I the pretty little village of Milford, near Stafford, these words are affixed to one of the cottages:
“A public-house, without strong drink,
Where men may talk, and read, and think.”
The following lines were suggested after perusal of the above:
Can it be true? Too oft, alas!
Men love the sparkling, brimming glass;
Then if o’ercome by maddening drink,
How can they pause to read and think?
Would that each public-house were lit
With words so full of wisdom’s wit;
That many in this favored land
‘Gainst alcohol would make a stand!
“A public-house;” ah! pleasing thought!
Where only harmless drink is bought,
And nothing sold to disagree,
But only wholesome food and tea.
And might we not a sermon preach
From words that such a lesson teach?
Bear with me while I now essay
A few reflections by the way.
There is a drink both good and strong;
To needy souls it cloth belong;
Both strength and goodness here combine.
There is a drink the Lord of heaven
To all His trembling saints has given;
Who tastes this drink shall thirst no more,
Though scattered here, and very few,
Christ’s “little flock” are staunch and true;
They love to find a meeting-place,
There to enjoy the means of grace.
And every saint will hold sweet talk,
As heavenwards they as pilgrims walk;
Where reigns the Lord they’ve learned to love.
And every saint has learned to read,
And on God’s promises to feed;
They hold the Word of life their guide,
And by its precepts they abide.
And as of life’s sweet streams they drink,
Of dying ones they’ve learned to think;
And longing that they too may taste,
They offer help with loving haste.
Come, thirsty ones, He waits to give;
Come, heavy laden, drink and live;
Come, perishing, for whom He bled,
He is the Water, He the Bread.
No earthly food can satisfy;
We eat and drink, and then we die;
In Christ alone is found true joy,
And pleasures too without alloy.
A. M. H.