of you are still blessed with a mother's love, and the teachings of a mother's faith, but there may be a child who cannot see and hear, who can only remember, its mother; perhaps the dear mother has gone to be " ever with the Lord," and you remember a time, not so very long ago, when she spoke her last words to you. But a mother's faith can wonderfully surround a child, even after her arms can no longer encircle you, as they have so often done when, (like the little Shunammite child), you have sat upon her knees; though her words can no longer be heard by your ears they may be kept, like treasures, in your memory, and may sink deep into your heart and draw you to Him whose love is beyond a mother's, who will never leave you, never forget you.

I will tell you the story of a little boy who was left fatherless and motherless, but, it is written “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up."

Little James was born in a pleasant farm-house in America, a little brother was born at the same time as James, and the father of these two poor little boys died almost before they were old enough to know him; thus the poor mother was left a widow in a lonely place, with her infant twins. Oh, how much the poor widow needed comfort! a comfort which none among the few friends near her could give, for not one of them knew Him who is "the God of all comfort." The widow herself was as ignorant of the love of God as her poor neighbors; but God is the God of the widow and the Father of the fatherless; He, in great mercy, inclined this poor woman's heart, when she could get nothing from her neighbors, to turn to her Bible, and He who inclined her to turn to this precious book, also opened her heart, as once He opened Lydia's, so that she received the truth which she read.

She had a new desire now for her two dear little sons; it was not only that they might get, while in this world, all that a kind father's love would have provided for them had he lived, but that they might learn, from their childhood, to know Him, whom to know is life eternal, that they might from their hearts cry unto Him, " My Father, thou art the guide of my youth." She had nothing outward, except the precious book, to help her; there was no preaching of the gospel in that lonely place, and there did not appear to be, among the few people scattered around, a single one who cared to hear or to speak the precious name of Jesus.

Oh, what a dark place it must have been! How very good it was of God to let His own light shine down into the heart of this poor widow, that she might be comforted herself, and might teach her poor little sons But for that goodness, what would have become of the orphans who were soon to be motherless as well as fatherless?

While the mother read, she remembered something that she had long forgotten; it was sad indeed that she should have so long forgotten it; perhaps, had she not so long-forgotten it, she would not have been in such lonely sorrow.

What was it that this mother remembered?

She remembered the time when, herself a little child, she had learned at her mother's side the precious words which were now comforting her heart. Perhaps this widowed mother herself owed much to a mother's faith, and that made her specially anxious to instruct her own little boys.

As soon as they were at all old enough to understand, she taught them the texts which she herself had learned; she talked to them of Jesus, who loved the little children and took them up in His arms. Many, many times, too, she wept while she taught them, for a sad illness was coming quickly upon her, all she felt that her little boys must soon be left without her in that lonely place. They were then only five years old, and no wonder the mother wept when she thought of leaving them.

Soon, she became unable to teach them or to do anything for them, and a neighbor had to be called in to nurse her, and to take care of the house and the children. At last, that last day which some children know of, came to these poor little boys; they were lifted on to their mother's bed; she kissed them each, spoke her last few words of love to them, and then a few words of prayer for them to the Father of the fatherless. The children cried bitterly, as they were taken away from their mother's room, although they understood but little the greatness of their loss.

The mother then turned to the neighbor who had come to take care of her. "It is difficult," she said, "for a mother to be happy in leaving two such helpless babes without friends, in this lonely place, but I leave them in the hands of God, and I do believe He will take care of them, for He has said, ‘Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive, and let thy widows trust in me.'"

Very soon after this, the mother died; the pleasant farm was sold, and a poor widow who lived near took the children into her little house. I think the widow meant to be kind to the orphan children, but she could not speak to them, as their mother had done, of the love of Jesus, for she knew it not herself. One of the twins died soon after his mother, and little James was left quite alone; very lonely he was, he had nothing to do, no one to teach him, no one to remind him of his dear mother's loving words. A year passed away, and he seemed to be fast forgetting all her lessons and prayers, but God did not forget the mother's faith and the mother's prayers.

"Though all things change He changes not,
Nor e'er forgets though oft forgot;
His love's eternally the same,
And as unchanging as His name."

Just when the year had passed away, and little James was so sadly in need of a Christian friend, a young lady who was a child of God by faith in Christ Jesus, came to the place where the orphan boy lived. I cannot tell you what reason this young lady had for coming to that lonely place, but I think she was sent there of God in answer to the mother's faith. One afternoon, soon after her arrival, while out walking, she met a little boy sauntering along, looking very forlorn; his clothes were ragged, yet there was something in his appearance which at once drew the heart of this lady to him. “What is your name, little boy?" she said gently, as he came up to where she was.

“James," said the child.

“And where do you live?"

"Just on the edge of the wood; there, in that little log-house," replied James. “Can you see it? I live with Widow Parker."

"Yes," said the lady, “I see the little house, but is Widow Parker your Mother?"

“No," said the child; then, with a look of confiding love, he continued, "I had a mother last year, and she loved me, she used to love me and my brother John; she made us clothes, and taught us texts and hymns and pretty stories."

“But where is she now?" said the lady, very gently.

“Oh, ma'am," said poor little James, "do you see that graveyard, yonder?"

“Yes," said the lady.

“And the great maple-tree in the corner?"

“Yes; I see it."

“Well," continued little James, "my mother is dead, and now she lies under that tree, and so does my brother John. They were both put deep in the ground; they dug my mother's grave so deep, and I shall never see them again, never as long as I live. Would you like to come and see the graves, ma'am? "

The lady would not go then to see the graves, but she took the poor little boy by the hand and talked more with him. She found that he had forgotten nearly all his mother's lessons, but he still remembered how she had taught him and loved him. Before the walk was ended, the kind lady had invited little James to visit her at the house where she was staying, and he was glad enough to go. Many visits he paid to the kind young lady there; she gave him a little Testament, she taught him to read, and as she remained for more than a year in the place, she became a very dear friend to the orphan child; indeed, the lady never left little James; it was James himself who left that lonely place, as you will hear.

One whole summer James had received those lessons of love from his new friend, and in the winter that followed he began to fall ill, as his mother and his little brother had done. By the time the second summer came, he was quite a sick little boy; yet, in the fine warm weather, he was still glad to leave the little log-house and sit on some green bank near. He was now nearly eight years old, his friend used often to take him out, and one pleasant afternoon he begged that she would go with him to his mother's grave. For a little while he sat in silence under the shadow of the great maple-tree, presently he cut a small stick, then, going to little John's grave, he carefully measured its length; then, still without speaking, he returned, and sitting down beside the lady, put his thin little hand into hers. “Dear Miss S.," he said, “my grave will be only a little longer than John's. You cannot know," he continued, "how much I love you, and how much I thank you. Before you came here I knew nothing about heaven, or about dying, or about God, or the Savior Jesus; I love you very much. I feel sure that I shall not live long, but, dear Miss S., I am not afraid to die; I have learned that Jesus suffers little children to come to Him, and though I am such a sinful little boy, I know the Savior Jesus has loved me and saved me; and please, when I am gone, tell the other children to come and see the little graves, little John's and mine, and see how short they are, and tell, them I loved them, but that the Savior loves them much more."

Little James lived a few months after that; he had many sweet talks with the lady about the Savior, with whom he was so soon to be, and his kind friend was by his bedside when he died. Does not this little story show how God remembers the sad and the helpless? What love it was to send a friend to the child in that lonely place and what love to make known to him the love of Jesus the Savior, and to take the homeless orphan away from this dangerous world to His own blessed presence where is fullness of joy.

How rich were the corn-fields of Shunem that day!

How brilliant the beams of the sun!

How precious the fruit to be stored away!

And blithely the work must be done.

Oh! could there be aught 'mid those full golden ears,

More precious, more passing than they?

Must the joy of that harvest be mingled with tears?

Must clouds chase its brightness away?

The God who bestow'd the rich harvest that day

Has treasures unseen 'neath the sun,

And a light which He only 'mid clouds can display,

And surely His work must be done.

All silent, a touch of the bright summer ray

But lights on the child's fair young head;

And like flower of the field he lies fading away,

And his mother must watch till he's dead.

Cold, he lies stretch'd on the prophet's lone bed,

While she hastes her sad story to tell;

The cloud that scarce threaten'd has burst on her head,

And what can she say?-Is it well?

Is it well with thee, mother? and well with the child?

And well with the father?—Ah yes!

The flower lies faded and clouds may look wild,

But faith sees the light there to bless.

It is well with the mother; for while she has wept

Her heart has grown strong to endure;

It is well with the child; for the treasure love kept,

Faith yields to a care more secure.

Resurrection shall surely display in the light

What here amid clouds was begun,

And treasures eternal reveal to our sight

How blessed the work He has done.

The fields around Carmel are fruitful and sweet,

But Shunem a story can tell,

Far sweeter, of her who when childless could meet

The prophet and say, "It is well."

Chapter 13: The Little Children (Or, Who May Come?)

“SUFFER the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." (Mark 10:14.)

“His holy hands were softly laid
Upon each childish head;
Those little ones were not afraid,
His arms were open spread;
'Twas love they saw in His kind face,
They felt it was a happy place."

Matt. 19:13-15; Mark 10:13-16; LUKE 18:15-17.

MAT 19:13-15MAR 10:13-16LUK 18:15-17OUR stories are nearly all ended now: we have thought about the tenderness of Him who cares for every creature which His hand has formed, or His power called into being; we have thought of the grace of Him who came to make a safe way for us through this world of danger and darkness, of Christ the Faithful Servant, who came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give His life a ransom for many, who presents Himself now as the sinner's Friend, whose love unto death has opened a free course to the River of Mercy, and made known the blessed and wonderful truth, "God for us;" we have thought about the bright home above, that beautiful place which the Savior Jesus has gone to prepare, that blessed place where "there shall be no night," where "they need no candle, neither light of the sun," for the Lord God giveth them light, where there shall be no death, nor sorrow, nor crying, nor pain, where there is fullness of joy and pleasure for evermore. And now, Who is to be there? Who may come?

Who are they who are sure not to be sent away, but sure to be welcome?

Oh, who may come and share the love of that loving Savior? Who may come and have all their sins forgiven and washed away? Who may come and taste the love of the Father? Do you know who may come? Do you long to know who may come?

Read the question at the bottom of the name of this chapter, and then look up to the first line, and you will see the answer.

Who may come? The little children.

Yes; it is the little children who may come; it is the little children who are sure not to be sent away; it is the little children who are invited to share the love of Jesus, the loving Savior; it is the little children who are called to come and have all their sins forgiven and forever washed away in the precious blood of Christ; it is the little children not one of whom the Father wills should perish.

Is not this good news?

Is it not wonderful that the Lord Jesus should say, "Suffer the little children to come unto me,... for of such is the kingdom of heaven"? What a happy thing this is, for not One of you need wait a moment.

Not one of you need wait to grow into a little child. The first day you ever heard of Jesus, you were already a little child. It is now that Jesus wants you, it is now that Jesus loves you, it is now that He is holding out His arms to “gather the lambs and carry them in his bosom."

When Christ Jesus was on earth, how many times He took the little children up in His arms! Why was this?

It was because He loved them.

And why did He love the little children?

It was not because of anything the little children had or were; it was because of what Jesus had, and what Jesus was; Jesus had a kind, loving, gentle heart, and so He loved the children. Jesus was the Savior, and so He could take the children up in His arms and bless them.

Many people may love you, kind parents, kind brothers and sisters, a kind nurse, a kind grandmamma or grandpapa, kind uncles and aunts, cousins and friends; you may have numbers of people to love you, but none can love you as Jesus loves; and none of them can ever bless you as Jesus blessed the little children; only Jesus the Savior, who died for you, can bless you so as to make you happy forever. You know what it is to be happy, and you know what it is to be unhappy, to be sorry, or naughty, or in pain; but Jesus can bless a little child so as to make him happy forever; when Jesus takes a little child into His arms now He will never drop that child, He will carry him safely in to the bright home where there is no more sorrow, or crying, or pain; the child now will not feel the arms of Jesus as the children of Judaea felt them, but when he is being carried by Jesus he will know that he is quite, quite safe forever. Jesus says, “My sheep shall never perish. None is able to' pluck them out of my Father's hand."

Once, Jesus was walking near the river Jordan, that great river which runs all down the east side of the holy land for sixty-seven miles, from the lake of Galilee to the Dead Sea; His disciples were with him and a great many other people joined them, that they might hear "the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth." As they went along, some people, I think it must have been the mothers and fathers, brought little children into the midst of the company; the friends of these little children wanted Jesus to put His hands upon them and bless them. The disciples were angry, they did not think about the loving heart of Jesus, they only thought about the children, so they rebuked those who brought them; that is, they spoke angrily to them; they may have thought, of what use is it to bring these tiny children here; they will only interrupt; they cannot understand the teaching of Jesus? Or they may have said, You must take away these children, Jesus does not want them, they cannot learn anything.

Jesus knew, of course, all the sad mistakes that were in the hearts of the disciples; He knew also all the wishes that were in the hearts of the fathers and mothers, and besides that, He knew what was, in the hearts of the children. Sin was in the hearts of those children. Every child is “born in sin;" the very youngest child is a sinner, has sin in its heart. But Jesus was not displeased with the children, He did not send them away because they had sin in their hearts, for Jesus had come to save that which was lost; to die, and so to put away sin and be the sinner's Friend.

Jesus was “much displeased" with the disciples, He was quite shocked at them for trying to send away the little children. How could the disciples have been so much with Jesus and yet have known so little of His heart! Jesus was "much displeased and said, Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God," then Jesus turned to the children who were still waiting round Him. It was a good thing that they waited and did not run away from the angry looks and words of the disciples; they saw a beautiful face now, loving looks now cast upon them, and that was not all. Jesus put out His arms, those arms which still gather the little lambs, He took the children up in His arms, they were in His bosom then, He put His hands upon them, “those kind hands that did such good," and He blessed them.

Don't you think that some, even of those little children, when they saw the loving face and heard the gentle voice which spoke those sweet words of blessing could understand something, learn something? Don't you think they learned and understood that Jesus loved them? Oh, what a sweet lesson that was! What a sweet, holy, solemn lesson for you —Jesus loves me! Yes, and because He loved me, He gave Himself for me.

“Jesus loves me, He who died,
Heaven's gate to open wide;
He will wash away my sin,
Let a little child come in."

It is a sweet lesson—Jesus loved me—but it is a solemn lesson. Because I am a needy sinner Jesus could not show me His love without dying for me; and it is a holy lesson; though Jesus loves little children, He cannot carry them into the bright home all stained with sin; their sins must be washed away in His precious blood.

“And each believing soul is then
As spotless quite as He;
God's eye may search him through and through,
And yet no sin-stain see."

Another time Jesus called a little child; He set him in the midst of those to whom He was speaking, He wanted to use this little child as a picture or pattern; then, before Jesus went on with what He meant to say to His disciples, He took the child up into His arms. How very kind this was! How very gracious of the Lord Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of the Father, to take up a little child into His arms while He spoke about him! Perhaps the little child would have been tired or frightened, if he had been left standing in the midst while Jesus was saying all

He had to say to His disciples, but in the arms of Jesus no child feels tired or frightened. How glad that little child must have been that Jesus called him! and every little child now may say, Jesus calls me. Oh, what does Jesus call you for? It is that He may take you up in His arms and bless you. The little children who were brought by their friends, or the little child whom Jesus called were all alike blessed. Every child who comes to Jesus now is blessed. But Jesus did not only bless the child, that day, He used him as a pattern to make the disciples understand what He wanted to teach them.

The people who followed Jesus and the disciples were not little children, they were big people, and between the little children, who could be brought by their parents, and the disciples, there were people of many different ages. Some of you, perhaps, are grown beyond what could be called a little child, and you will want to hear what Jesus said for those who were not little children; for though not one need wait to grow into a little child, you soon grow too old to be called exactly a little child, though you may be still a child. Yet you want a place in the bright home, you need love, you need a Friend, you need the Savior just every bit as much as did the tiniest among the little children. What did Jesus say to those who were not quite little children He said to them, you must “become as little children." You must come like little children.

How do little children come?

They come without asking any questions.

What is a little child like?

A little child is not strong, or useful; it is weak and needy. A little child is not wise or learned, it is ignorant, it wants to be taught everything, it believes what it is taught. A little child cannot buy or gain things; it takes everything as a gift. A little child is simple. It cannot make a plan, as Jeroboam's wife did, to disguise itself, it shows itself just as it is; but with all this a little child is very sweet to those who love it, because it is so confiding, it is so ready to trust. It runs into its father's arms, or lies down in its mother's arms, and fears no evil.

No one can ever get into the place of safety and blessing except as a little child-weak, needy, useless, ignorant, poor, but trusting? And whom should we trust but Christ who said, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that believeth on me hath everlasting life."

There was once a very grand man, yet he learned that he must come as a little child; he was grander than a king, for he was an Emperor, he was also, as some people would say, a good man, for he did many right and kind things; he was kind to the thousands of people over whom he ruled, though, by the laws of Russia, for it is about an Emperor of Russia I am speaking, the Emperor may do whatever he chooses to any of his subjects. But this Emperor, Alexander I, had not used his power in a cruel manner, and among others was one very good thing which he had done; he had spent much money and taken much trouble to get a part of the Bible, namely, the Psalms and the New Testament, translated into Russian, and sold at a moderate price among the people, so that all might have copies of these precious scriptures, and might read them for themselves in a language which they understood. Before that time few poor Russians ever read the scriptures or knew anything of them, for, like the English in King Alfred's time, the poor, when they did come together, could only hear the priest read in the Slavonic language, which is a kind of ancient Russian, of which they scarcely understood anything.

Alexander II, who, but a short time ago, was so wickedly put to death, finished this good work, and now the whole scripture has been translated into Russian, and Russian bibles can be bought anywhere. Perhaps, while the Emperor Alexander I was busy with the New Testament, he read some such words as those which Jesus spoke while He held the little children in His arms, "Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." The Emperor knew what a little child was; not rich, like himself, but poor; not great, like an Emperor, but little; not wise, having done nothing to boast of. How unlike Alexander I was such a character! yet, one day when this Emperor was going to set off on a journey, and only a short time before his death, he said to a gentleman whom he much trusted, "Do you think that any person, however great he may be in this world, or however much good he may have tried to do, can be safe in trusting anything else for salvation but the perfect and all-sufficient atonement of Christ the Redeemer " The gentleman to whom the Emperor spoke was a true friend, and he knew the truth. He answered without hesitation, "Certainly not, sire." “Certainly not," replied the Emperor; "I have no other hope. The all-sufficient atonement of Christ is my only comfort." Was not the great Emperor becoming like a little child?

Now, perhaps you will like to hear the story of a little girl who was not at first, child as she was, quite willing to become like a little child. It is not only Emperors who find things in and around them to which they are inclined to cling. It needs the heat of the one only sun to melt a great snowdrift, but even one little snow-flake will not melt unless heat reach it in some way; so, nothing but the mighty power of God the Holy Spirit can make an Emperor or a child become as a little child. Martha had, in some respects, a very happy home; she had loving parents, several brothers and sisters, an attentive nurse, and plenty of good things, but one thing was wanting, and this is why I could not call Martha's quite a happy home. Martha was left without any teaching; her parents were satisfied with her, as she was, an affectionate cheerful little girl, and she was allowed to spend nearly her whole time in play and to do pretty much as she liked.

When Martha was ten years old, she went on a visit to an aunt who lived in a village some miles from her own home. Perhaps, as you have heard how Martha was brought up, you will not be surprised to hear that the aunt found the little visitor rather troublesome. At ten years of age she might have known how to be a pleasure to those whom she visited, but she was, instead of this, very willful, and when she could not have her own way, very angry. Yet all this time Martha had a very good opinion of herself, as you will hear. Perhaps she was so accustomed to be willful, and had been so little taught, that she did not know how sinful self-will is; very likely also pride, which is in every human heart, made her blind to her own faults, and like those who looked into the dark cellar I told you of in Ishmael's story, Martha fancied she saw beautiful things in her own dark heart. But God, who is the God of all grace, was going to be very gracious to this little girl. How gracious it is of God when He stops a dark child or a pride-blinded child, and sends light into their hearts so as to make them see themselves as they really are! If it was a dark evening, what should you want? A lamp. The word of God was the lamp which shone in the dark evening of Martha's life, for it was the evening of her life though she never guessed it, and though she was only ten years old.

The aunt, finding Martha so very troublesome and so very ignorant, sent her to the house of a respectable woman near who taught a few children. Martha went to the school full of pride; she was much better dressed than her fellow-scholars, for her friends were able to provide her with good clothes; but had Martha any reason to be proud of this? Whatever she wore she had received it. I wonder how such an ignorant little girl would have been dressed had she been left to provide for herself; and if she were dressed as finely as the Queen it need not have 'made her proud.

“What if we wear the richest vest
Peacocks and flies are better dress'd."

And—

"Why should our garments, made to hide
Our parents' shame, provoke our pride,
When the poor sheep and silk-worm wore
That very clothing long before”

I wonder whether vain little people ever remember that, at their best, they are walking about in Mr. Sheep's old coat, or the cast-off curtains and coverings of Mrs. Silkworm's bed

Towards the end of the lessons, a lady came in to see the little scholars. She sat down among them and began to tell the story of Adam and Eve; she spoke of the beginning of sin in the garden of Eden, and then she went on to say that all hearts are sinful; she then told the children that they were all sinful. Martha, poor neglected Martha, had never before heard this story which is so well known to most children of half her age; she felt very angry when the lady said that all the children were alike, that all were sinners. Martha, as she had never been to school before, did not know how she ought to behave, so she left her place and, with a flushed angry face, going forward towards the lady, she said, "You do not know me. At home they all call me a dear good child. You must not call me a sinner, for my heart is good, I know it is."

The lady answered the angry child quietly, “God, who made us, knows our hearts better than we do. Let us see what the Bible says in Rom. 3:23." The lady opened her Bible and handed it to Martha; seeing a big girl of ten years old she never supposed but that she would be able to read it, but Martha had to call one of the poorer children, whom she despised, to her help, and so she read, "All have sinned and come short of the glory of God." Martha was, as you will have seen, a very spoiled, ignorant, and foolish little girl, but now she was, in one thing, wiser than many. As soon as she had read the words from the Bible she believed them, as God's own word, which no one could alter or contradict. She had been foolish enough to contradict the lady, but now she could say nothing; her mouth was "stopped," according to Rom. 3:19, she found herself "guilty before God." She began to cry, all her goodness seemed gone away from her, she knew not what to do. The lady took the poor little girl upon her lap and talked kindly to her about the love of Jesus the Savior, and taught her these words, “The blood of Jesus Christ... cleanseth us from all sin."

When next the lady came to the school she was pleased to find that Martha repeated the verses thoughtfully, and also that her behavior was better; she was obedient, and stood or sat wherever she was told. One day, Martha saw a hymn-book in the lady's hand; she said she should very much like to have one, and had money to buy one.

“But you could not read it," said the lady.

“I could spell a verse, over and over," said Martha, "and so learn it to say to you."

So Martha was allowed to buy a hymn-book, and after a few days, to the lady's surprise, she repeated two verses of the well-known hymn, written by Dr. Watts, beginning, “Not all the blood of beasts," quite correctly.

"Did your aunt, or any of the servants, choose this hymn for you?" asked the lady.

“No; they knew nothing about it," said Martha.

“What made you choose these lines then?” said the lady.

“I like them," replied Martha, " because they tell about the blood of Christ."

The lady wondered whether the child, who, a short time ago, was so very ignorant, had any right thoughts about the meaning of the words, so she said, “Why do you like to hear about the blood of Jesus?"

The child replied, “Because I need it. I have not forgotten what you taught me the first day I came to school, that the blood of Jesus takes away all sin; and the second verse in the hymn says that Christ is the heavenly Lamb who can take away sin, and you told me that Jesus was called the Lamb of God because He was slain."

After this the lady prayed much for little Martha, and God Himself graciously carried on the good work which He had begun in the child's heart.

A short time afterward, as Martha was not in her place at school, the lady, who had become very fond of her, and who knew her aunt slightly, went to inquire the reason of her absence.

“She has gone home," said the aunt, "but I expect her back in about a week, and you will be sure to see her at school immediately, for she takes quite a delight in going there, and especially in all that you teach her; so, although it is not in every respect the place I should have desired for her, I shall not at present remove her. I am much pleased," continued the aunt, "with the change I find in my niece's conduct since she has attended this little school. She is not nearly so troublesome, she is very seldom willful and disobedient, and the servant who has the charge of her remarks the same; indeed she seems quite like a different child. While she is being dressed she often talks about your scripture lessons, and begs the maid to seek the forgiveness of her sins through Jesus Christ."

Martha's kind friend was very thankful to hear all this about the child, for she felt sure it was not her teaching or the teaching given at the school, but the teaching of God which was making this change in the little girl's proud heart and unruly ways.

Two or three weeks passed by, and still Martha did not appear at school, so the lady went again to call upon her aunt; she found her in deep sorrow. "My dear little Martha," she said, "was buried yesterday."

The lady was much surprised, and deeply grieved when she heard this sad news. “Do tell me all about it," she said to the aunt.

“I can tell you much that is comforting," replied the poor aunt in the midst of her tears.

"When Martha went home, her youngest sister, little Lucy, was not well; she was thought to have a cold, and as nothing serious was feared, Martha, at her own request, was allowed to spend the evening with the little one in the nursery, and even slept beside her. The next day Lucy was much worse; the doctor pronounced it scarlet fever, she was separated from the other children, and after a few days of suffering she died. Martha also had taken the illness. Many times she inquired for little Lucy; the nurse put off answering her for some time, but Martha, who at last guessed the truth about her little sister, said, ‘I know, nurse, I shall not ask any more; I know that my little sister is gone, but she is gone to Jesus, for Jesus loves little children, He died for them. I shall die too, I think. I shall soon see Jesus, and then I shall be so happy, quite happy, forever. Nurse, do you know that Jesus can take away all your sins and make you quite clean? Do, nurse, ask Him. Perhaps, when I am gone, you will nurse many other little girls, and I wish you would tell them all about Jesus.'".

Martha's father and mother saw her getting worse; they stood weeping by her bedside. “My darling," said her father, “what can I do for you?" Martha answered at once, "Pray to the Lord Jesus; He will bring you to the place where we shall part no more."

Soon after that, a kind friend came into the little girl's room. “You have been very good to me," said the dying child, "but have you been good to God? Your heart is wicked; only Jesus can make you clean."

This was the end of the aunt's story; it is the end of Martha's earthly story too, for very soon after she had spoken these simple words to those around her, she went to be forever with the Lord, who had been so good to her.

Martha's kind friend went home; she was very sorry to think that she should never see the little girl again in her place at school, but she was very glad, too, at what she had heard, and she could rejoice in thinking that Martha was forever happy. Soon afterward she received a letter from Martha's parents, thanking her for all she had taught their dear little child, and begging to have several more hymnbooks like the one Martha had bought, so that they and each of her brothers and sisters might keep one, and learn the hymns, and remember the simple teachings of the little girl. Thus, perhaps, the Flood of Mercy ran beyond Martha to many in that home.

Oh! how blessed for each, whether the father, the mother, the nurse, or the brothers and sisters, if they were taught by grace to "become as a little child."

In some large towns, some kind people take a house in one of the poorest parts; they make it clean and neat, and as pleasant as a little house in crowded streets can be; such a house is sometimes called a Crèche or Nursery. You will guess by this name something of what it is used for. It is used to take in little children, those who are too young to be sent to school, while their mothers go out to work. None are too young to be brought to the Crèche, and none are too poor to be taken in there. It is a safe, comfortable place for the poor little children to spend the day in; some are too young to do anything but lie upon a big kind of bed carefully fenced all round; some can sit on a carpet spread on the floor; some can crawl across the floor, and others can trot about the room. You would laugh if you saw some tiny ones having their dinner in the Crèche. You know it takes a careful nurse some time to give one little child its dinner; every bit must be put into the baby's mouth with a spoon, and baby cannot make haste, and cares nothing about the value of time; but each tiny child in a Crèche cannot have its own nurse to feed it, and so dinner has to be managed in an easier way. The little ones, who are just able to sit up, are placed on very low forms round a very low table, and all they have to do is to open their mouths, then, round comes the nurse with the dish or basin, and each little hungry mouth is ready enough to open wide for the spoon as it comes to them in turn, and so they all get their dinner in about the same time as it takes Miss Baby at home to eat hers with a nurse all to herself. I cannot tell you all about a Crèche, and different houses have different plans and rules, but one thing is certain, it is a place for little children only; a big girl might see the neat house and wish to live there, but she would not be taken in. "I would give no trouble," she might say, or "I would be very useful," but no, the house is for little children; we are not in want of a helper or a servant. Or a big boy might come:

“I am very strong," he might say,” I could do a great deal of work, I have a good character;" but for all that he would not be taken in.

But now see a little child carried or led by its mother; it cannot say anything, it is not useful, it is not strong, it has no character, nothing to recommend it; but never mind, it is the right kind for the pleasant house, it is taken in at once. Just so all who come “as little children" to Christ are received at once.

“And not the weakest e'er can say,
I came, but I was sent away."

There are, I dare say, many dinners and suppers eaten in the Crèche, for little children are very hungry creatures, and so, with a little play and a little sleep, the day passes by, and night comes on; then the little children have to go home; they may not stay always in the Crèche; the mothers are coming fast to the door. It may be a cold dark evening, it may be raining or even snowing, but the little ones must be all carried away, for the night is coming; they leave the neat clean house, and some of those poor little children go back to very miserable homes, for the mothers have been out working hard all day, and often come home late and very tired.

All this part of the story of the Crèche is quite unlike what awaits the little child who comes to Christ. The one who comes to Christ will never, never be sent away. When Jesus has gathered the lambs in His arms He carries them in His bosom. Like the little children who get carried over the shaky bridge in the story of the Difficult Place, those who come to Christ get carried all the way to the home above. Every pleasant thing down here passes away, comes to an end; but everything in the bright and blessed home above lasts forever; the pleasures are for “evermore," the song is eternal, "And there shall be no night there."

Every morning the red sun

Rises warm and bright,

But the evening cometh on,

And the dark cold night.

There's a bright land far away,

Where 'tis never-ending day.

Every spring the sweet young flowers

Open bright and gay,

But the chilly autumn hours

Wither them away.

There's a land we have not seen,

Where the trees are always green.

Little birds sing songs of praise

All the summer long;

But in colder shorter days

They forget their song.

There's a place where angels sing
Ceaseless praises to the King.

Christ the Lord is ever near

Those who follow Him,

But we cannot see Him here,

For our eyes are dim:

There is a most happy place,

Where men always see His face

Who shall go to that bright land?

All by blood made white:

Ransom'd children there shall stand,

In their robes so bright.

For that heaven so bright and blest,

Is their everlasting rest."

Chapter 14:: Child of Bethlehem (Or, the Grace of Our Lord Jesus

“FOR ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich." (2 Cor. 8:9.)

“Rich in glory; Thou didst stoop;
Thence is all Thy people's hope;
Thou vast poor that we might be
Rich in glory, Lord, with Thee."

Matt. 2; Luke 2

MAT 2LUK 2I HAVE placed this chapter last in my book, that it may be apart from all the other chapters, because the Child of Bethlehem was apart from all other children. The Child of Bethlehem was the Lord Jesus Christ; He was apart from all others in His nature, for His nature was holy and sinless; His life also was different from all other lives, for it was perfect in goodness. The Lord Jesus Christ was the “Lamb without blemish and without spot;" He was the perfect Man, but He was also Divine; He was the Son of God.

The Virgin Mary, who was the mother of Jesus, dwelt in Nazareth; this is a city in that northern part of Palestine which is called Galilee; Nazareth is only about seven miles north of Shunem, and so you will not be surprised to hear that it is surrounded by beautiful and fruitful country; wild flowers grow abundantly on the hillside and along the warm valley, and oranges, lemons, olives, pomegranates, and limes are-plentiful there as at Shunem.

A visitor came to the great woman at Shunem, but a far more wonderful visitor came to Mary at Nazareth. This wonderful visitor was an angel, one of those multitudes of heavenly beings who wait around the throne of God to do His pleasure. There are thousands and thousands of them; they are mighty and beautiful; we read of them many times in scripture, for these servants of God were often sent to earth to carry messages from heaven, or to protect the people of God. Angels came to drag poor Lot out of Sodom; it was an angel who brought food for Elijah in the wilderness; it was an angel who shut the mouths of the lions, when Daniel was cast into their den. The angel that visited Mary was named Gabriel; the heavenly visitor came suddenly into the place where she was, and said, " Hail, thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou among women."

Do you think that Mary was very glad when she heard these words from the wonderful visitor? They seemed words to make her heart glad. She was told that she was highly favored, that she was blessed, and that the Lord was with her; yet Mary was troubled, she could not understand why the angel should come and speak in this manner. She searched in her own mind, but she could find no reason there why an angel should come and speak thus to her. The angel could see that Mary was troubled, so he said, “Fear not," and he called her by her name, "Mary;" "Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found favor with God." That was only the beginning of the gracious message; the most wonderful and blessed part was yet to come. The angel Gabriel went on to tell Mary that she had been chosen of God to be the mother of Jesus, the Child whom God had spoken of in the garden of Eden, and whom all Israel, for hundreds and hundreds of years, had been expecting. His name was to be called Jesus, because He was to be a Savior; He was also the appointed King who was to inherit the throne of David; Christ was descended from David, yet He was the only begotten Son of God; "therefore," the angel said, " that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God."

All this was very wonderful news; far too wonderful for Mary's mind or understanding to take in; it is beyond the understanding of any human being; but Mary received this message, wonderful as it was, by faith. Faith is a far greater power than understanding. Faith can receive many things which are quite beyond the understanding of the very wisest man. Mary left off searching about in her own mind, after she had heard of Jesus, and she answered very simply, “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word." Then the angel went away.

Mary, no doubt, longed to speak to some one of the wonderful message. The angel Gabriel had told her that be had, a few months before, visited Zacharias, the husband of her cousin Elizabeth, and had promised him a little son, whose name was to be John, and who was to go as a messenger or herald before the Lord Jesus, to make known His coming and who He was. You know John did this when he said, years afterward, "Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world."

So Mary went to the house of Zacharias; it was a long journey, perhaps about fifty miles, but Mary's heart was full of joy and thankfulness and faith, and that made everything easy to her.

Elizabeth was very glad to see her cousin, and besides this, she thought it a great honor that one who had been chosen of God to be the mother of Jesus, Elizabeth's Savior and God, should come to visit her. She also had a message for Mary in answer to her faith, and it is a nice word for any who simply believe the precious truths and promises of the word of God. “Blessed is she that believed; for there shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord." Then Mary spoke, but rather to God than to Elizabeth. What Mary said you can read in verses 46 to 55 of Luke 1

One sad thing I must now tell you. While these two holy, and blessed, and believing women were thus speaking and praising God, poor Zacharias had to be silent; he was dumb; he had not been born dumb, but he had been made dumb at the time when the angel Gabriel visited him, because he had not believed the gracious message sent to him from God about the promised son.

Soon after Mary's visit, Zacharias showed his faith and his remembrance of the words of the angel in a remarkable manner. When his friends came together, after the baby was born, to rejoice with Elizabeth, they were going to name the child Zacharias, after his father, but Zacharias knew that God had appointed another name for this child. How he must have longed to speak, and interrupt the people, when they settled to name his little son “Zacharias!" But he could not.

Elizabeth had, I suppose, learned from her husband what the angel had made known to him, and she refused the name of Zacharias for the baby, saying, "Not so, but he shall be called John."

The relations did not approve of this name, they saw no reason for calling the child John; they said, "There is none of thy kindred that is called by this name."

But Elizabeth's child had not been sent to keep in remembrance his own family, or to make for himself a name, he was sent to be the messenger going before the Lord, to announce His name and His coming, and to make the people ready for Him. It was a far greater honor to announce the name of the Lord Jesus Christ than to have the greatest of family names of his own; so we read, further on in John's history, "Verily I say unto you, among them that are born of, women, there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist." The Lord had Himself chosen the name of His messenger, but the relations did not know this; they made signs to Zacharias how he would have the child called, but neither could Zacharias choose the name of his son; this child was already named, named of God before he had been born. Zacharias, by signs, made known that he wanted something to write upon, and then he wrote only four words, but they astonished the whole company very much.

The four words were these, "His name is John." Zacharias did not say, “I should like," or "I think," or "His name shall be." No. Zacharias owned that this little son was the child whose birth the angel had foretold, and whose name and work had been already appointed of God. When Zacharias had thus shown his faith and submission to the word of God, his dumbness went away; God opened His mouth immediately, and he spake and praised God.

After this, the friends and relations left the house of Zacharias, and they told of the wonderful time they had spent; how the child had had a name already given him of God, how Zacharias' speech had been restored to him, and how he had praised God. The news of these marvels spread through all the neighborhood, and the people said, “What manner of child shall this be!"

Ah! he was a wonderful child, this son of Zacharias and Elizabeth; a blessed child, and blessed was the work given him to do. His father, when filled with the Holy Ghost, said of him, "Thou child shalt be called the prophet of the Highest: for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord, to prepare his ways; to give knowledge of salvation unto his people by the remission of their sins," but a far more wonderful and a far more blessed Child was soon to be born in the land, the One of whom this very John said afterward, "His shoe's latchet I am not worthy to unloose." This was the Child of whom Isaiah had prophesied saying, "Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace." More than seven hundred years had passed since those words had been spoken, but now the time, “the fullness of time," was come. Mary had gone back to Nazareth, after spending three months with her cousin Elizabeth, but soon she had to take another long journey; and this time, Joseph her husband went with her.

Augustus Caesar, a great Roman Emperor, had possession of Judea, and he had ordered that the inhabitants of all his vast dominions should be numbered, and a tax, or small sum of money, collected from each person. In order to be taxed, every person had to go to his own native city or village; and so Joseph, who belonged to Bethlehem, the city of David, had to take this journey to be taxed, and numbered among the subjects of the great Roman Emperor. Augustus Caesar was, at that time, the greatest man in the world; he ruled over numbers of countries, kings even were subject to him, and every command of his, however inconvenient, had to be at once obeyed; but a greater than Caesar was soon to appear in the land of Judaea.

By the slow traveling of that time, it must have taken Joseph and Mary several days to reach Bethlehem, for it was nearly seventy miles south of Nazareth; the roads, no doubt, were not lonely, for numbers of people were journeying at that same time and for the same reason; and when Joseph and Mary reached Bethlehem, they found the inn already so crowded that there was no room for them. If Mary had appeared as a very grand lady, perhaps the master of the inn might have managed to make room for her, but her appearance was simple, and no one guessed that the wife of the carpenter at Nazareth was the one chosen of God to be the mother of the infant Savior. Joseph and Mary, therefore, were sent away from the inn; and so it was that Mary's first born son, the holy child Jesus, was laid in a manger.

"Mary brought forth her first born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger."

Perhaps, if the master of the inn ever understood what had happened, that the long expected Child, the Messiah of Israel, the Christ of God had been laid in the manger because he had sent away the mother from his inn, he might have felt very sorry; yet it may have been more according to the thoughts of God that the Holy Child should find His first home in that lonely manger than amid the crowd in the inn; for the cattle themselves had not fallen so far below the place in which the Creator had set them, as had rebellious Israel. “Hear, O heavens; and give ear, O earth; for the Lord hath spoken: I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib: but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider. Ah, sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a seed of evildoers, children that are corrupters! they have forsaken the Lord, they have provoked the Holy One of Israel unto anger, they have gone away backward."

Oh, what grace and what glory; what glory of grace filled that humble shelter, where the Child lay in the manger! Children are often proud to find themselves growing up. How pleased a little boy is if any one tells him that he is growing into a man; but Christ, in becoming a man, humbled Himself very very much. If any among those crowds who had come to be taxed had been invited to visit the Emperor Augustus, it would have been regarded by them as a wonderful honor; but if that little Infant had left the oxen's stall and gone to dwell in the palace of the great Augustus Caesar, it would have been an act of great humility and condescension on His part.

“Christ is merciful and mild,
He was once a little child;
He whom heavenly hosts adore,
Lived on earth among the poor.

Thus He laid His glory by,
When for us He came to die;
How I wonder when I see
His unbounded love to me!"

Crowded Bethlehem knew little of the favor that had reached it; earth went on its busy way; but in heaven it was known that the moment, so long waited for, had come; the angels, those heavenly hosts who for ages past had done homage to Him who had been from everlasting, now received the command told to us in Heb. 1:6, "When he bringeth in the first-begotten into the world he saith, And let all the angels of God worship him."

Outside Bethlehem, how far we are not told, but away in the quiet fields, were some shepherds; they were not the rich, the noble, the wise, or the mighty of this world; they were doing nothing wonderful, they were just going on with their simple business, “Keeping watch over their flock by night." Yet these shepherds of Judaea were chosen to hear and to make known the wonderful news of the birth of Jesus. Little they thought, as they sat quietly in the field through the dark still hours of that night, how soon the light and the music of heaven were to surround them; but “Lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them." It must have been a wonderful light; the shepherds knew at once that it was beyond any of the lights appointed to rule the night; this was no glimmer of stars, no silver brilliancy of moonlight. In the midst of that night they beheld a light beyond the brightness of the sun at noonday; the light shone round about them, all round them, there was no dark place where

they could hide themselves from the dazzling splendor. They were made aware of the nearness of the Lord and they were sore afraid; for man, even a chosen shepherd of Judaea, cannot bear the light of the glory of God. That is the light which the Lord God will give to His saints in heaven forever. To them it will be a blessed, welcome light; but to enjoy it, or even to bear it, we must know ourselves cleansed from sin, and we must also have these weak bodies changed, and fashioned like unto the glorious body of the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.

It was not a Savior in a manger, it was not a Christ stooping to take upon Him the form of a man, who could take away all conscience of sins and all fear because of sinfulness from the hearts of the shepherds. None but a crucified, and risen, and glorified Christ can do this; and the Child of Bethlehem was not yet known in this way. But God had compassion on the weakness and fear of the shepherds; and, as from the angel to Hagar, or from the prophet to the widow, or from the angel to Mary, the gracious message, “Fear not," was at once given to assure the hearts of the poor shepherds. "Fear not: for 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 Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."

No sooner had this gracious message reached the ears of the wondering shepherds than multitudes of angels joined the one who had spoken; multitudes of heavenly voices now sounded together. They spoke not to the shepherds, but to God, yet the shepherds were allowed to hear what was said; and God has also permitted you and me to read this song of the angels, though we cannot, like, the shepherds of Bethlehem, hear the lovely voices which on that night praised God and said, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men."

What a wonderful invitation these shepherds had received! they had been invited by the angel of the Lord to go to Bethlehem and see the holy baby, the Hope of Israel, lying in the manger. I am sure you are not surprised to hear that they were very anxious to go. As soon as the heavenly message was given, and the heavenly song ended, and the heavenly visitors gone away, the shepherds said one to another, "Let us now go even unto Bethlehem and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us."

They made haste away from the lonely fields and along the roads “even to Bethlehem," and there they saw Mary, the blessed and highly favored mother, and Joseph, and the lovely, lowly Babe lying in a manger. Oh, what a sight this was! the infant Savior, Christ, the sent One of God, the tiny, tender body of a baby, but indwelt by "all the fullness of the Godhead." Can you fancy the silent reverence, the holy joy and adoring love with which these shepherds would stand, and look upon the Child in the manger? And when they had seen, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this Child.

It was good tidings of great joy to those who heard the shepherds, and, more than that, to all people. Yes; good tidings of great joy, that the Father had sent the Son to be the Savior of the world.

The shepherds gave out their joyful message, and then they returned to their flock, glorifying and praising God, for they had seen all as it had been told them. We cannot see, as did those shepherds; for us the word is, "Whom having NOT seen ye love; in whom, though now ye see him NOT, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory."

“Unseen we love Thee; dear Thy name;
But when our eyes behold,
With joyful wonder we'll exclaim,
The half had not been told."

The day is coming soon when we, who now have not seen yet have believed, shall see Him as He is; and, among ten thousand times ten thousand and thousands of thousands, the mighty countless multitudes of angels and redeemed ones, we shall join in the eternal song of praise to Jesus, once the manger babe, "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing."

When the Holy baby was about five weeks old he was taken up to Jerusalem, just as, one thousand years before, little Samuel had been taken to Shiloh, to be presented to the Lord. This was a very short journey. There was in Jerusalem a man named Simeon; all his life he had been waiting in faith and hope for the One whom God had promised as the Deliverer of Israel. He was an old man, those who saw him might have thought him likely soon to die, but Simeon had received a gracious message from God which cheered him very much. It was this: old as he was, and long as the waiting-time might seem, Simeon was not to die until he had seen the Lord's Christ. Was not this a gracious message from the God of all grace? What a blessed hope for the aged man! Do you think he ever passed a day without thinking about it? I think not. One day, the Spirit of God made known to Simeon that he was to go at once to the Temple. He went there, and presently he saw what might have been often seen, at that time, in the Temple: a young mother coming in with a baby to offer the sacrifice which was appointed by the law, "A pair of turtle doves or two young pigeons." Wonderful joy must have filled the heart of Simeon at that moment, for he knew that the Infant, now being brought into the Temple, was One such as he had never seen before; He was the One for whom Simeon had waited day after day, the Lord's Christ, the Salvation of God. He took the precious baby in his arms and blessed God and said, “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word: for mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou halt prepared before the face of all people; A light to lighten the Gentiles and the glory of thy people Israel."

Then Simeon blessed Joseph and Mary; he did not bless the little baby; that little Child could not be blessed by any man, He was there to bless, He was the One who came not to be ministered unto but to minister, and to give His life a ransom for many. Simeon also told Mary wonderful things made known to him by God about this holy and wonderful Child, and while he was yet speaking another aged person came in. This was a widow of more than a hundred years old; her name was Anna, she too had long waited for the promised Messiah, and now, with a joyful heart, she joined in the praises of the aged Simeon. Then she went out and spoke about the precious Babe to all who, by faith, were expecting the Deliverer promised by God to Israel.

What gracious messages, what hopes and what praises surrounded “the Child of Bethlehem!" But were all in Jerusalem glad? No. The faithful were a small company, though they were the excellent of the earth. There were many in that city, the great of the, earth, who wanted nothing and hoped for nothing sent of God, and who knew nothing of the glory which had shone around the shepherds, of the lovely sight in the Bethlehem manger, or the joy and praises in the Temple. Herod, called the Great, who ruled over Judaea and Jerusalem, though he was himself under the Roman Emperor, had very different hopes and thoughts from the aged Simeon. The thing Herod least desired was a Deliverer for Israel; the coming of the Promised King and Savior, Emmanuel, God with us, was no blessed hope to his heart. Herod, no doubt, knew something of the hopes and promises of Israel, but they were truths which he tried to forget. The Child of Bethlehem might come to the city where he reigned as the Great, might honor the Temple with His presence, and might fill the hearts of the faithful with praises, but there was nothing in the dark heart of the King of Judæa that could answer to the note of joy. That which was a note of joy to a humble few came as a sound of trouble and disturbance to Herod.

After Joseph and Mary and the Babe had returned to Bethlehem, some other strangers visited Jerusalem; these were from a distance, from the East. They were magi, that is, wise and learned men; these men, some time ago, had seen a star, a bright and wonderful star, and by this sight they had learned that the One foretold of by the prophets as King of Israel was now born into the world. But how little they guessed either the ruin of the people or the lowly grace of the heaven-born King! The wise men went to Jerusalem; surely they supposed that the long-expected King had been born in some princely house in the great city, they expected, perhaps, to be among the last of the willing worshippers who would throng around the promised Child. How great must have been their surprise when they found that, among the chief men in Jerusalem, He had not been heard of. They said, "Where is he that is born King of the Jews, for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him?"

No one could answer them; no one was expecting the King of the Jews, no one was desiring Him. When Herod heard what the wise men said, "he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him." Oh, what a sad and dreadful state their hearts must have been in, when the thought of the coming of Christ could thus trouble them.

How happy was Mary, the blessed mother! How happy was Joseph the carpenter from despised Nazareth! How happy were the dying Simeon, and the widowed Anna! How happy are all who need and who trust in Christ! however humble, however poor. How miserable are the greatest, the richest, the noblest of earth who know not and desire not Christ Jesus the Savior!

Herod the Great was much alarmed by the news which the wise men brought. These wise men from the East were very different people from the poor Judæan shepherds, they were messengers not to be disregarded. Herod feared that there was some truth in what they said; he sent for all the chief priests and scribes of the Jews. The scribes, you remember, were those whose business it was to study and write out and teach the scriptures, and they would certainly know whether it was possible that the King had been born to Israel. “Herod demanded of them where Christ should be born." The chief priests and scribes knew the scriptures, though they so little desired Him of whom Moses and all the prophets had spoken. They could answer Herod at once, that Messiah the King had been spoken of as being born in Bethlehem; they could say, “for thus it is written by the prophets." Herod felt assured that the prophecy had been fulfilled, and an awful plan of wickedness arose in his heart, but he did not tell this plan to any one. Perhaps he feared that no one would have been found wicked enough to help him in it; that some one, if he had made it known, would have prevented it. But could Herod hide his plan?

Can any one hide any thought, however dark and wicked, that has a place in his heart? No. God read the dreadful plan that was in the heart of Herod, and prevented it from succeeding. When Herod had made this dreadful plan in his heart he told a lie to the wise men. He told them to go to Bethlehem, and he said, "Go and search diligently for the young child; and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship him also." The wise men went away; it may have seemed strange to them to be sent from the great city Jerusalem to the little town of Bethlehem, but no sooner had they started on their journey than their hearts received a token of encouragement from God, which made them rejoice with exceeding great joy; for lo, the star, that bright and wonderful star which they had so long ago beheld in the eastern sky, now shone again upon them; and, more than this, it moved swiftly on in front of them. It guided the strangers to Bethlehem, and then it stood above a house. This was the house where Joseph and Mary and the Babe were dwelling; for during the many weeks which had passed, Bethlehem had, no doubt, become less crowded, and Joseph had probably removed with his wife and the holy Child from the stable and the manger to which the master of the inn had sent them.

Exceeding great joy had filled the hearts of the magi as they gazed upon the star, but their hearts must have overflowed with joy when they entered the house and beheld Him of whom the star had told-the little Child with Mary His mother. A sweet, gracious "Little Child," simply, to their eyes, a little child; but the sent One of God, "A light to lighten the Gentiles and the glory of his people Israel." The magi, truly wise, for they were taught of God, fell down and worshipped, for they felt themselves, honored men as they were, to be but nothing in the presence of that little Child. They “worshipped him," and presented unto Him gifts-gold and frankincense and myrrh.

All this was heavenly light and heavenly joy, pure bright light and gladness; but, during the night, God made known to the wise men in a dream the dark plan which filled the heart of the wicked and miserable Herod. They were not to go back to Jerusalem, that lovely sight at Bethlehem was not to be displayed to Herod. The wise men departed into their own country another way. Herod waited in vain for their return; at last he knew that they were not coming. He had deceived them, but now that he found that they had dared to deceive him, he was full of rage. He was determined, too, to carry out his wicked intention, so he sent and killed all the little children of two years old and under that were in Bethlehem. Lamentation and weeping and great mourning filled the town.

Oh, how cruel was this wicked king, Herod the Great! Great indeed was his wickedness, but great indeed, too, was his foolishness if he thought that with all his strength, his swords, and his rage he could cut off from the earth the Branch of the Lord, the Child whose name was "Wonderful, Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace."

God could have struck all the soldiers dead as they entered Bethlehem to perform the wicked commands of King Herod; the very presence of that little Child of Bethlehem would, if His divine power had been put forth, have been enough to make them all then—as other soldiers did later—go backwards and fall to the ground; but God was showing then not the power but the lowly grace of the Savior, so, long before the Jerusalem soldiers came to Bethlehem, Joseph, having been instructed by God in a dream, had taken the little Child into Egypt with Mary His mother. The people of Israel had once, long ago, dwelt in Egypt, and Christ, who in grace shared all things which His people suffered, would dwell there too; He would journey, as the people had done one thousand four hundred and ninety-one years before, from Egypt to the land of Israel.

Herod could not put the Child of Bethlehem to death, but soon after he tried to do it he died himself, and then an angel of God appeared to Joseph saying, "Arise, and take the young child and his mother, and go into the land of Israel, for they are dead which sought the young child's life."

Joseph did not return to Judea; he went on to Nazareth. It was a place despised by the Jews. Nazarene was a name of contempt, yet it was given to Jesus, for “He is despised and rejected of men." In Nazareth, amid the humble surroundings of the home of Joseph, "the Child grew and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was upon Him."

Every year Joseph and Mary went up to Jerusalem; this was to keep the feast of the Passover. All the feasts and all the sacrifices spoke of Him who, now in grace, as a Child, accompanied Mary and Joseph.

“In Him the shadows of the law
Are all fulfill'd and now withdraw."

Twelve years had passed away since the night of the angels' song. Joseph and Mary had gone up to Jerusalem to the feast of the Passover, and the Child Jesus, Himself the “Lamb foreordained," had gone with them.

When the feast was ended, which was not until after several days, Joseph and Mary began their journey homewards, but the Child Jesus remained behind in Jerusalem. It was some time before the parents observed that Jesus was not with them, then they began to search among the many companies of people who were, like themselves, traveling home after the Feast, but among them all the precious Child could not be found; the parents went from one to another of their friends and relations, but they could hear nothing of the Son whom they sought. Their hearts were very sorrowful; this Child of perfect Grace and Wisdom was, no doubt, a gift much prized and dearly valued in the humble home at Nazareth. Mary, too, kept in her heart the wonderful things that had been seen and said at the time of His birth; but none, as yet, really or fully understood who Jesus was; none could know all that His heart felt and knew as He walked, a child of twelve, through the streets of the beloved city, Jerusalem. Great was the surprise of the Nazareth parents when, after three days, they found the Child whom they sought. He was in the Temple, "sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hearing them and asking them questions." The doctors were the learned, men or teachers of the Jewish people, yet they, as well as all who heard, were astonished at the understanding and at the answers of the Holy Child. We know that He was the Wisdom of God, therefore we are not surprised that His understanding should have been far beyond that of the most learned men in Jerusalem, but the people then did not understand the wonderful truth that Jesus is the Son of God.

Mary gently questioned her Son; she said, “Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? Behold thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing." "And he said unto them, How is it that ye sought me? Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?"

Mary and Joseph did not understand this saying of Jesus; they did not understand who Jesus was, nor the work He had come to do, but Jesus returned with them to Nazareth, and was subject to them. This was grace in Jesus, in us it is a duty. Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature, and in favor with God and man; the Perfect Child grew into the Perfect Man.

When Mary said. “Thy father and I," she spoke of Joseph the carpenter, for Jesus was counted to be, or supposed to be, the son of Joseph; but when Jesus said, "my Father's business," He spoke of God, for He had come to do the will of God. Of Him it was written in Psa. 40, "Sacrifice and offering thou didst not desire; mine ears hast thou opened: burnt-offering and sin-offering hast thou not required. Then said I, Lo, I come: in the volume of the book it is written of me, I delight to do thy will, O my God; yea, thy law is within my heart."

How rich was Christ, the Son of God, who was equal with God, whose dwelling from everlasting had been the glory of God! How poor, for our sakes, He became when He lay in the manger at Bethlehem, when He fled from the king into Egypt, when He had not where to lay His head, when He sat weary by the well-side and asked for a little water; yet all this stooping in grace, wonderful as was its lowliness, would not have been low enough to reach us. To reach us, poor sinners, Christ had yet to humble Himself, and become obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Only by the death of Christ could the sinner be reached and saved, and "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world TO SAVE SINNERS."

Lord, we would trace Thy lowly path,

And in Thy steps discern

The luster of Thy light and love,

And all Thy goodness learn.

How wonderful in grace Thy birth!

But grace man could not see;

Content, in blind self-love he sat,

And found "no room” for Thee.

The lonely stall, where oxen feed,

Must be the accepted place,

First open to Thine infant need,

Oh, mystery of grace!

The Savior God in manger laid,

Can heaven the secret keep?

No, angel hosts triumphant break

Earth's midnight silence deep.

The voiceless heavens take up the tale,

By starry guidance led,

Men, whom the world that counts Thee mean,

Held wise, fall round Thy bed.

Shepherds and wise men taught of God,

Fall round Thee and adore;

Teach me, like them, to know Thy worth,

And praise Thee evermore.

But though so great in lowliness,

Thy life from earliest days,

We only through Thy death can learn

Thy precious worth to praise."

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