Him That Cometh

THIS WAS THE TORMENTING question that continually harrowed the mind of Frances P—. “If I am one of the elect then I will be saved, and if I am not—then I’ll be lost.” It was but another of Satan’s deceptions to keep her from Christ. Election is a most blessed and comforting truth of Scripture, but it is one of the family secrets of the household of faith. The awakened sinner needs a Savior, for he is lost, he is dead and needs life, guilty and needs justification. Will election save, will it quicken, will it justify? I am a personal sinner and I need a personal Savior. Did election die for you? Has not God taken to Himself the title, Savior-God, and think you He will share His glory with another, or with aught else? Even supposing you could search the registers of Heaven and find your name inscribed there, would that help you to peace, would such a piece of information put your sins away? Oh, dismiss this foolish thought! Rebuke the enemy by at once accepting Christ.

“Am I one of the elect?” I cannot say. But I can assure you of this, on the authority of God, that you are a sinner, and unless you repent and believe the gospel, you must perish. Election did not die on the cross for you, and it is the cross of Jesus Christ alone which determines your character and position before God.

You want to be saved sometime, but—when? WHEN?

“Oh, the misery of my soul,” she afterward related, “as I wondered if mine was saving faith, if I was believing with my head or my heart. How sure I felt I could be, if I could only feel happy. But God would not have us feel happy for our assurance. If that were the case, where would the assurance be during testing times, in the dark and cloudy day? Ah, no! Our salvation must rest upon His Word, and that alone, and then what a sure foundation we have. Before I was saved the ‘believing verses’ seemed hard for me. Having heard this expression, ‘The devils also believe, and tremble’ (James 2:19), I wondered how I could know if I am believing to the saving of my soul. But when John 6:37 was shown me, and I saw Him, as it were, with outstretched arms, saying, ‘Come! Oh, come to Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest,’ and, ‘Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out,’ I simply came to Jesus

—as I was,

Weary and worn and sad;

I found in Him a resting place,

And He has made me glad',”

“Lord, are there few that be saved?” was a curious question once put to our Lord. Did He gratify the idle curiosity of the man? No; but He addressed a solemn word to the consciences of His hearers. “Strive to enter in at the strait gate; for many, I say unto you, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able” (Luke 13:23-24). The “gate” was fitted and made just to allow sinners to get in. It is “strait;” too much so, if thou comest as a saint or as an elect one, but quite wide enough if you come as a sinner. Many now occupying themselves with election will at the last find themselves standing outside the closed door, unsaved and unsavable.

Why will you raise up barriers where God has erected none? Why will you oppose your own salvation? Why trouble your mind about that which in no wise concerns you? God will save you now. If you wait longer you may perish. Is not Christ, in the glory bright above, the witness of the perfect putting away of sins? What more would you have? Could God do more than He has done to set you in peace before Him? He gave His Son, who “appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself” (Heb. 9:26). Now all is done, and God rests in divine satisfaction in that work. The “one sacrifice for sin” is either sufficient for your ransom, or, if not, you must perish. See to it, that you be not among the many who will be taken from discussing theological points to meet God in eternity.

“Never let what you do not know disturb what you do know,” said a wise and good man.

Never forget that He who said, “All that the Father giveth Me shall come to Me,” immediately added: “And him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37).

“Oh, precious words that Jesus said:

‘The soul that comes to Me

I will in no wise cast him out,

Whoever he may be’.”

NOT CAST OUT

I never yet heard a single person say: “I came to Jesus, and He cast me out.” There never was such a case. If you are not saved and happy in the love of Christ, it is because you have never come to Him. For more than nineteen hundred years His own words have been standing on record: “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37). Are you among those who have come? If not, come now. His gracious invitation is, “Come unto Me... and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28).

The Ark

THROUGHOUT SCRIPTURE we cannot find a more beautiful and striking type of the Lord Jesus Christ, the Savior of sinners, than we have in the ark. In the days of Noah sin so abounded that God could suffer it no longer, and was, so to speak, forced to sweep from off the face of the earth all who would not take warning, but went heedlessly on in their own ways, fearing not God. But God in His love, willing to save, prepared an ark by the hands of Noah, and when we consider the length of time taken to build the ark, the longsuffering of God is magnificently set forth. One word from God and the ark could have been in readiness; but not so; one man is put to work, and plenty of time is given for all to hear of the coming flood and this place of refuge. Every nail driven was not only a warning voice, but a gracious invitation to believe and live. But—oh, solemn thought!—thorough indifference reigned; the voice of Noah fell upon their ears as rain upon the flinty rock, opinions passing, most likely, from one to another upon the weakness of mind and folly of Noah. They would not believe the message from God; God can justly say, “I would, but ye would not” (Matt. 23:37). But after one hundred and twenty years of warning, the time was up—God’s longsuffering came to an end; the ark was finished, all the animals God wished saved were gathered into the ark, then Noah, his wife and family, — “and the Lord shut him in” (Gen. 7:16). The door was shut.

Dear unsaved one, what a voice of warning is this to you! Forget not that God’s Word is as true today as it was in the days of Noah. Christ is now the Ark of God, prepared by God upon Calvary’s cross, while He was nailed to that accursed tree. Oh, what a voice to the sons of men! Nails were driven through those precious blessed hands and feet of the adorable Lamb of God! And all, all to prepare an Ark for sinners. And yet innumerable are the souls who treat all this work of God with indifference, who think of none of these things. But God is not mocked; the day is fast approaching when He will again shut the door, and those who have not entered into the Ark must be left outside for judgment, for there is no other way of escape. In the days of Noah some might have climbed to the top of the highest mountain, but all was of no use; the ark was the only place of safety. And so it is now, dear reader; there is no safety out of Christ. “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 8:1); but all who have heard the gospel and who are not in Him must perish. “But how am I to get into Christ?” you may ask. Well, I will tell you the way. Christ is the Way; Christ is the Door; Christ is the Ark. Come to Him. “Him that cometh to Me (says the Lord Jesus Christ) I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37). He will take you in if you will only come to Him; the only hindrance is with yourself; you will not come to Him. How often has the blessed Lord to say, “Ye will not come to Me that ye might have life” (John 5:40). Other vessels may be very much like an ark. Beware of anything short of Christ, the Ark of God. Religion is not the ark, neither are prayers—nothing short of Christ. “By Me (says the blessed Lord) if any man enter in he shall be saved” (John 10:9).

This is a very simple warning and invitation, but it is another message to you, and adds to your responsibility if you go on without Christ.

In these days men are treating God’s message of love very much as the people did in the days of Noah. Look, for instance, at one of God’s servants standing in the street, crying with a loud voice, “Judgment is approaching; believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved” (Acts 16:31). One and another will venture to stop for a minute, and then turn away as if from an idle tale; others with scornful indifference pass by as if they would not deign to look upon one so foolish, and haughtily refuse to accept a tract containing the glad tidings of God; but dear reader, “It pleased God, by the foolishness of preaching, to save them that believe” (1 Cor. 1:21). Again, God must say, “I would, but ye would not” (Matt. 23:37). Many tell you they are doing the best they can. What would doing of any kind, good or bad, have availed for those in the days of Noah outside the ark? Nothing, dear reader, nothing! Neither will doing of any kind serve those who are not in Christ. You may say, “But I am working to get in.” Did God ask the people in the days of Noah to work to get into the ark? Distinctly not. What God asked them was simply to believe the message that they were lost and ruined, and ere long judgment would overtake them, and directed them to the ark as the only place of safety. God’s message is the same today. Sinner, you are lost and ruined; get into the Ark, else you will perish. Oh, believe the message; go at once to the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, and He will take you in just as you are and land you safe in glory. He loves you, and in love beseeches you to take refuge in Him, the Ark of God.

“O’er mountain, hill, and vale,

Glides safely on,

The ark.

How high the billows rise,

But higher is

The ark.

The wind blows strong and keen,

But stronger is

The ark.

How safe, how very safe.

Are all within

The Ark!”

—Beacon Lights.

A Brazilian Soldier's Deliverance

“Hallo, soldier! Have a tract?”

It was not a happy face that looked up at my call. Joaquim Portilho was sitting on the doorstep of the guardroom at the prison of an island village called Catalao. Like most Brazilian soldiers I have had to do with, he respectfully accepted the gospel leaflet I proffered; and this proved to be the first step toward his salvation.

The seed took root at once and Joaquim appeared a most promising enquirer. He could read, and soon became deeply convinced of the truth. He gave up his drink and tobacco, and testified publicly at the gospel meetings which were being held nightly hard by the prison itself. His wife became converted soon after, but she never gave up the tobacco. Not very long after, Joaquim’s vocation as a soldier took him far away with a detachment of troops to a place in the interior, still more remote.

Apart from the gospel teaching and fellowship, and surrounded by godless influences, his faith began to weaken; and soon some of his old habits reasserted themselves, so that he became bound again in the subtle chains of Satan. Smoking was the first step downward, then in rapid succession one thing after another dragged him lower until he was in a more degraded condition than he had ever been. Yet he quite realized what was transpiring, and he made occasional efforts to break away. Then striving to stifle all the grave warnings and teachings he had received, he filled up the measure of his iniquities by joining the Spiritists when invited by a friend.

At the first seance he sat with others, pencil in hand. Suddenly, to his fright, his hand became violently agitated, and he began to write under some unseen influence. So great was the power over him that the others at once declared him to be a medium of remarkable promise. Although exalted by this discovery, Joaquim had a hidden feeling of fear, particularly when strange, uncanny manifestations took place in his own house; and he prayed to God that if this thing were not from Him, He would deliver him.

At the next seance a few nights later, a medium under spirit influence quoted a warning from Scripture, and abruptly closed the session which had only lasted five minutes. This extraordinary turn of affairs only increased Joaquim’s fears, but what impressed him was that from that hour the spirits had no more power over him. When inquiry was made of them, the reply was that as the man still retained some vestige of a past belief, he could not be a medium.

One reason why Joaquim had still some flickering faith left was to be found in the fact that he never parted with his Bible, and that he occasionally referred to its inspired pages. Meanwhile, he had ceased to be a soldier, and had hard work to support his family. He grew despairing over his squalid home, which was daily the scene of acute quarrels. He opened a drink saloon, and Satan prospered him, but his wife became a drunkard. Family discord increased, and blows were common. Yet with it all he never could forget the past. In his heart he sided with the gospel against himself, and sometimes prayed to God for help.

Two verses often recurred to Joaquim. One was, “He that is not against us, is on our side” (Mark 9:40), and his idea was that he could not be utterly rejected, seeing that in his better moments he still believed in the gospel of Jesus Christ. The other passage was, “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out;” and to these in his sin and misery, he yet desperately clung.

Things went from bad to worse. Joaquim kept a gambling and dancing house, and made plenty of money; but worst of all, perhaps, he was instrumental in leading others to Spiritism, even when he himself most distrusted it.

Suddenly, without any apparent reason, he yielded to a strong impulse to move away, that he might seek in some other place to lead a better life. He purchased two mules and a small ox-cart, and, packing his belongings and taking his family with him, he trudged his way on foot a distance of two hundred miles to Goyaz, arriving but a few weeks before I entered it myself, after a long absence.

It was now nearly six years since I had last seen Joaquim. I had at first occasionally heard fragmentary news of him—it was generally bad news; but for several years he had completely dropped out of my sight, and I had almost forgotten him, except, perhaps, as merely one in the great army of hardened backsliders.

I was again riding into the Capital of Goyaz, after an absence of nearly four years. As I rode down the central street, scanning with pleasure the old familiar scenes of past endeavor, and noting here and there a well-remembered face, my eyes lighted on a wretched scarecrow of a man, selling water in the street for a living; and in that haggard, unkempt, unhappy looking individual, I recognized Joaquim Portilho, making a first step towards an honorable existence. Our eyes met, and he looked ashamed. Though I only saluted him by name as I rode by, my heart went out to him at once; and a day or two later I found him, very broken in spirit, and very eager for reconciliation.

God began to work at once for his restoration. Soon after, in one of our gospel meetings, he made public confession of his sin, when godly sorrow and penitence were seen mingled with the joy of renewed life.

Joaquim was then a changed man; and with his whole heart and soul he craved some opportunity to prove his love and gratitude for so great a Savior. He desired to return to those places where he so fully served the devil, in order to demonstrate by his life and testimony what God had done for him; and God has given him some remarkable opportunities in this respect.

—“Adventures with the Bible in Brazil.”

* * * * *

“Out of my shameful failure and loss,

Jesus, I come! Jesus, I come!

Into the glorious gain of Thy Cross,

Jesus, I come to Thee!

`Out of earth’s sorrows into Thy balm,

Out of life’s storm and into Thy calm,

Out of distress to jubilant psalm

Jesus, I come to Thee!

Out of unrest and arrogant pride,

Jesus, I come! Jesus, I come!

Into Thy blessed will to abide,

Jesus, I come to Thee!

Out of myself to dwell in Thy love,

Out of despair into raptures above,

Upward for aye on wings like a dove,

Jesus, I come to Thee!”

The Call of God

“Come!"—‘Tis Jesus gently calling,

“Ye with care and toil opprest,

With your guilt, howe’er appalling—

Come, and I will give you rest.”

For your sin He “once has suffered,”

On the cross the work was done;

And the word by God now uttered

To each weary soul is “Come!”

‘Come!” the Father’s House stands open,

With its love, and light, and song;

And, returning to that Father,

All to you may now belong!

From sin’s distant land of famine,

Toiling ‘neath the mid-day sun,

To a Father’s House of plenty—

And a Father’s welcome “Come!”

“Come!” for night is gathering quickly

O’er this world’s fast fleeting day;

If you linger till the darkness,

You will surely miss your way.

And still waiting—sadly waiting,

Till the day its course has run,

With His patience unabating,

JESUS lingers for you—“Come!”

“Come!” for angel hosts are musing

O’er this sight so strangely sad;

God “beseeching"—man refusing

To be made forever glad!

From the world and its delusion,

Now our voices rise as one;

While we shout God’s Invitation,

Heaven itself re-echoes “Come!”

—A. S. O.

The Closing Appeal

IN CLOSING, let me once more appeal to the unsaved. My friends, do come to God now. Come, pleading the death of Jesus for you—He will receive you, He will find joy in it. Will you receive Christ? On His part He has said, “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37). It was said of Him, “This Man receiveth sinners!” (Luke 15:2), and ’tis true of Him today.

Does that drunkard inquire if the Lord will receive him? The Savior answers: “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.”

Does that pleasure seeking worldling inquire? Jesus saith, “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.”

Does that religious but unconverted man inquire? The Lord answers, “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.”

My friends, the Lord turns away none who come to Him. Come, then—come now, and you shall be forgiven, justified and saved forever. Then you also shall be able to sing:

“On the Lamb my soul is resting;

What His love no tongue can say:

All my sins, so great, so many,

In His blood are washed away.

“Sweetest rest and peace have filled me,

Sweeter praise than tongue can tell;

God is satisfied with Jesus,

I am satisfied as well.”

—R. DIXON EDWARDS.

* * * * *

“This same Jesus” (Acts 1:11) says to you today, “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37).

“Still shall the keyword ringing,

Echo the same sweet ‘Come!’

‘Come!’ with the blessed myriads.

Safe in the Father’s Home;

‘Come!’ for the toil is over;

‘Come’ for the feast is spread;

‘Come!’ for the crown of glory

Waits for the weary head.”

The Closing Message

“Prepare to meet thy God!” (Amos 4:12). These words may have sounded through the green alleys of Paradise, and have caused no discord there, for the crown of Paradise was the presence of the Lord God. But they have not always that sweet ring. They are words of caution to the vast majority of men.

“Prepare to meet thy God!” You have seen others die; you have had sicknesses in your own body; you have already passed through many perils. What are all these but voices from the God of mercy, saying, “Consider your ways?” You are not such a simpleton as to think that you shall never die. Neither are you so insane as to think that when you die, your death will be that of a horse or a dog. You know there is a hereafter, and a state of being in which men shall be judged according to the deeds that they have done in the body.

“Prepare to meet thy God!” That summons will come to each, and when it comes it will mean that at such a time, and such an hour, and at such a moment, the spirit must return to God who gave it. You must assuredly meet your Creator, whose rights you have ignored; your Preserver, to whom you have rendered no kind of recompense; your King, whose Name, it may be, you have blasphemed. You have lived in open revolt against His righteous laws, but you will certainly meet Him. No exemption will be possible. Prepared, or unprepared, at the sound of the resurrection trumpet you must appear at His bar.

“Prepare to meet thy God!” It will be an inevitable meeting. From your fellow creature whom you do not wish to see, you readily withdraw yourself, but you cannot escape from God. You must meet face to face your God. What if there be angels, what if there be ten thousand times ten thousands of your kindred sinners? Yet to you, virtually, it shall be solitude itself. You must meet your God, you, YOU!

How can a man be prepared to meet God? We are, today, like prisoners who are waiting for the trial, and the news has come that the Judge is ready, and we, the prisoners, are to prepare to meet Him. Now, what is the right way to prepare to meet a judge? If any of you can plead “Not guilty,” your preparation is made; but there is not one man who dares think of that. We have sinned, great God, and we confess the sin. What preparation, then, can we make? Suppose we sit down and investigate our case. Can we plead extenuations? Can we urge excuses or mitigations, or hope to escape by promises of future improvement? Let us give up the attempt. We have gone astray willfully and wickedly, and it is of no use for us to set up any kind of defense that is grounded upon ourselves.

How, then, can we be prepared to meet our God? Hearken! There is an Advocate. “If any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous” (1 John 2:1). Let us send for Him. We, poor prisoners, lying waiting in the cells, send for Jesus the Son of God to be our Intercessor and Advocate! Will He undertake our cause? Yes, He will accept the office; for He has said, “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37). And what doth He plead? Here is His argument: “My Father,” saith He, “I stood of old in the room, place and stead of these who have committed their case to My hands, and who plead guilty at Thy judgment seat. I suffered for their sins. I bore that they might never bear Thy righteous wrath. I satisfied Thy law on their behalf. I claim, My Father, that they go free.” The infinite Majesty admits the plea. If your case is in the hands of Christ, and you confess your guilt, do you not see how He sets you free so that you may be prepared to meet your God? Because you can plead the blood of Jesus, the atonement of the great Substitute for sinners, and covered with that substitution you can stand accepted in the Beloved. You are justified by faith which is in Him, all your iniquities being blotted out.

Oh, see ye not what it is to be prepared to meet God! For now we have a good case, now we are not afraid of the last trials. Our case is in the hands of a blessed Advocate, whose pleading must prevail. All that you and I have to do now is to prove by our actions that we really have believed in Christ. Let us go on to justify our faith, if indeed our faith has justified us. Let us prove the sincerity of our confidence in Christ by the holiness of our lives, by the devotedness of those lives to His honor and glory.

—C. H. SPURGEON

Come Thou - Come Now-Come Unto Me

THE STORY IS ONE of the oldest in the world! “Come thou and all thy house into the ark” (Gen. 7:1).

Who is to come?

COME THOU!

How urgent are the words! You are either inside or outside the Ark.

“One door and only one,

And yet its sides are two—

Inside and outside,

On which side are you?

One door and only one,

And yet its sides are two—

I’m on the inside,

On which side are you?”

Inside is safety, peace and joy; outside is certain, inevitable destruction. Are you being deceived by the great enemy that you are inside when you still find your enjoyment in the pleasures of sin? “If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new” (2 Cor. 5:17). If “old things” have not passed away, you are not in Christ, and if you are not in Christ, you are not in the Ark.

“Come thou into the Ark!” The door is held wide open by the God of all grace, and over that open door-way is one blessed word, “COME!”

“Yet there is room! The Lamb’s bright hall of song,

With its fair glory beckons thee along.

“Yet there is room! Still open stands the gate,

The gate of love; it is not yet too late.

“Pass in, pass in! That banquet is for thee;

That cup of everlasting love is free.

“Ere night that gate may close and seal thy doom,

Then the last, low, long cry—'No room, no room'!”

At any moment the door may be shut forever, and over its portals one dread word will meet your terror stricken eyes, “Depart!”

“The rising tempest sweeps the sky,

The rain descends, the winds are high;

The waters swell, and death and fear

Beset thy path, no refuge near;

Haste, traveler, haste!

“Oh, haste! a shelter you may gain.

A covert from the wind and rain;

A hiding-place, a rest, a home.

A refuge from the wrath to come,

Haste, traveler, haste!”

When are you to “Come”?

COME NOW! (Isa. 1:18).

How long shall you wait before you come? Even now it is in your mind to come to Christ, but your thoughts carry you to some far-off time, when “earth’s joys grow dim,” and as one of the “last things” to consider, you seek to prepare for Eternity.

Stop! ’Tis the reasoning of fools! What if God sends forth His summons that this night your soul will be required of you? (Luke 12:20). What then?

“Behold, NOW is the accepted time; behold, NOW is the day of salvation” (2 Cor. 6:2).

To Whom shall you “Come"?

COME UNTO ME! (Matt. 11:28).

“Art thou weary, art thou languid,

Art thou sore distrest?

‘Come to me,’ saith One, ‘and coming,

Be at rest'!”

Here is the free and unlimited offer of rest from Him who alone has the ability to bestow it. He first offers rest of conscience to those who simply come in faith to Him, and to those who come He has promised “in no wise to cast out.” Then He gives rest of heart from the trials of the way, to all who take His yoke upon themselves and learn of Him. They prove His yoke is easy and His burden is light (Matt. 11:30).

When Robert Lamb, an account of whose life is given in “A Casket of Cameos,” returned to Australia after working among the natives of the New Hebrides, he took his place on a log by the roadside to talk to the swagmen as they labored along with the load or “swag” slung by a shoulder-gear to the back. Engaging them with thrilling accounts of his adventures in the South Seas, he won their confidence, and then gave them this text, only he gave it to them in the language they could understand: “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 shoulder-gear is easy and My swag is light” (Matt. 11:28-30).

"Come Unto Me"

WHAT POWER AND SWEETNESS in this little word “Come!” How it lets us into the very secret of the bosom of God, and tells of the loving desire of His heart that any and every poor lost one who hears it, should take Him at His word, and “Come.” “Ho, 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” (Isa. 55:1).

Here, every thirsty, needy, penniless one is invited to come. It is the desire of the loving heart of God that he should come—come now—come just as he is, and drink at the living fountain of water, so freely opened by the hand of redeeming love. There is no hindrance. Grace has removed every difficulty out of the way. The very fact of God’s sending forth the invitation to come, proves that He has taken away every barrier. He would not—He could not—say “Come,” if the way were not perfectly open—perfectly free. And not only so, but we may rest assured that when God says “Come,” He means what He says. He expresses the language of His heart. In a word, not only is the way open, but God earnestly desires that every thirsty needy, helpless soul that reads these lines should come now and drink—come and draw water out of those wells of salvation which are freely opened to every creature under heaven.

Take another lovely passage culled from the prophet Isaiah. “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isa. 1:18). Here, it is not merely a question of thirst and poverty, but actually of scarlet sin—guilt of crimson dye. Even these need be no hindrance, seeing that God, in His infinite grace, has found a means whereby He can righteously cleanse the guilt and blot out the sins, and render the soul of the poor guilty sinner as white as snow, as the wool just from the washing.

And let the reader specially mark the grace that shines in the words, “Come now, and let us reason together.” Only think of the high and mighty One that inhabiteth eternity—the Maker of heaven and earth—the Creator and Sustainer of the universe—the One who has power to destroy both soul and body in hell —think of His condescending to reason with a poor, guilty sinner, covered from head to foot with scarlet sins! What loving kindness and tender mercy! Who can withstand it? Who can refuse to come? Who will harden his heart against such love as this? God grant the reader may not do so! Oh, that he may come now and trust in the perfect, because divine, efficacy of that most precious blood—even the blood of God’s own Son, which cleanseth FROM ALL SIN, and makes the soul clean enough to stand in the full blaze of the holiness of God.

Take a sentence or two from the Gospel—from the very lips of Him who spake as never man spake—the lips of our adorable Savior and Lord. “Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28).

Here the laboring and the heavy laden are called to hearken to the same most touching, gracious, winning word, “Come!” Every weary, burdened heart, every crushed and broken spirit, is invited to come to Jesus, who alone is able, and willing—willing as He is able, and able as He is willing—to give rest. What a soothing word is “REST!” How it falls upon the poor heart like showers upon the parched and thirsty ground!

Reader, do come, we beseech you. Come now, and have your thirst quenched, your burden removed, your sins forgiven, your guilt canceled. Come, we earnestly entreat you, now. Do not linger. Time is so short. Eternity, with all its tremendous realities, is at hand. Oh, do COME NOW!

Note:—There are two rests spoken of in Matthew 11:28-30, which must not be confounded. There is the rest which Christ GIVES to all who come to Him; and the rest which we FIND by taking His blessed yoke upon us and learning His precious lessons. Many there are who hold up the yoke of Christ before the poor burdened sinner as something which he must take on him in order to be saved. This is a great mistake. We must first come, just as we are, to Christ, who freely gives rest to the weary. Then in learning of Him, to be subject in all things to the Father’s will, we find rest. The one is rest of conscience; the other, rest of heart. —C. H. M.

"Come Unto Me and I Will Give You Rest"

“Come unto Me and I will give you rest:”

What blessed words to weary ones addressed!

They come from Him who knew the depths of woe,

And felt for sinners as none here below.

“Come unto Me;” yes, come in all your sin!

Through Jesus’ blood the vile may enter in,

May come to God, by perfect grace thus led,

Assured that for themselves that blood was shed.

“Come unto Me:” the blessed Son of God

Thus told on earth, in ev’ry step He trod.

The heart of Him who is in nature love,

And is beseeching men that love to prove.

“Come unto Me;” yes, God Himself says “Come!”

He sees afar and runs to welcome home

Unworthy sinners who have naught to plead

But God’s own love and their exceeding need.

“Come unto Me;” oh, blessed open door

For those who but for Christ had hoped no more!

Oh, love of God told out in full extent,

When Jesus to those depths of darkness went!

“Come unto Me;” for Christ the risen Lord

Now speaks from glory through the written Word;

As Victor now He can with triumph shout,

That none who come to Him will He cast out.—ANON.

"'Come Unto Me!' It is the Savior's Voice"

“Come unto Me!” it is the Savior’s voice.

The Lord of life who bids thy heart rejoice!

O weary soul, with heavy cares oppressed.

Come unto Him, and He will give thee rest!

Weary with life’s long struggle, full of pain,

O doubting soul, thy Savior calls again!

Thy doubts shall vanish, and thy sorrows cease—

Come unto Him, and He will give thee peace!

O dying man, with guilt and sin dismayed,

With conscience wakened, of thy God afraid!

Turn from thy fears! O end the anxious strife—

Come unto Him, and He will give thee life!

Rest, peace and life, sweet flowers of deathless bloom,

The Savior giveth—not beyond the tomb,

But here and now, on earth, firstfruits are giv’n,

Of joys which wait beyond the gates of heav’n!

—NATHANIEL NORTON

"Did He not say, 'Him that Cometh'?"

UP TO THE AGE of sixteen I was quite heathen as far as the Gospel was concerned. I never went to a place of worship, and thought all who did go hypocrites. I was never made to read the Bible. I knew there was a God, but nothing more. I could not have told you who Jesus Christ was. You marvel at this, but it was true of many girls who were situated as myself.

One Sunday night, however, I had such a longing to go to a place of worship. I said to my brother: “Oh! Sid, I feel as if I would like to go to chapel; do come with me.”

My brother laughed at the request. “Why, Edith,” said he, “what has put that in your head?” My family was immensely amused that I, of all persons, should want to go, as I was such a wild girl, and the leader in all the fun.

After a deal of persuasion my brother came with me. We went to a large chapel, and sat in the back seat. My brother thought the preacher was never going to leave off. It was all new to him. During the service he said, “If this is coming to church, I will never come again. I was silly to come.” At last the service ended.

“Oh! Sid,” I said, “that man did make me feel uncomfortable.”

“Now, Edith, don’t you begin, for I have had quite enough. Never do I come again.”

“Nor will I,” I said.

I thought no more about it until the next Sunday came, when I felt I must go, so again I pleaded with my brother to come with me. It never dawned on me to go by myself. So I pleaded and pleaded with him to come with me.

At last he put his clothes on and came. We went to the same chapel, sat in the same seat. The same thing happened again. I felt so uncomfortable; my brother rather annoyed with himself for coming.

When the service was over, I said to him, “I will never, never come again.”

“You said that last week,” he said. “I know that nothing or nobody will get me to come again.”

So, home we both went. I forgot to mention that my father was practically an atheist.

I never thought about it all the next week until the time for evening service came on. Again I felt I must go. And, oh! how I pleaded for Sid to come with me. He did, but very unwillingly, as you can imagine.

We went to the same chapel, sat in the same seat. As I sat there I knew I was a lost soul. Now nobody had spoken to me, but I knew if I had died that night I should have gone straight to hell. I think the text must have been: “Ye must be born again” (John 3:7) from what followed. I knew I was a sinner, but as yet I knew nothing of Christ’s salvation.

As soon as we got outside, I said to my brother, “Oh, Sid, if we die tonight we shall both go straight to hell.”

He looked at me and said, “Oh! whatever is the matter with you?”

We went home. My brother hung up his hat and coat, but I paced up and down our large kitchen with my things on. At last my brother came out and said: “Edie, take your things off and come in.”

“Sid,” I said despairingly, “I am going to see that man who preached tonight.”

My brother looked at me and said, “All right, Edie, I will go with you.” I never felt such love for him in all my life as I did at that moment.

So together we proceeded to the chapel, and as it happened, the preacher was then coming out. I went up to him and said, “Oh! sir, I want to be baptized.” I thought baptism would save me. The good minister looked at me, and then, oh! how can I write it, for the first time in my life I heard with understanding the story of Calvary. He spoke to me of the Savior, and told me of His love, how He loved ME.

I said, “Oh! sir, but I have not given Him a thought all my life. I have cared nothing for Him.”

Very tenderly and lovingly He said, “My child, the Lord loves you, and died for you.”

For me! for me! Oh, I could not tell you how I felt. In my joy I shook my brother and said, “Oh, Sid, listen to the Good News!” “Oh! what must I do?” I asked.

The minister took out his Bible and read me some verses. This was one: “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37).

“Oh! sir,” I said, “I will come this moment,” and my first prayer was, “Lord, save me, a sinner, and save my brother, too.”

I rose from my knees, and the minister said to me, “Have you trusted Him? Do you believe that you are saved?”

“Why of course!” I replied, “did He not say, ‘Him that cometh'? and I have come.”

In my joy I ran all the way home with my brother, burst in upon our astounded family circle, and said, “I am saved. I have found Jesus Christ.” I went everywhere telling them. I thought nobody knew the Good News. I believe today as I believed then—if only they knew Christ they must love Him.

Someone reading the foregoing might say, “But does it last?” Well, it is many years since I came to Christ. I can say from the depths of my being that ever since I heard the wonderful message of God’s redeeming love that it has been the joy of my life to tell it to others. There is no joy in the world like watching and seeing its power transform lives as it transformed mine. I have seen drunkards, gamblers, swearers—men and women of all kinds and conditions—come under its influence, and the result has been wonderful. A new creature in Christ, the Lord Jesus Christ does not reform their lives, He makes them anew, pardoning and forgetting their past. Wonderful message—saving and raising all—ALL who will accept it.

“If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new” (2 Cor. 5:17).

“Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37). “Come unto Me... and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28). —Edith Goreham

A Faithful Son / Another "Wonder" in the Deep.

IT IS FOR the purpose of giving you a copy of a letter written by a young man (a friend of mine) to his mother, that I write these few lines. He left London last October on board a ship bound for Calcutta, and at that time was as gay and careless as to his soul’s salvation as any young man at the age of nineteen well could be. If the name of Jesus was ever mentioned to him by his relations, it most certainly was very seldom, for it is the enjoyment of this world they are seeking after, and not Christ. But the Lord sought after him, and found him on the deep ocean. The steward was a Christian, and it was through his instrumentality that the writer of this letter found the Lord. His heart is (as you may see) so full of Christ that he gives us no information about himself. He has found Him, who alone fully and perfectly satisfies the heart, and who fills it with joy and gladness; and now his desire is that others may find Him. He writes as follows:

“Written at Sea:

-Calcutta, 4th February, 1874.

“My dearest mother:—

“I have again arrived here, and am in the best health imaginable, as I hope this letter will find you and all my dear sisters. In this letter I am going to tell you something that I trust will make you rejoice, and which, I thank God, He has spared me to tell. You know I was on the point of not coming by this ship last voyage, but I am so glad that I did, for when I look back I can see God’s hand in it all; for it has pleased Him to draw me by the cords of His love to believe on Jesus Christ, my Savior, whom I am not ashamed to own. Oh, dear mother, He has drawn the scales from my eyes, He has shown me my own vileness, and has given me faith to believe and be saved—aye, saved! Oh, how I wish that all of us, as a family, could say this! I know that my dear earthly father had this faith, and that he trusted in Christ for salvation. My prayers are for you and my dear sisters, that it may be so with them; but, my dear mother, they are not being taught aright; they think that by going to church, receiving the sacrament, and by their own good works, they will go to heaven. It is a fearful mistake; they cannot be justified by the works of the law. We cannot keep the commandments. Oh, that God in His infinite mercy may show them their true state! May He lead them to the foot of the cross, that they may trust alone in Him who died for them, and washed away sins in His own precious blood. Oh, that they would believe this!

“Dear mother, let me ask you to write at once and tell them this, and let me also ask you, Are you saved? Or how do you think you can be saved? You say, If I keep the commandments, or try to keep them, I will be saved. Now, if only one commandment had to be kept for salvation, tell me who could be saved? Dear mother, redemption through the blood of Christ is a very different thing from our trying to keep the commandments. We must first have redemption through the blood of Christ, even the forgiveness of sins. Obedience will follow; not obedience to law-keeping for your salvation, for you are saved directly you believe. Oh, that I could speak more clearly. You have some indistinct thought that it is something you have to do for God that will save you. Oh, no! It is what Christ has done for us. God has said: ‘Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them’ (Gal. 3:10). And you know that you cannot continue in them. Again and again you have tried, but all in vain. You cannot even be what you wish, much less what God requires. But ‘God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life’ (John 3:16). Yes; the death of Christ is God’s own remedy for sin: to deny it, or doubt it, is to make Him a liar. The Apostle Paul says, If we are justified by keeping the law, then Christ is dead in vain (Gal. 2:21). Oh, what wondrous love, dear mother, that He who knew no sin was made sin for us (2 Cor. 5:13). How simple! So simple that people won’t believe it.

“You will no doubt say, ‘I do believe on Him; I was taught to believe on Him; but I was not taught that by believing I was saved everlastingly.’ I wish I could clearly impress on your mind the need of a substitute. Oh, that I could get you to accept Jesus as that substitute! Read Romans 3:23; Matthew 11:28; John 6:37; Galatians 3:10; 1 John 1:7; 1 Timothy 1:15; John 1:29. My dear mother, if you believed this you would have told me long ago, and would not have seen me standing on the brink of destruction. You have other children. Warn them that they may be led to consider this important matter. What care I what the world may say? If we are ashamed of Christ, He will be ashamed of us. And mind, it is not an easy way; it is full of trial and trouble; but only for a little while, and then—Oh, when Jesus comes again to gather His saints, we will meet Him in the air; we will be like Him forever and ever. Cannot we, then, bear to suffer a little, and be laughed at by the world? The servant cannot be greater than his Lord, so as Jesus was rebuked and scorned, so must we, His brethren and sisters, heirs of heaven, and joint-heirs with Christ, suffer with Him. But God will give us that peace which passeth all understanding. He will dwell in us, and we will serve Him who has done all for us, and will not grieve Him.

“My own darling mother, I hope that you and I may meet together at His personal return, when He comes for us. The day is not far off when He will come; but we must remember that He said, ‘Lo, I come quickly.’ He is now gathering in those ordained from the beginning to eternal life. May God, in His mercy, bless this letter to the saving of your soul, for Jesus’ sake, Amen. I hope you will read and think over what I have written. My prayers are for you and all.

“I remain, my dear mother,

“Your affectionate son.”

And now, beloved reader, my prayer is that the Lord may not only have blessed this letter to the conversion of the mother and sisters of this young man, but to you who read it, and know not that your sins have been washed away in the precious blood of Christ. May you find no rest till you can say, “He died for me.”

Yes, He died for you, and He longs to have you as His own. Do not delay any longer, I beseech you, but just come to Jesus as you are, and He will in no wise cast you out. His words are: “Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28). Think of the many thousands that go down to hell, having heard the gospel, and meaning to come to Jesus at some more convenient season, which Satan takes good care shall never come. “Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation” (2 Cor. 6:2). You cannot tell how much longer the Lord will wait before He closes forever this day of salvation; but remember it is either forever with Jesus in the glory, or forever in that world of torment without Him.

—Beacon Lights

* * * * *

│ DOWN—Because too high up Luke 19:5.

│ IN—For the Gospel Feast Luke 14:23.

│ UNTO—For Rest Matthew 11:28.

COME │ AFTER—For Example Matthew 16:24.

│ OUT—For Separation 2 Corinthians 6:17.

│ UP—For Eternal Glory Revelation 4:1.

FOREWORD

ONE OF THE sweetest words in the English language is “Come.” It is a word of entreaty, an invitation to draw near, consent or yield. It finds a large place in the Sacred Scriptures. From the day that God called Noah into the ark, to the last invitation of the Spirit of God to every human creature under Heaven, the invitation to “Come” runs like a golden chain through the volume of the Book.

One of the links in that chain is found in John’s Gospel: “Him, that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37). We might call it a jeweled link, for the Lord’s words “in no wise cast out” have a sweetness and an assurance which have been of untold comfort to thousands of souls. He might have said, “I will not cast out,” but the words in the original translated “in no wise” are said to be a double negative, strengthening the affirmation as much as even the Lord Himself could strengthen it. Why did our Lord use such an especially strong expression? It is to doubly assure any trembling soul, for the Savior desires that we should not fear. It shows us the heart of that Savior. They are the words of the Holy Son of God, addressed to all men everywhere; addressed, dear reader, to you.

The incidents which make up this unpretentious book have been gleaned from various fields, and but prove the welcome which those found who came in child-like faith to Christ. And you, into whose hands this collection of facts has fallen, you who are still out of Christ and away from God, we earnestly and affectionately entreat: Come to Him NOW. A Royal Welcome awaits you from Him who died that you might live. How will you treat His invitation?

O word, of words the sweetest,

O words, in which there lie

All promise, all fulfillment,

And end of mystery!

Lamenting or rejoicing,

With doubt or terror nigh,

I hear the ‘Come’ of Jesus,

And to His cross I fly.”

—F. B. TOMKINSON

"Him That Cometh Unto Me"

Listen to the blessed invitation,

Sweeter than the notes of angel-song,

Chiming softly with a heav’nly cadence.

Calling to the passing throng.

Him that cometh unto Me,

Him that cometh unto Me.

I will in no wise cast out.

Weary toiler, sad and heavy laden,

Joyfully the great salvation see;

Close beside thee stands the Burden-Bearer,

Strong to bear thy load for thee.

Come, ye thirsty, to the living waters,

Hungry, come and on His bounty feed;

Not thy fitness is the plea to bring Him,

But thy pressing utmost need.

“Him that cometh,” blind or maimed or sinful,

Coming for His healing touch divine,

For the cleansing of the blood so precious,

Prove anew this gracious line.

Coming humbly, daily to this Savior,

Breathing all the heart to Him in pray'r;

Coming some day to the heav’nly mansions,

He will give thee welcome there.

—E. E. HEWITT.

"His Wonders in the Deep"

“They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; these see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep” (Psa. 107:23-24).

THE TEXT HAS BEEN employed on the “great deep,” and the power of it is interestingly told by Frank Bullen in the story of the conversion of two of his Scotch shipmates:

Fortunately for me I found myself in the same watch as Jem and the smart young Scotchmen, Ballantyne and Turner. The two latter, though possessing not the slightest pretense to be considered godly, were most amiable fellows as well as being hard-working seamen. And when they found that not only could I do my duty with the best of them, but that I never hung back from a job, they showed their satisfaction in unmistakable fashion, and we were as comfortable together as four men could possibly be. Jem they teased unmercifully at times, but quite good-naturedly. That was only to be expected, as according to his own confession he had been just a rowdy ruffian on the passage out, and many of his doings still remained fresh in their minds. It was easy to see, however, that they were much puzzled at his sweetness of temper, his uniform cheerfulness, and his eagerness to do all that in him lay to justify his high profession. Nothing could shake his steadfast joy.

We had rough weather almost immediately after leaving Port Chalmers, and as usual shipped a lot of water. One afternoon, just as we had finished dinner, Jem stepped out of the fo’castle (I call it fo’castle from force of habit, though it was a house in the middle of the main deck), and as he did so a big sea came hurtling over the side and drenched him to the skin. He started to run forward, and with all his force he struck the bare toes on his right foot against a bolt of iron sticking up three inches out of the deck. All he said was, “T’ank God, t’ank God!”

When he returned to the shelter of the fo’castle, Ballantyne said cheerfully: “Fat’s gane wrang wi’ ye, mahn? Are ye strucken doomb? Let’s hae a few bit prayer frae ye. Ye haena forgotten hoe to say them sewerly?”—meaning, I take it, some of the blasphemous expressions that would have rushed in a torrent from his mouth at such an accident on the passage out.

But Jem’s reply was as unexpected by his tormenter as it was disconcerting, for he dropped upon his knees immediately and cried: “Dear Fader Gott, You know I haf been zo bat, zo fery bat, I have been blag like pitch. I tink bat, speak bat, do bat all day, efery day. Unt den You make me know you lofe me; You make me see mineselluf yoost as I was, unt I been afrait. But now I know—glory to Gott!—I know de blag sin is gone; I am all nice unt vite inside, unt I don’t afrait any more. Unt Billy ask me to pray liddle, tank You so much, dear Yesus, for dat. I vill be glad to break my feets efery day for dat, if I might get de shanse to pring him along to You. Dear Himmelsky Fader, pless him, unt save him, unt pless unt save Bob, too, unt all my dear shipmates, unt all my dear broders unt sesters in Port Chalmers, unt may ve all come togedder in You big House up clere soon, for Yesus Christ’s sake, Amen.”

My hearty “Amen” echoed his, but besides that there was no sound. Our two watchmates were profoundly impressed, and I fancied I could see a tear glittering in Ballantyne’s eye. As for Jem, his face was shining, and the tears were streaming down as if, indeed, the wellspring of living waters had risen so high that it was visibly overflowing. Not another word was spoken. We all turned in and were soon asleep....

So the days rolled delightfully by until it came to pass one night that I was sitting on the capstan on the fo’castle head, keeping my lookout, my gaze fixed upon the dim blue vacancy ahead. I was softly singing, ‘God loved the world of sinners lost,’ and enjoying myself indescribably. The vessel was only moving through the water about four knots an hour, and from the absence of swell she was so steady that her progress was almost motionless.

Suddenly into my meditations came the sound of a broken voice, and turning sharply around, I saw Ballantyne standing near. By the bright light of the moon I could see that his rugged face was working, all its jovial dimples were gone, and down his cheeks big tears chased each other. Now one thing is always noticeable in the truly converted man or woman—their hearts grow very soft, their pity great, for any one in distress. So I was deeply moved, and, springing off my perch, I clutched his hand, eagerly inquiring what was the matter. All that he could say was that he was an awful sinner. He wanted to tell me what his life had been, but I would not hear. I told him that I had no right to be his confessor, and that his telling me could do no good. Maybe I was wrong, but that was how I felt about it. What I could do to comfort him I did, telling him exactly how I had found peace, and assuring him that he need not weary himself in trying to force an open door — that the Lord was far more anxious for him to come than he was— deeply stirred as I could see him to be. I was afraid to talk too much, however, because I had seen people actually confused out of all comprehension, and I had been taught by experience that at the supreme moment of the birth of a soul the nurse must stand aside and allow the Physician to do His work unhindered. There will be plenty of scope for nursing afterward. I believe we stood in perfect silence for about ten minutes while I was sending up an incessant stream of wordless petitions that it might please the Lord to set this anxious soul at liberty.

Presently he spoke: “Tom, lad, let’s hae a bit pray'r frae ye.”

I gladly responded, but even as I knelt I could not help remembering the occasion, so shortly before, when he had put almost the same request to Jem in the hope of hearing that much-tried man give vent to his feelings in some of the foul words that had been his usual speech. Resolutely pushing away the hindering reflection, I said:

“Dear Father, here’s poor Willie Ballantyne brought face to face with You at last. You’ve done it Yourself, and no one but himself can prevent him from being set free. I needn’t ask You to save him; You’ve done all that; but I do ask You to make him see that it is so. Loving Lord, You’ve been pleading with him for a long time; make him give up struggling against You; make him as happy as You make everybody who give themselves right up to You. And we’ll bless You and praise You with all our hearts, with all the new words and powers You give us. Amen.”

I had no sooner finished speaking than Ballantyne broke in:

“Lord Jesus Christ, I ken Ye’ve sauvit me. I cannot feel’t; ma heid’s all dizzy like; but I’m believin’ wut Ye’ve said about not ca’asting oot ony puir vratch ‘at comes t’Ye. A’am’s bad’s ah can be, a drucken, swearin’, feckless loun; there is na onythin’ tae be said fur ma ’at’s guid. But ah ken fine ’at Ye love me fur all ahm sae bad. Here ah a’am, take ma, an’ mak somethin’ oot o’ ma, fur ah’ve made an awfu’ mess o’ mysel. Amen.”

Then springing to his feet, he kissed me, while I hardly knew whether I was in the body or out of it. All I knew and realized most profoundly was that He who came to do the will of His Father was doing it now, and no one else had any hand in the wonderful work at all.

As soon as ever we had quieted down, if that be the correct expression to use where all had been so quiet, I said: “May I go and tell Jem, Willy?” “Aye,” he answered readily, “ye may that, Tom.”

In a moment I sprang off the fo’castle and flew around the corner of the house, coming crash up against Jem’s broad chest with a force that nearly knocked all the breath out of my body. What little remained was speedily dispersed, for Jem, flinging those long arms of his around me, gave me a hug like that of a grizzly bear, so that I hung limp and helpless across his body while he gasped in broken tones:

“Bob’s foun’ de Lord. Bob’s foun’ de Lord.”

Then my condition alarmed him, and he set me gently down, full of solicitude as to whether he had hurt me. I thought my ribs were cracked, but, finding I was all right, I eagerly inquired how this strange thing had come about. He told me that for the last hour he had been pleading with Bob in consequence of a question the latter had put to him almost identical with that asked me by Ballantyne. And this was the result. Then I told him my wonderful news, and for a few moments I thought he would have a fit. In the midst of our mutual rejoicings our two chums joined us, and from thence till eight bells we had such a prayer meeting as I had never attended before or since.

The bell brought it to a close, but when we were relieved and went below we could not sleep. We sat up in our bunks and sang as if we would burst our breasts, as the bird sang, of whom George Macdonald says:

“Glad is so glad that it turns to ache:

Out with it, song, or my heart will break.”

Our shipmates of the other watch came in and looked sourly at us, the big German especially. How well I remember his sarcastic question: “Vell, you all goes mat, ain’d id?” When we tried to tell them what had happened, they went out firmly convinced that we had gone mad, and muttering disgustedly. But what did we care? What did anything matter now? The Lord had lifted up the light of His countenance upon us, and our cups were overflowing. It was the tongue of the dumb singing. But to try and explain it would be as easy as making a color-blind man appreciate the glories of a tropical sunset.

—From “With Christ at Sea.”

How Charlotte Elliot Came

CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT, of Brighton, England, was visiting some friends in the West End of London, and there met the eminent minister, Caesar Malan, of Geneva. During the visit, the minister said he hoped she was a Christian. She resented it, but afterward, stricken in spirit by his words, came to him with apologies and an inquiry that confessed a new concern of mind. “You speak of coming to Jesus, but how? I’m not fit to come.”

“Come just as you are,” said Dr. Malan.

This she did, and went away rejoicing. Shortly afterward she wrote the hymn, “Just as I am without one Plea.” It was first published in the “Invalid’s Hymn-book” in 1836.

* * * * *

Illustrative of the way this hymn appeals to the afflicted, a little anecdote was told by the eloquent John B. Gough of his accidental seat-mate in a city church service. A man of strange appearance was led by the kind usher or sexton to the pew he occupied. Mr. Gough eyed him with strong aversion. The man’s face was mottled, his limbs and mouth twitched, and he mumbled singular sounds. When the congregation sang he attempted to sing, but made fearful work of it. During the organ interlude he leaned toward Mr. Gough and asked how the next verse began. It was—“Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind.”

“That’s it,” sobbed the strange man, “I’m blind—God help me!”—and the tears ran down his face—“and I’m wretched—and paralytic,” and then he tried hard to sing the line with the rest.

“After that,” said Mr. Gough, “the poor paralytic’s singing was as sweet to me as a Beethoven symphony.”

* * * * *

Just as I am, without one plea,

But that Thy blood was shed for me,

And that Thou bidst me come to Thee,

O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am, and waiting not

To rid my soul of one dark blot,

To Thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,

O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind.

Sight, riches, healing of the mind,

Yea, all I need, in Thee to find,

O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,

Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;

Because Thy promise I believe,

O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am, Thy love unknown

Hath broken ev’ry barrier down;

Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone.

O Lamb of God, I come!

"I Know He Won't Cast Me Out"

THE FIRST TIME I saw Mrs.—was at a meeting where her deep attention to the message of God’s grace then proclaimed interested me, and when on leaving she said with evident emotion, “Oh, that I had heard words like these four months ago when I was ill!” I resolved, the Lord willing, to visit her at home as soon as possible. This I did and was heartily welcome; I found her open to conversation about her soul’s eternal welfare. She had been very ill for some months, and during that time of suffering, her heart, which had hitherto been content with the form of godliness, was made to feel its need; anxiety seized her soul and she sought peace, but where it never can be found, by strivings of her own, and was as far from knowing it when I met her as when she first commenced the search. You may ask, Is that true? I answer, Indeed it is. Man’s doings must entirely cease ere peace with God can be known; as it is written, “Being justified by faith we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom. 5:1). “Now to him that worketh is the reward not reckoned of grace but of debt. But to him that worketh not, but believeth on Him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness” (Rom. 4:4-5). “And if by grace, then it is no more of works, otherwise grace is no more grace” (Rom. 11:6).

Think not of doing aught to please God when He has told us in the Word that “they that are in the flesh,” “dead in trespasses and sins,” children of the first Adam, “cannot please God” (Rom. 8:8) and what is more, Jesus Christ has left nothing for you to do. He said upon the cross, “It is finished” (John 19:30).

“When He from His lofty throne,

Stoop’d to do and die;

Everything was fully done,

Hearken to His cry—

‘It is finished.’ Yes, indeed!

Finished every jot;

Sinner, this is all you need;

Tell me. is it not?”

He came into this dark scene to do the will of God, and to restore that which He took not away (Psa. 69:4), but of which man came short, and robbed God of—even His glory. This perfect One to whom the Father bore testimony, saying, “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased,” who “knew no sin,” was put to death—“made sin for us” (2 Cor. 5:21), but God raised Him up, and seated Him at His own right hand in glory. And now the question for you is, Do you know Him? Do you believe that Jesus Christ who was crucified in weakness and raised by the mighty power of God, is the Son of God? Have you accepted, or have you rejected the “great salvation” He offers to all who believe on Him?

Mrs.—told me that she had heard of our meeting through another, and had earnestly longed to come, thinking that there she would hear words which would give rest to her troubled soul. She had set out for this purpose, but Satan hindered and turned her steps aside by means of a friend. Again, another week, she ventured, and again the adversary met her, and succeeded (this time by a sister) in sending her back. Once more she determined to come, and once more the enemy of souls tried his best to restrain by sending her daughter to meet her in the way; but this time she was not to be hindered, She sent her daughter home to wait her return.

I prayed, conversed, and read God’s Word with her, and then left; I did not see her again for more than three weeks, and then the Lord sent me with His own message fresh and warm from Himself. He said, Go, and I went, not knowing what I should say, but looking to Him to charge me with the right ammunition. I found her at home, and met with the same hearty welcome as at the first. She had been to the hospital as an out-patient several times, and still looked thin and weak. After inquiring as to her health, I alluded to the state of her soul, and asked if she had found peace in believing. No, she said; but she felt confident she should some day. I told her this was the enemy’s work, that God’s word was Now. She then related an anecdote she had heard on this very subject, about a young man, who when requested by some one to meet him for conversation about his soul in the morning said, “I can’t wait till another time, I want it Now.” I felt the power of the Lord was present to heal this wounded soul. It was wonderful to see the eagerness with which she listened with eyes intently fixed upon me, to the words He enabled me to speak, and the cry of her heart was, “I understand what you tell me, but somehow I can’t say it’s mine.” I repeated the oft-heard words which now seemed clothed with life-giving energy, “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37), and illustrated them by saying, “If there were to be a school treat next week, and your little girl came to you and said, ‘Mother, may I go to the treat?’ and you told her, ‘Yes,’ what would you think if every day she came and repeated the same words, ‘Mother, may I go to the treat?' " She replied, evidently struck with the thought, “Why, I should feel she did not believe me.”

“Just so,” I said. “You are making God a liar when you say you come to Christ, and then hope to be saved some day.”

“Oh, but,” she said, “I do believe He won’t cast me out.”

“Yes,” I replied, “but there’s one thing you have never yet believed—not only that He won’t cast you out, but that He has taken you in.”

I went to the door, but before finally leaving I turned and looking at her said, “Do you believe that He has taken you in?”

“I do,” was the glorious answer.

I left her, but felt I could thank God that she now knew that peace “which passeth all understanding” (Phil. 4:7). The next day I met her in the street. It was raining, but under the cover of my umbrella we stood while she told me, with a heart overflowing with gratitude, that it was even so; she was full of joy, and had been telling a friend that same afternoon of her newly found peace. “He (Christ Jesus) is our peace” (Eph 2:14). “Having made peace by the blood of His cross... and you (the apostle is here writing to saints) who were once alienated and enemies in mind by wicked works, yet now hath He reconciled” (Col. 1:20-21).

Dear reader, are you reconciled to God? Do you know this peace—the living Christ? If not, where are you going? “There is a way that seemeth right unto a man...” (Prov. 16:25). Is this your way? Does it seem right in your own eyes? Thus far then the Word of God and you are agreed; but hearken! “The end thereof are the ways of death.” Did you never think of the end? Then consider it now, and, “Turn ye, turn ye. Why will ye die?”

A little school girl said, “Where are we to go to?” Will you not repeat that question in the singular number and say, “Where am I to go, for I cannot take one more step in the road that leads to eternal woe?” The Word of God fully and completely answers your important question. “Ye must be born again” (John 3:7). “How?” you say. “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” (John 3:14-15). You must come to the Person who says, “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out,” and when you have come to Christ, do believe like Mrs.—that He has taken you in. Remember, “Jesus Christ is the Same yesterday, and today, and forever” (Heb. 13:8).

“My love is ofttimes low,

` My joy still ebbs and flows;

But peace with Him remains the same,

No change Jehovah knows.

“I change, He changes not;

My Christ can never die:

His love, not mine, the resting-place,

His truth, not mine, the tie.”

—Beacon Lights

A Little Child Shall Lead Them

A CHILD NAMED Mary had been going to Sunday School for some time. She was only about seven or eight years old, but she had learned enough to know that she was a sinner, and that Jesus was the only Savior. She loved Him, and prayed to Him every day. Mary’s parents were careless, wicked people, who never thought about God or heaven. One night Mary’s father was taken suddenly ill. His illness was very alarming. The poor man saw death staring him in the face. He felt that he was a sinner, and not prepared to die. He asked his wife to pray for him. She said she didn’t know how to pray. “Oh, what shall I do?” he exclaimed, “how can I die with all my sins upon me?”

“Mary has learned a great deal about the Bible, at Sunday School,” said his wife; “Suppose I call her. Perhaps she can tell you something that will comfort you.”

“Call her at once,” said he.

Mary was called, out of her sleep, to the bedside of her dying father. “Mary, my child,” said the poor man, “I’m going to die; but I feel that I’m a great sinner. Can you tell me how a sinner like me can be saved?”

“Oh, yes, father,” said Mary. “Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners” (1 Tim. 1:15).

“But how does He save sinners? And will He save such a great sinner as I am?”

“Jesus says, in the Bible,” replied Mary, “‘Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest’ (Matt. 11:28). ‘God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life’ (John 3:16). ‘Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out’” (John 6:37).

“Does the Bible say all that, Mary?” asked the dying man with great earnestness.

“Yes,” said Mary; “those are the very words I learned in Sunday School.”

Then he asked Mary to kneel down and pray for him. So she kneeled down and prayed that God would have mercy on her dear father; that He would pardon his sins and save his soul, for Jesus’ sake.

In the morning, when Mary woke up, her father was dead. But he died believing the words that Mary had told him from the Bible, and he found peace in believing them.

“Out of my bondage, sorrow and night,

Jesus, I come! Jesus, I come!

Into Thy freedom, gladness and light,

Jesus, I come to Thee!

Out of my sickness into Thy health,

Out of my want and into Thy wealth,

Out of my sin and into Thyself,

Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of the fear and dread of the tomb,

Jesus, I come! Jesus, I come!

Into the joy and light of Thy Home,

Jesus, I come to Thee!

Out of the depths of ruin untold.

Into the peace of Thy sheltering fold,

Ever Thy glorious face to behold,

Jesus, I come to Thee.”

A Millionaire's Confession

THE NAME VANDERBILT is a familiar one and always associated in the mind with great wealth. Cornelius Vanderbilt, who accumulated a vast fortune while engaged, first in Steamboat, and later in Railroad enterprises, died in New York in 1877, the possessor of wealth estimated at the enormous sum of $100,000,000.

Shortly before his death, he was supposed to be the richest man in the world, and his heirs divided the largest fortune ever bequeathed in the United States up to that time.

It is most significant and striking to learn that when at the point of death, and hearing Joseph Hart’s hymn, “Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,” mentioned, he exclaimed, “Yes, yes, sing that; I am poor and needy!”

Most weighty words surely, uttered under such circumstances. It is evident that what some men value most here, is absolutely worthless in eternity. “For when he dieth, he shall carry nothing away” (Psa. 49:17).

“Were the vast world our own,

With all its varied store,

And Thou, Lord Jesus, wert unknown,

We still were poor.”

Hart’s hymn, already referred to, clearly indicates how all men, rich and poor, may become possessed of true riches, and thus enter eternity in the consciousness of having been enriched by our Lord’s poverty, as the Apostle teaches in 2 Corinthians 8:9: “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.”

Three stanzas of the hymn follow:

“Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,

Weak and wounded, sick and sore,

Jesus ready stands to save you,

Full of pity, love, and power:

HE is able,

HE is willing, doubt no more.

“Let not conscience make you linger,

Nor of fitness fondly dream,

All the fitness HE requireth,

Is to feel your need of HIM.

This He gives you,

’Tis the Spirit’s rising beam.

“Come, ye weary, heavy-laden,

Lost and ruined by the fall:

If you tarry till you’re better,

You will never come at all;

Not the righteous—

Sinners Jesus came to call.”

Dear reader, how is it with YOU? Are YOU wealthy?

Our Lord once said, “A man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth” (Luke 12:15), and immediately added the parable of the rich fool. This man, apparently honest, economical, careful and industrious, gradually accumulated so much that his storehouses became inadequate for his riches. On resolving to build new and larger ones, to provide for many years to come on earth, God claimed his soul. He had made the huge blunder of leaving out all thoughts of God and His claims in all his calculations, so, unprepared to meet Him, he was a fool indeed.

Are you poor in the world’s estimation? You will be infinitely poorer still in eternity, if you have not Christ.

Rich and poor alike will be paupers eternally if unredeemed by the precious blood of God’s dear Son. What is Christ to you?

Your eternal bliss or woe depends on the answer. To many of earth’s poor, and to some of the rich, He excels in moral beauty the fairest of ten thousands, He is the One “altogether lovely” (Song of Sol. 5:16), their Savior and Lord.

“If thou shalt confess with thy mouth Jesus as Lord, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised Him from the dead, thou shalt be saved” (Rom. 10:9).

—E. H.

A Millionaire's Text

IT WAS THE TEXT employed by William Whiting Borden as he sought to lead his classmates to the knowledge of Christ as a personal Savior.

One of the most refreshing biographies of recent years is “Borden of Yale '09,” by Mrs. Howard Taylor. Among many comments upon the book, Howard A. Kelly, M.D., L.L.D., of Johns Hopkins University, writes: “In recent times there has certainly been no more convincing appeal uttered in the name of evangelical Christianity than this life centered in Christ.”

“When the death of William Borden,” runs the Introduction, “was cabled from Egypt, it seemed as though a wave of sorrow went round the world. There was scarcely a newspaper in the United States that did not publish some account of a life which had combined elements so unusual, and letters from many lands attested the influence of its high ideals and unselfish service. It is probably true, as was stated in the Princeton Seminary Bulletin, that no young man of his age had ever given more to the service of God and humanity; for Borden not only gave his wealth, but himself, in a way so joyous and natural that it was manifestly a privilege rather than a sacrifice.”

“It was not the million dollars that came to this young American,” commented another editor, “which made his life a victory and his death a world-wide call to young men and women to learn the secret of that victory. It was in things that every man can share that William Borden found the way to the life which is Christ, and the death which is gain. And China and the Muslim world shall yet share that gain, as his burning torch is used to kindle in other lives the fires of a like passion for Jesus Christ.”

At the age of 17 he entered Yale, and it was during his freshman year that the text was employed—and not without blessing—in the life of an ex-Hill man, who was then tutoring in New Haven. The account will be told best in one of Borden’s letters to his mother.

* * * * *

May 21, 1906.

“We have just celebrated Omega Lambda Chi tonight, which is a rather strenuous proceeding. First we all—the whole college—danced around hippity-hop, finally ending up at the campus. Then there was a race between the sophomores and freshmen. After this we had a tug-of-war. Nearly the whole college tacked on, seniors and sophs at one end, and juniors and freshmen at the other. We just walked it over to York Street when somebody foolishly tried to take it into Pearson Hall. Then the sophs got it going and we couldn’t stop them for quite a while. Had an awful scrap which finally ended up on Chapel Street. I have a small piece of the rope ... .

“But there is something more interesting to tell you. Charlie has been working with a fellow most of the year. His boast was that he’d broken every commandment but one. As he isn’t in jail, I suppose that one is murder. Well, Charlie and I prayed that he might get a talk with X. The other day his uncle died, and on returning he nearly went off again (that is, to the bad), but went up to Charlie’s room instead, and he was there alone. Charlie told me how hard it was, how he beat around the bush and prayed. But thank God, he won out, and had a fine talk with X., who has decided to give Christ a chance in his life. Charlie and I prayed, and took Christ’s words, “Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out.” I feel convinced that X. is started all right, and what’s more I think he’s going to be a power. For he is a skilful debater, and if he found Christ, he could have a strong influence. It’s wonderful—isn’t it?—and glorious!”

During his Sophomore year, Borden and John Magee, the graduate secretary of the Y.M.C.A., began to pray that a Mission, similar to the Water St. Mission of New York, might be established in New Haven, for the sake of the University, no less than for the unfortunates.

During this time he again wrote his mother:

December 10, 1906.

“You will be pleased to hear that X. is getting on very well in every way (the classmate who formerly boasted that he had broken every commandment but one). He leads a Sunday School class, and has a Phi Beta Kappa stand in his studies. Rather a contrast with last year!”

Borden’s home-call came during his work in Cairo, and “as for God, His way is perfect” (Psa. 18:30). The text—the work that he was privileged to translate into the lives of others, remains. “I prayed,” he wrote, “and took Christ’s words, ‘Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.’ I feel convinced that X. is started all right, and what’s more I think he’s going to be a power.”

“The Master said, ‘Come, follow’—

That was all.

Earth’s joys grew dim,

My soul went after Him;

I rose and followed—

That was all.

Will you not follow if you hear His call?”

COME!

C onfidingly—

Believing He will receive you Matt. 11:28.

O penly—

Acknowledge your guilt Isa. 1:18.

M eekly—

In the spirit of a little child Luke 18:16.

E arnestly—

Because God says, NOW Luke 14:26.

Minnie Gray

A DOCTOR’S WIFE was asked to visit a sick girl in a hospital, but found her mind was wandering. All her cry was that she was lost—too great a sinner to be saved —Jesus would not have her. It was distressing to hear her, her visitor related: “For some minutes I stood irresolute; it seemed useless to attempt to speak to her, for she appeared quite unconscious of things around. Then I remembered: “The Word of God is quick and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart” (Heb 4:12). I thought, “What is to hinder its entering even here?” So I sat down by the bed, and as clearly and distinctly as I could, though in a low tone, repeated these three verses again and again: “The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10); “The blood of Jesus Christ His [God’s] Son cleanseth us from all sin” (1 John 1:7); “Jesus said, Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37).

The woman in the next bed said, “It’s no use talking to her, she has not been conscious since last night; and they do not expect her to be again, though she has raved about these things ever since she came in.”

I knew well it must seem useless; but still with a strong conviction that God’s words could find an entrance where man’s could not, I still repeated them a great many times—how many I do not know. She grew composed and quiet, the look of agony and despair went away from her face, and now she kept murmuring—“To seek and to save—to seek and to save from all sin.” She died that night, so I never saw her again, but just before she died she opened her eyes, and said quite clearly: “The blood of Jesus Christ God’s Son cleanseth us from all sin,” and never spoke again.

Another bed was at right angles to this poor girl’s, near enough for every word spoken in one to be distinctly heard in another. In it lay another sick girl. She did not wait for me to speak, but began eagerly, “Those words were all for me that you have been repeating. I was lost, and so He came to seek and save me; I am full of sin, but the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. I have come to Him this morning, and He will not cast me out. Tell me more about Him. Do read me more.”

These two poor girls believed that the Lord Jesus meant what He said. They rested their safety for eternity on the word of Him who cannot lie. They were like another, a noted character on Edinburgh streets, who was awakened to a sense of his sin, but in despair cried out that he was too bad to be saved. The words of the Lord Jesus were read to him: “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.” It was enough. “That’ll do,” he said “I’LL BELIEVE JESUS!” Reader, will you?

NO WRONG WAY

After an evangelist had been speaking with an old woman for a time, as to the importance of coming to Christ, she said, “I’d come if I could come in the right way.” “Then come at once,” he replied, “for there is no wrong way of coming to Christ.”

"Oh, What a Savior that He Died for Me!"

Oh, what a Savior that He died for me!

From condemnation He hath made me free;

“He that believeth on the Son,” saith He,

“HATH Everlasting Life.”

“Verily, verily, I say unto you,”

“Verily, verily,” message ever new;

“He that believeth on the Son,” ’tis true,

“HATH Everlasting Life.”

All my iniquities on Him were laid,

All my indebtedness by Him was paid;

All who believe on Him, the Lord hath said,

“HATH Everlasting Life.”

Though poor and needy I can trust my Lord;

Though weak and sinful I believe His Word;

Oh, glad message; every child of God

“HATH Everlasting Life.”

Though all unworthy, yet I will not doubt.

For him that cometh He will not cast out;

“He that believeth"—oh, the good news shout!—

“HATH Everlasting Life.”

A Page from the Gospel of John

ONE OF THE FIRST things that meets the eye upon entering the home of William C—is a text in large bold letters hanging on the living room wall. It is John 6:37, and from a page out of his well-thumbed Bible it was evidently a text not unknown to him. He believed in its sacred power to draw weary sinners to the Savior’s feet. His life, from the day God saved him to its close, was spent in quiet, faithful service for the One who saved him by His grace. Handicapped by deafness and lack of schooling, he nevertheless applied himself to the study of the Word of God, and the markings through his Bible display a keen relish for the precious Book.

Our frontispiece shows a page from John 6. As you will see, he noticed the special emphasis put on the words: Come, eat and bread in the chapter. Put together they simply form the incentive that gave him such joy in the Savior. The chapter, as a careful reading will show, opens with the feeding of the five thousand by the Lord Jesus Christ at the hill-side against Tiberias. It is the only miracle recorded by all four Evangelists, and demands closest attention.

It was the basis for the discourse that followed. A question is raised by those whom the Lord has just satisfied with bread: “What shall we do that we might work the works of God?” (John 6:28). And the answer is from the lips of Him who cannot lie: “This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent” (John 6:29). But as unbelieving as Israel in Egypt, when God sent a deliverer to them, they here demand a “sign” that they may believe! Have they so quickly forgotten the miracle of the preceding day when five thousand men, besides women and children, were fed with “five barley loaves and two small fishes?” Eyes they had, but “they saw not,” and further refer Him to the fact that their fathers ate manna in the desert, “as it is written, He gave them bread from heaven to eat.”

“Then Jesus said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Moses gave you not that bread from heaven; but My Father giveth you the true bread from heaven. For the Bread of God is He which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world. Then said they unto Him, Lord evermore give us this bread. And Jesus said unto them, I am the Bread of Life; he that cometh to Me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on Me shall never thirst. But I said unto you, That ye also have seen Me and believe not. All that the Father giveth Me shall come to Me; and him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:32-37).

It is a Royal invitation from the King of kings and Lord of lords. “COME: for all things are now ready” (Luke 14:17). God is ready to save you; Christ Jesus is ready to receive you; the Holy Spirit is ready to indwell you. Are you ready?

Salvation, wrought out by Him who cried upon the Cross, “IT IS FINISHED,” is ready for you; atonement has been made for sin and all uncleanness, the cleansing fountain is now open, and God stands ready to clothe you with the robe of righteousness. Are you ready? The “great supper” has been provided and the feast is spread for you. Will you make absurd excuses to remain away from it? You do so at the peril of your own soul! What excuse will you make to God when you stand before Him in view of the fact that you know He is now inviting you to Come and partake of His grace, to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and be saved? It is but another of the many gospel bells that God has been ringing these many long years which millions have heard and answered. And still these:

Gospel bells invite us,

| To a feast prepared for all;

Do not slight the invitation,

Nor reject the gracious call.

“I am the Bread of Life;

Eat of Me, thou hungry soul,

Though your sins be red as crimson,

They shall be as white as wool.”

Does your heart say Yes, or No? Are you numbered among those who “believe not”? Remember, “He that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him” (John 3:36). Do you understand those dread words, dear reader? Listen to the awful sentence from the Faithful and True Witness, “But the fearful and unbelieving ... shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death” (Rev. 21:8).

Hear another word of the Faithful Witness, “He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life” (John 3:36). And this believing is “coming,” and by coming you will prove that God has provided for your blessing now and evermore.

From the Cross uplifted high,

Where the Savior deigns to die,

What melodious sounds I hear,

Bursting on my ravished ear!

Love’s redeeming work is done;

Come, and welcome! sinner, Come!

Spread for thee the festal board,

See with richest dainties stored;

To thy Father’s bosom pressed,

Yet again a child confessed,

Never from His House to roam;

Come, and welcome! sinner, Come!”

—Haweis

A Poor Man's Text

“The rich and the poor meet together: the Lord is the Maker of them all” (Prov. 22:2).

THERE STANDS in the Erie Cemetery a humble marker on which is inscribed the simple words, “With Christ.” It marks the resting-place of all that was mortal of Theodore Hoffman, but Theodore Hoffman himself is with Christ. It came about in this way.

In early days he loved the “things of this life,” and one evening he set off with his violin to a dance, for another carousal. His course led him by a tent from which he heard singing; this was the bait that drew him closer to hear the glad message of a Savior’s love. Someone, he knew not whom, was preaching from John 6:37. But were those words for him? A strong conviction of sin came over his soul. Would he, a lost sinner, a drunkard, would he be taken in by the One who said He would not cast out any who simply came to Him?

He could not go to the dance, and fear kept him from going into the tent, so he went home. There God met him in His grace, and delivered him from all his distresses. He had sent forth His Word and it had healed him (Psa. 107:20). A ransom had been found for him and he was delivered from going down into the pit (Job 33:24).

Like Martin Luther, for he too was schooled in the doctrines of Rome, it was the bare Word of God that liberated his soul. And like John Bunyan, there came a helper into his new life like “the shining ones” of whom Bunyan speaks. The “shining one” in Hoffman’s life was an aged Mrs. Hunt, a lover of the Word of God and of Missions. The Lord’s return from Heaven for His Church became a vital fact in his life, and many happy hours were spent with the aged saint learning the way of God more perfectly.

His little tailor shop became a lighthouse for Christ in the south-west section of the city, and to this day, the memory of this just man is blessed. His whole life was fragrant with faith in the promises of the Word. Poor in this world’s goods, he was “rich in faith,” and God honored it.

One text—it hung as a medallion in his place of business—John 6:37, had taken root in his heart, and from that day forward his praise was of Him who drew him from the depths of sin and shame into the glorious liberty of the children of God.

His path was not always smooth. His former “religious” connections were forever severed. It put him in company with the “man born blind” of John 9. “They answered and said unto him, “Thou wast altogether born in sins and dost thou teach us? And they cast him out!” (John 9:34). The blind man was excommunicated!

It had been previously arranged that if any man confessed that Jesus was Christ, he should be put out of the synagogue. “When Jesus heard that they had cast him out, He said unto him, Dost thou believe on the Son of God? He answered and said, Who is He, Lord, that I might believe on Him? Jesus said unto him, Thou hast both seen Him, and it is He that talketh with thee. And he said, Lord, I believe. And he worshipped Him” (John 9:35-38).

They cast him out! Jesus took him in!

They said he was altogether born in sins! Jesus said nothing about his sins! According to their wretched tradition they believed it possible for the man to have sinned before he was born. Christ was here to work the works of Him that sent Him, and that work was manifest in the healing and delivering of the blind man. He was blessedly putting forth His own sheep, and then He went without the camp to find him. In that place of shame and exposure they embraced each other. There he was found by One who had Himself been shot at by the archers.

“These things have I spoken unto you that ye should not be offended. They shall put you out of the synagogues; yea, the time cometh, that whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth God service. And these things will they do unto you because they have not known the Father, nor Me. But these things have I told you that when the time shall come, ye may remember that I told you of them...These things have I spoken unto you, that in Me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer: I have overcome the world” (John 16:1-4, 33).

"Red Tam"

I HAD BEEN STAYING with the McGregors for nearly a fortnight, and I believe it had rained every day, True, the country folk said it was only “a wee bit saft,” but I called it a regular downpour. And now, here was the first fine day.

“If I may, I will just go for a blow over the moors,” I said, coming down equipped for a walk.

“You’ll lose yourself,” replied Elsie. “Much better wait till Harold comes in; he said he would be early today.”

“And the moors aren’t fit for a young lassie like you to go roaming about on alone,” added Mrs. McGregor, anxiously.

“It isn’t like the London suburbs here,” I pleaded. “There one does meet the most cut-throat-looking tramps at times, but here—.”

“I was thinking of Red Tam,” sighed Mrs. McGregor, laying down her work. “He’s an ill body to meet—isn’t he, Elsie?—and really makes the moors a perfect danger!”

“Red Tam?” I asked, mystified. “What a funny name.”

“He ought to be locked up!” said Elsie.

“He has been, lots of times, for robbing or frightening people. He really is a bad character.”

But they let me go at last, in spite of many warnings and blood-curdling recollections of the sins of Red Tam.

“If I see him in the distance, I’ll run home,” I promised.

It was glorious outside, with a boisterous autumn wind rioting over the purple moors, which made one long to run and laugh and shout just for the pure joy of living. I am a good walker, and the loneliness of my tramp did not daunt me in the least. I gave a heavy sigh of regret as I turned homewards. It is rough walking over the heather, and I was stooping to get a stone out of my shoe when, close by, I heard a most pitiful whine.

It didn’t startle me, for I am thankful to say I never went in for twentieth-century nerves, and I guessed at once that it must be some poor dog that had fallen into a nearby pit. I went to the side and peeped over. Sure enough there lay the dog at the bottom.

“You poor, poor thing,” I cried. “I believe you’ve broken your leg.”

I had been attending a course of nursing lectures lately, and was anxious to put my knowledge into practice, so, without hesitation, I began to scramble down the side of the pit. It wasn’t very easy, and I got scratched and disheveled before I alighted—more precipitately than I intended—at the bottom. The poor animal knew quite well that I had come to succor him, and whined a deprecating little whine.

I was right; he had broken a leg, as a yelp of pain told me. I soothed him again as well as I could, and tearing my handkerchief in pieces, bound the limb up tightly. I was so busy that I did not look up till a whine of pleasure told me that my wounded friend was welcoming his master; and I confess that my heart did give a big jump as I saw the man who was swinging himself down into the pit beside me. He was about as ruffianly-looking a villain as you could meet, with a shock of brick-red hair, and a weather-beaten face. I knew at once that this must he the terror of the moorland—Red Tam.

I did not, however, run away as I had promised, for I should have found it difficult, seeing I was encompassed by four steep banks — almost walls. So, swallowing my fears as best I might, I turned to greet the new arrival.

“Your dog has broken its leg,” I said.

He stood glowering down at me from under his red brows, and I suppose he expected me to be frightened; so I was, but I did not mean to show it. A moan from the sufferer turned my attention.

“Poor old fellow,” I said, patting him, “is it very bad?”

The poor creature licked my hand and turned its eyes to its master’s face, as much as to say, “She’s been very kind to me.”

Red Tam dropped down on his knees, and his whole face softened as he bent over the shaggy heap, rubbing his face close to that of the dog, whilst he murmured caressing words to it. Then he faced me. “I’m Red Tam McEwen,” he said, proudly straightening his back.

Again I knew he expected me to be afraid. I smiled, for the man had lost his terror for me, and a sudden gust of pity swept over me.

“I am so sorry your dog is hurt, Red Tam,” I said gently. “I have bound up his leg as well as I can, but it will be difficult to move him; do you live far from here?”

His jaw dropped, and he looked at me as if I were some unearthly being.

“Ye are no’ afrait of me?”

I looked him squarely in the face and smiled. “No,” I replied.

The dusky color crept to his weather-tanned cheeks. Then he looked at the dog.

“Ye would na ha’e doon that for Roy if ye’d keened he was Red Tam’s.”

“Indeed I would. Poor old Roy.”

His face twisted with sudden emotion.

“He’s a’ I have,” he muttered. “A’ I have—an’ ye’re no feart of me?”

I’m going to help you get your dog home,” I said. “Take off your plaid and let’s put him in it; it will hurt him if you try to carry him in your arms — so.”

He obeyed without a word, still eyeing me in a sort of mute wonder.

We slung Roy in his ragged tartan, and somehow managed to hoist him up out of the pit. Tam said no word, however, but strode on, with Roy carried hammock-wise between us. It appeared that Red Tam’s cabin was not very far off. I could not help a shudder at the sight of it. It seemed awful to think of a human creature existing in such a hovel, or, rather, cavern in the hillside. When Roy was safely disposed of on a bed of bracken, Red Tam turned to me.

“Why did you do it?” he demanded thickly, and I could read a reckless defiance in his hard eyes.

“Why?” I said very gently—“Because I am sorry for your dog, and—and I am sorry for you too,” and in a quick impulse I put out my hand.

He shrank back a little.

“Won’t you shake hands?” I asked.

He gripped it then in such a vice as nearly made me scream aloud.

“Ye’re sorry for me?” he said harshly. “Ye don’t mean that, lassie! All, then ye don’t know Red Tam. I’m a thief, lassie, an’ a blackguard wha’s the terror of the country side. There’s not a man or a woman who would na be feart to meet me alone on these moors.”

“I know,” I replied, “at least, I heard; but I am not afraid—only sorry.”

He dropped my hand, and, sinking down on the ground, began to sob. I think it was the first human word of kindness he had heard for years, and it unmanned him.

I laid my hand lightly on his shoulder; his loneliness and degradation moved me intensely.

“Red Tam,” I whispered, “God pities you too—and loves you.” And then I left him.

That was the beginning of my strange acquaintance with Red Tam. I went several times to the cave hut on the moors, ostensibly to inquire after Roy, really to talk to Roy’s master. It was no easy task to win the confidence of such a man, but bit by bit the sad tale of a ruined life was told. A faithless sweetheart and bad friends were the beginning of the downward path, and Tam had learned the lesson of how breakneck a speed that descent attains unchecked.

I talked to him—long, serious talks about his soul. Some chord of early youth and a mother’s love had been quickened into life at my pity, and opened the way to a dim, wavering understanding of God’s great and infinite love and forgiveness. Bitterly he would sob out his repentance, despairing of forgiveness at times, or again repeating in his broad Scottish tongue, “Him that cometh to Me I’ll in no wise cast oot—na, na, not even Red Tam.”

His gratitude to me I did not in the least deserve, but it touched me to the quick; I grew, indeed, to take the keenest interest in this poor outcast, whom his fellows had agreed to cast out of the pale of humanity. But without the pale he found—Christ.

It had come to within two days of my departure, and Harold had made me promise to motor over with him to Berrington Abbey. We waved our good-byes to Mrs. McGregor, and off we went.

It was delicious, and we were as supremely happy as two young people could be who are soon to be man and wife, and start their wedded life with God.

“What a steep hill,” I was saying, when click, something seemed to snap and go wrong. I saw Harold turn very white.

“The brake won’t act,” he said, hoarsely. “I—I—.”

He turned towards me and caught me round the waist with one arm, whilst the other hand still gripped the wheel.

I understood in a flash. We were tearing down hill at top speed, and at the bottom was a heavy five-barred gate; facing us was another hill. If only the gate had been opened we might have been saved. As it was—I closed my eyes and hid my face on Harold’s shoulder, faltering out a prayer as I waited for the crash.

I heard Harold cry out, and by instinctive impulse I looked up.

Ahead of us, far ahead, ran a strange figure in a ragged tartan, which streamed in the wind behind. At its heels was a shaggy sheep-dog. Downwards we rushed like some great terrible bird swooping upon destruction.

I felt Harold’s arm like a vice around me, and then —then—a rush, a yelp, a cry, and the great machine, panting and throbbing like a live thing, was slowly crawling up the opposite hill.

I was dazed and trembling when Harold at length brought it to a standstill.

“Wait here for me, darling,” he said in an odd, husky voice. “We’re all right now, but don’t look behind.”

The momentary giddiness of fear had passed. I quite understood, clearer, perhaps, than he did.

“I am coming,” I said steadily; and, in spite of his entreaties, jumped out of the car.

Behind us, at the bottom of the hill, I saw an open gate still quivering on its hinges, and a figure in ragged tartan lying across the road with a dog beside it.

“It’s Red Tam!” I said, in a choked voice. “He opened the gate, he died to save me!”

In silence we went down the hill, and in silence I knelt beside that bruised and battered body, in which, however, the spirit still lingered, as if anxious to give me its last message.

Red Tam’s face was white and drawn with physical agony, but the wide-open eyes had lost forever their look of bold and cruel defiance; only a wonderful look of triumph and joy was left in them. His blood-frothed lips moved, and I bent low, sobbing bitterly as I tried to tell him my thanks. But his thoughts were far from the self-sacrifice which stretched him there. “It’s true, lassie,” he whispered. “It’s true, after all. He’s sent the old mither to tell me, ‘Him that cometh—I’ll in no wise cast oot—no wise cast oot’—not even Red Tam. God bless ye for that message.”

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13), I whispered very gently, and, stooping low, kissed the dead man’s face. He was no more Red Tam the outcast, but the lost sheep brought home to the fold, over whom angels rejoiced, and a Savior smiled.

—M. W.

FOUR HUNDRED BEGGARS A DAY

The late Baron Hirsch received an average of 400 begging letters a day, and never read them, though he gave away in a single year as much as $15,000,000. Yet we know One who receives more than 400 beggars, bankrupts and sinners a day, and never has been known to turn one away; indeed, He endows each suppliant with a greater fortune than $15,000,000, even Eternal Life—John 6:37-40.

A Testimony For Christ

WILLIAM WAS A CARPENTER. When a boy in the Sunday-school he learned to think of his soul and of eternity. But as he grew up, the cares of business drove these thoughts from him, and he settled down to the duties of daily life as if he should live forever. But one day, while lifting a great piece of timber, he strained himself. His strength gave way, and William had to exchange the cares of business for a sick bed. There the lessons of his childhood came back to him, and his overanxiety for the bread that perisheth was supplanted by the cry of his soul, “What must I do to be saved?”

“Ah, sir,” said he to me, “it goes hard with a backslider when he comes to lie upon a bed of sickness.”

“Yes,” I replied; “and it will go hard with us all if God should deal with us after our deservings; but the precious blood of Christ cleanses the blackest heart from every sin.”

Upon seeing William again, I found him grasping these words of Jesus: “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37). The Spirit of God had given him a sight of himself, and a sight of the Savior. The burden of sin was rolled away, his sorrows were gone, and increasing pain and weakness only proved his patience.

A long illness set in, during which William’s faith was strengthened, and his love to Christ increased. One day he said, “I wish to die, that I may go to see my precious Jesus. Oh, what love it was in Him to find me out! I should never have come to Him, unless He had brought me. And what should I have done without Him? I should be where there would not be a drop of water to cool my burning tongue. Oh, the love of Jesus!—His hands, His feet, His side! He forgives and casts none out. None—none—none!”

On one of the last days of his long and weary illness, I said, “Even today Jesus may say, ‘Thou shalt be with Me in paradise'.” His sweet smile seemed to answer, “Oh, that it might be so!” In the after-part of the day he rallied, and said to his mother, “I want—I want"—“Well, my dear,” she replied, “what is it?” “To sing,” said he, “and you, and father, and all join with me.” He then began—

“Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,

This is your accepted hour,

Jesus ready stands to save you,

Full of pity, love and power;

He is able!

He is willing! Doubt no more.”

As he proceeded, his eyes fixed on heaven, his voice grew louder, and for a time his soul seemed to gain victory over the weakness of a dying body; while the sobs of the family were choking their voices, death, so close at hand, could not overcome his. “Come to Jesus!” he exclaimed, “Come, whosoever will! Come now, this is your accepted hour. Jesus will not cast any out! Jesus is ready to save you. Come to Jesus. None but Jesus can do helpless sinners good. Oh, come now, and do not delay; put it not off. He will cast none out.”

He entreated his brothers and sisters to come to Christ. One of his sisters said, “Oh, William, we will pray.” “That will not do,” he replied, “you must come to Him, now, now! Ah, you little know what I suffer for your soul. My pains of body have been nothing compared with this. The tears I have shed for myself have been nothing to those which I have shed for you.”

And so he passed away, and his humble testimony appeals to you, dear reader. How many such appeals have you not heard? “Come, Come,” these entreaties cry to you. Come to Him who came to earth and died to save; who has gone to heaven, to bring to Himself up there everyone who receives Him here. —R.

THE COWBOY'S CONVERSION

A young Scotchman, brought up under a godly mother’s care emigrated to the States, and became a cowboy in the Rocky Mountain region. He imbibed the teachings of Ingersoll and lived a careless, godless life. But one day he came across a sermon, the text of which was “How wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan?” (Jer. 12:5). The application of this pointed question brought home to him his mother’s early teachings and he was in great distress of soul. He saw a little Testament on his employer’s desk and took it out under the shade of a tree, but only became more distressed as he thought of his sins. Twice he drew his revolver to take his own life. Then he glanced down at the Testament. It was open, and in the goodness of God his eye fell upon John 6:37. He came to Jesus. He found that the Lord keeps His word, and afterward spent much of his time proclaiming to others the truth of what that day he received alone with God.

The Transformation of Laura Cabel

“GOING UP TO SEE ‘Sloppy Weather’?” It was the Chief speaking.

“Yes,” said the Sheriff’s wife, “but tell me, Chief, why do you call any woman ‘Sloppy Weather’?”

“Well, if you had picked her up out of the gutter as often as I have, that’s what you’d call her—but go ahead, you’ll go in to see her anyway.”

A young woman, about twenty years of age, sat in her cell. Brought up in a den of iniquity from infancy, she knew only the blackest side of life. Her mother was proprietress of the place. It was a strange experience to have anyone take an interest in her. Kind words and kind acts from the matron soon won her confidence. A tray of toast and tea specially prepared for her awakened the dormant sensibilities of her depraved nature, and there were soon floods of tears as she poured out her sordid story on the shoulder of her new friend.

“Will you go to a Home,” asked the matron, “where you can live a new life and be away from this awful life of sin and shame?”

“I would gladly go,” she replied, “but who will receive me?”

“There is such a Home in Pittsburgh, and there you can be away from all these evil associations, and they will help you. We will go to your ‘home’ and get your clothing, and you can bid them goodbye. If they refuse to let you go, you can tell them the sheriff’s wife is at the door, and she will bring some one to the house who will see that you go.”

In a short time she came out with her possessions, but not without the threat that the authorities of the law were ready to effect her deliverance.

“She rode with me,” related Mrs. Evans, “in the rig that we used in those days, drawn by ‘White Billy’.” Laura immediately associated ‘Billy’ with her new life and said, “White Billy will help me into a white life.”

Before she left for Pittsburgh the liberating power of the gospel had been put before her, and shortly after her admission there the blessed work was completed in her soul.

The new matron said that Laura Cabel was the most industrious and conscientious girl that ever entered the Home. If it had been possible, she would have done all the work of the establishment. Here it was that she learned more fully of the love of Him who came into the world to save sinners. It was here that she was drawn into that fold where blacker sheep than she had been carried on the shoulders of the Good Shepherd.

But none of the ransomed ever knew

How deep were the waters crossed;

Nor how dark was the night that the Lord passed through,

Ere He found His sheep that was lost.

Out in the desert He heard its cry,

Weak and helpless, and ready to die.

And all through the mountains, thunder-riven,

And up from the rocky steep,

There arose a cry to the gate of Heaven,

‘Rejoice! I have found My sheep!’

And the angels echoed around the Throne,

‘Rejoice! for the Lord brings back His own’!”

A Home was eventually opened in Erie, Pennsylvania, and Laura Cabel was among its first inmates. But her past life had sown fatal seeds in her mortal frame: she was a victim of tuberculosis.

As long as she was able, she visited her friend, Mrs. Evans, and made occasional visits to the Erie County Jail. Once as they ascended the long steps together, she said: “The first time I walked up here I was a prisoner, body and soul. Now I am free, body and soul.”

On another visit she talked with an Irish woman—one of the “habituals.” often brought in on account of drunkenness.

“It’s not for the likes of me,” would be her reply to Laura’s earnest entreaties to come to the Savior.

“But, Bridget,” she urged, “whether young or old, or however sinful we may be, He will not turn us away.”

Ah, that’s it! “I will in no wise cast out,”

“Yes, come in all your sin!

Through Jesus’ blood the vile may enter in,

May come to God, by perfect grace thus led,

Assured that for themselves that blood was shed.”

When finally the dread disease had run its course and Laura knew that the end was near, with superhuman strength she raised herself up in bed, and distinctly said: “Nothing but the blood of Jesus.” Sinking back to her pillow she was released from earth’s sorrows, pangs and tears to dwell in the House of the Lord forever.

Clothed in pure white, surrounded by wreaths of white flowers and resting in a white casket, the body of Laura Cabel was laid in the tomb until that glad morning when the shadows flee away; that morning which shall surely dawn without a cloud-fleck in the sky.

“And as we gazed for the last time here upon the sweet face of one whom the loving Savior had wooed and drawn with the cords of His eternal love,” continued Mrs. Evans, “we could only exclaim, ‘What hath God wrought'!” (Num. 23:23).

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

Put it to yourself, what if this night God should require your soul of you and you had not “come"? What if the summons finds you still far off, when the precious blood was ready by which you might have been made nigh? You do not know what a day may bring forth (Prov. 27:1). There are plenty of things besides immediate death which may just as effectually prevent your ever coming at all if you do not come now. This may be your last free hour for coming. Tomorrow the call may seem rather less urgent, and the “other things entering in” may deaden it, and the grieved Spirit may withdraw and cease to give you even your present inclination to listen to it, and so you may drift on and on, farther and farther from the haven of safety (into which you may enter now if you will) till it is out of sight on the horizon. And then it may be too late to turn the helm, and the current may be too strong; and when the storm of mortal illness at last comes, you may find that you are too weak mentally or physically to rouse yourself, even to hear, much less to come. What can one do when fever and exhaustion are triumphing over mind and body? Do not risk it. Come now!

What Does it Mean to "Come"?

THERE IS NOTHING mysterious or mystical about “coming.” It is one of the simplest words; a child understands it. If Christ were standing before you now, and you heard Him say, “Come,” you would not have to ask what He meant. When He walked upon the Sea of Galilee, and at Peter’s request, “Lord, if it be Thou, bid me come unto Thee on the water” (Matt. 14:28) said to him “Come,” it was the simplest of things to obey, though the circumstances were contrary to nature.

In the words of the saintly Frances Ridley Havergal, “Fear not, believe only; and let yourself come to Him immediately! Take with you words, and turn to the Lord: say unto Him, ‘Take away all iniquity and receive us graciously.’ And know that His answer is, ‘Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.’ Do you still feel unaccountably puzzled about it? Give a quiet hour to the records of how others came to Him. Begin with the eighth of Matthew, and trace out all through the Gospels how they came to Jesus with all sorts of different needs, and trace in these your own spiritual needs of cleansing, healing, salvation, guidance, sight, teaching. They knew what they wanted and they knew whom they wanted. And consequently, they just came.”

Come then to Him with all your need, and if you

—ask Him to receive you,

Will He say you, ‘Nay'?

Not till earth, and not till heaven

Pass away!”

* * * * *

JOHN BUNYAN knew the value of this verse. He wrote for sinners like himself:

“But I am a great sinner,” sayest thou.