Jottings on the Rail Way

All Change Here

I WAS lately traveling through Wiltshire by Rail, and in due course we came to an important junction. The train slackened speed, and in a few moments came to a stand; and the porters, rushing to and fro the whole length of the carriages, shouted at the top of their voices, "ALL CHANGE HERE!" And now a scene of bustle ensued. All were personally interested in the announcement, and showed their interest by busy movements in various ways. Some rushing in great excitement from the carriages, others stepping out quietly and calmly; some were going upward, some downward; a few, perhaps, were traveling together to the end of the journey; whilst others were parted with, probably never to be met again. Many an interesting subject was brought abruptly to a close, and many a face looked upon for the last time.

We had evidently arrived at a point in our journey when every one was desirous to know his whereabouts; and many were the anxious inquiries as to the junction itself, and the different places it led to.

There was the usual variety of character in the various carriages; the moral man, and the scoffer; the possessor of thousands, and the poor artisan. However, the word of the officials was a general message, and an individual message; it was a summons to all, without distinction of character or standing among men. It was three words, describing persons, condition, and place: "ALL CHANGE HERE!" and was for the ear of the nobleman in the elegant first-class; for the respectable tradesman in the second; and for the hardworking man in the third. With some the words were no sooner uttered than the change was made; others lingered, scarcely believing any one, however credibly informed on the subject; whilst in one corner sat a passenger sleeping: he must be waked, or he may be overlooked, and passed off to a siding, only to wake up in dismay and disappointment at midnight. He sleeps soundly, but, if we care for him, we shall not mind shaking him a little roughly; better do that, than let the poor man be left behind, although he may not like it at first. "Wake up, friend, we must all change here." A little patience, for he knows not where he is; he will have his eyes wide open directly, then there will be no difficulty-he will see for himself how to act.

There was another traveler, (a similar one is to be found at every junction.) See the look of anxiety, as the poor simple soul asks, "Must I change here?" Again the porters cry, "ALL change here.”

The cry of the porters—the busy scene around me—the variety of character met with—and the place itself, as a point where man was brought, and from whence he was carried, by a power independent of himself, were rich with illustrative teaching; and brought before my mind God's great center, the cross of Christ, to which every man's attention is called, and, which indeed, affects every man for life or death (2 Cor. 2:14-16). The journey may have been a long one, or otherwise—the man full of days, or the hopeful youth. The necessity of a change is pressed on each: for by the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ the condition of the whole world is revealed; and the condition, too, of each individual comprising the world. The Old Testament declares, "there is not a just man upon the earth who doeth good, and sinneth not" (Eccl. 7:20); and the New Testament goes even further, and says, “dead in trespasses and sins.” “The whole world lieth in the wicked one."What a sentence! and yet a true and righteous one" Now is the judgment of this world; now shall the prince of this world be cast out. And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me," said Jesus, signifying what death he should die (John 12:31-33). Happy is the poor weary sinner who hears the gospel, bows to it, and accepts the refuge which is provided for him by the God of all grace; taking his seat in that place of rest, and allowing another to carry him unto the "desired haven." Through believing the gospel, what a mighty change is effected—the gospel that tells of God's thoughts about the world, and also of His love to the world. A marvelous change indeed! Nothing less than deliverance from death to life, darkness to light, from being a child of wrath and becoming a child of God. Sometimes this change is effected in a moment, just as it were stepping out of one carriage into another-a carriage that had long waited the arrival, in perfect completeness in every part, ready for the traveler, who had but to step in, and even have the door shut for him by another, and there he was in safety. His feelings, whether happy or miserable, would not affect the strength of the engine at all; but if he had confidence in the management, he would rest in peace. And may not this be said of thousands in reference to the peace to within—the place of weakness and imperfection, and are wretched, instead of by faith resting on Christ and the work He finished for them. He made peace by the blood of His cross, and He Himself is the believer's peace. Besides, the change had been wrought by the mighty energy of the Holy Ghost; and by His constraining power we have "received Christ;" and we have, as it were, left the dark, crowded carriages of condemnation—we have emerged from the tunnel of gloom and death into the presence of Christ, and have been brought into the light, and all around and the distant future have a brightness we could not have imagined in our former condition. Oh! what happiness flows from the knowledge of what Christ has done for us, and what He is to us.

The message which falls upon the ear of man is clear and unmistakeable. "God commandeth all men everywhere to repent; because he hath appointed a day, in the which he will judge the world in righteousness by that man whom he hath ordained: whereof he hath given assurance unto ALL MEN, in that he hath raised him from the dead" (Acts 17:30, 31). It is a message of patient love to the poor world! for God not only commands man to bow, but beseeches him to be reconciled to Himself: "God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them" (2 Cor. 5:19). The message is of a worldwide character: "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature" (Mark 16:15). So that man is without excuse, and has but himself to blame, if he be lost; and all that could be done, and all that was required to be done for his salvation was put into the hands of One who was both able and willing to do it, and who did it effectually, thereby bringing glory to God.

By some means or other, man is at some stage of his life brought to this junction. He hears of the cross, and accepts deliverance, and is saved; or wise in his own wisdom passes on, despising God's only but sure way of salvation, and perishes in his sin. Many travelers had for the first time come to this junction, perhaps had not heard of it before, but there it was. Just as I may say of the cross, a man suddenly stands face to face with it, and learns its import to himself; learns there what sin has done—the ruin he is in, but also what love has done for him in providing the sacrifice and finding the ransom; and that the One who hangs there is no less a person than the Son of God—the Lord of life and glory. Yes, sees in Him a sin-bearer and a Savior. He learns, too, the costliness of the sacrifice, in that he reads, Christ laid down His life.

There was one passenger different from the others in this particular. He had not a ticket, but he had "A PASS." Every time our tickets were examined, he showed his "pass." Now this brought to my mind that he was an object of grace. Our tickets had been purchased, but his "pass" had not cost him a farthing, because he was conveyed by the grace of another. By the grace of the manager he was entitled to a place there; and the more closely his "pass" was examined, the more satisfied were the examiners. It stood the test of the closest scrutiny. And so he was borne along by the grace of one who had all the engines, carriages, stations, and men at his command. And mark, he appeared as happy and was as much at ease as the manager himself would have been. And why shouldn't he be? He was there on the authority and by the grace of the manager; and his "pass" bore the signature of the controller of the railway on which he was traveling. How forcibly this brought to my mind my position as a sinner saved by grace, and kept by grace also; and consequently as happy as God could make me, and in order that I might be so, and perfectly secure in Christ, and be one with Him forever, God gave up His Son to the death of the cross. Can my happiness be touched, or my security broken in upon? Then the work of Christ must be made of none effect, and Himself overthrown from the right hand of the majesty on high, where He was seated after having purged our sins by the sacrifice of Himself (Heb. 1:3). Yes, "He loved me, and gave Himself for me." It is said of believers, "As he is, so are we in this world;" and where He is, there, too, shall His servant be. We have not reached the terminus yet, but we have confidence in the love and power of Him who has begun the good work, and who will carry it on even to the end. We, therefore, wait in peace and confidence the crowning act of sovereign grace, when the Lord will descend from heaven to take us to Himself, "and so shall we ever be with the Lord." Even here, in circumstances of weakness and failure, this is our happy boast: "Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God: therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew him not. Beloved, now are we the sons of God; and it doth not yet appear what we shall be, but WE KNOW that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. And every man that hath this hope in him, purifieth himself, even as he is pure." (1 John 3:1-3). Thus, God has made all secure for us in and through Christ; and all things are at His command, and all power in heaven and in earth is given unto Him; and we are His by the purchase of His blood, and He has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind.

The believer is called to walk in communion with the Father and His Son Jesus Christ, in the fellowship of the Holy Ghost.

Another illustration-for these things help to clear away difficulties and simplify matters. What difficulties exist in the mind of the inexperienced traveler as to which is the right way amongst such a net-work of lines, running in all directions, in apparently hopeless confusion! A poor simple soul is lost amid the hurry and bustle of things around; just as one might say of a soul newly-awakened, anxious to go right, but not knowing the way. Doubtless most lines run to a great center, but what a round-about way some people take to get there; while they are wearied by the constant changes and the length of the way, and hence it is most desirable to take the direct line. Hearken! "The up-train starts from the right-hand platform, the down-train from the left." Well, that's plain enough, surely, to the most inexperienced traveler. But is it more so than the "living way"-the way of salvation, which may be learned in these few words: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved?" There's the whole thing in a nut-shell. Does not a man know his right hand from his left? Does he not know the plain meaning of words? Perhaps he is so ignorant that he does not understand; then what's to be done? See, there is the station-master himself. If he be a gracious man, he will not only tell you, but will cheerfully take you to the very spot, and put you in the right place, answer every question, and remove every difficulty, so that you may be at ease. And what shall a poor soul just awakened from the sleep of death do, or how shall he act amid such confusion and such differences of opinions on this most important question? Jesus, the blessed Master Himself, says to the poor distracted one, "Come unto me ... . Learn of me." Go, poor troubled one, to Him, and all will be clear as noon-day. Only let the eye of the needy one be lifted up to the Lord, and he will not go astray. "I will instruct thee, and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye" (Psalm 32:8). He who undertook the work of redemption undertakes to provide for the whole journey.

On one occasion I saw a poor cripple waiting by a carriage, and though the door was open he was obliged to be lifted in. The grace and strength of another were required as the effectual answer to his need. There was the way, indeed; but he was so weak and crippled that he could not raise a foot on to the carriage step. A strong arm and a willing heart, however, came to the poor man's assistance, and these were at his command, and he had simply to surrender himself, which he did, and all was done. And so is the sinner called upon to surrender himself to One who is mighty to save: "even Christ, who is able to save to the uttermost all those that come unto God by him." You see it is "saved by grace." The poor cripple had no claim, only that his helpless condition drew forth the compassion of one who was near him. It is through faith, too; he believed in the proffered kindness, and gave himself up, crutches and all; the help was the "gift" of another, and he was right glad of it, whilst he was perfectly welcome to it. What precious lessons those were to my soul, as I read in them the feeble illustrations of that love, and grace, and power, in which God is dealing with the lost and guilty. Happy is the man who gets a good start, and learns God's thoughts about his condition, and the full and perfect remedy that has been provided for him in God's abundant mercy. Yea, happy is he, if he has learned the meaning of those words: "thy sins are forgiven thee," at the outset; for thousands are traveling all their lives the most round-about way possible in weariness and uncertainty, and at last come to the same junction; or, in other words, just as they are about to pass away from earth, they learn what the Lord did for them on the cross, which they ought to have known, and lived in the enjoyment of years before.

The true condition of believers is shown thus: “The PEACE OF GOD, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” while this is their company, "the GOD OF PEACE shall be with you." This is perfect peace, and perfect security, and in such condition of heart and mind, with the consciousness of such company, there is no room for self, in its many forms of working.

Has my reader been awakened to a sense of his condition as a sinner before God, and of the perilous position in which he stands? If you die in your unchanged, unconverted state, hell will be your portion. You don't like that statement! but it is not the less true for all that. I desire to startle you, to arouse you up fully, even if it be by the sharp tones of judgment, if so be you may be thus brought to Christ. Perhaps you are sleeping in the comfortable corner of morality, or even forgetfulness, and have no thoughts in particular about yourself or God; nor any conscience-work about sin and death and judgment, or the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ. If so, let me lay a friendly hand upon your shoulder. Awake! thou that sleepest; it is high time to awake out of sleep. Be assured, the forgetful man, as well as the active blasphemer, will come into judgment. Scripture says, "The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all them that forget God. Because they both alike have not believed in the name of the only-begotten Son of God; and to believe in Him is to have ETERNAL LIFE.

The Big Bundle

ON one occasion I was traveling upon the under-ground Railway, and while stopping at one of the stations beyond King's Cross, the door of the compartment in which I sat was opened, and an aged woman was helped in by the guard. She needed help, not only on account of her age, but because both arms were engaged in clasping a large bundle. As she sat down, a sigh of relief escaped her, as though to express her satisfaction at being able to rest—after the hurry and bustle to obtain a seat. The door was shut with the official slam—the short shrill whistle conveyed its orders to the engine-driver to proceed, and we were again hurrying forward—a freight of precious souls below—a busy life above—all moving onward, each bent on his own object—some laboring for the bread which perisheth, others for the bread which endureth unto everlasting life.

It was summer-time, and our tunnel-journey increased the heat. The poor old lady, I perceived, was still holding her bundle in her lap, as if fearful of losing it. I wondered why she did not lay it down beside her, or under the seat, and so rid herself of that which gave her so much inconvenience and anxiety, but no amount of persuasion would induce her to do so, and she retained her bundle to the end of the journey; and as she was helped out she seemed to clasp it even tighter than before. The poor old lady brought to my mind two other kind of travelers, to be met with every day, who have their bundles—the sinner with his sins or his self-righteousness, and the christian with his troubles, cares, anxieties, and the like; and very large their bundles often are. Sometimes, too, of an unpleasant savor—especially the one who has been laboring hard for a number of years, in order to obtain salvation.

Doesn't it show how estranged the heart of man has become, when a christian feels that it requires no ordinary amount of courage to name the name of Christ in a railway carriage? It is felt to be a disturbing element—an unwelcome sound, and he who introduces it must be prepared for the reproach of Christ. God, an unwelcome visitor in the world He created and sustains by His power, and His Son still more so! Happy is he who can speak of the One who is dear to the heart of every child of God, and speak of Him, too, in such a way as shall send forth a sweet savor to some poor weary, heavy-laden one, because God honors that blessed name. But man is still the same as he ever was; and if he turned out the Son and heir, he is not likely to spare his followers.

We are traveling onward as through a tunnel, all darkness, but for the light which is introduced-borne on by power outside ourselves, the infidel and the wicked sharing with the christian the fruitful seasons which God gives. But with what different feelings the Giver is regarded—yea, even by His own children—as in a family, one child may have his heart engaged with the family honor, wealth, or distinction; another be altogether occupied with the father himself, and value his love and intercourse as greater treasure than all the wealth and distinction which he may be heir to. And blessed it is to let the light of life shine out amid the surrounding darkness, in order that some lonely wanderer may find the straight way, which leadeth unto life eternal.

Look what a big bundle that poor aged man carries—a life-time's sins! which is increased in bulk every hour, and which, if he be not rid of it, will one day sink him into endless woe. Shall we not let the light of truth shine, in order that he may see and feel its terrible weight and size, even though we be in danger of coming into contempt with the other passengers? Let us tell him how God has loved him, and what He has done in order that he may be set free from the weight of sin, and from its defilement—that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. A word spoken in season, how good is it! But he and his bundle are so closely connected, that they seem part and parcel of each other, and so they are; and iniquity is drawn round him as with cords; and sin, as it were, with a cart rope (Isa. 5:18). And pride may compass him about as a chain: and violence cover him as a garment (Psa. 73:6). Well, and what is to be done for him in his extremity! Can he free himself from that which binds him as with girths of iron? No. He is helpless. He needs a Deliverer. Perhaps the iron has entered his soul, and he longs for liberty! Well, then, if he believes the precious tale of the love of God—that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life—he shall be free. The sword of the Spirit can cut the strongest cart-rope that sin ever spun, or Satan ever bound the sinner with, in a moment. The cords and chains of the poor captive are as burnt tow before the mighty weapon which is sharper than a two-edged sword, when wielded by the Spirit of God. Has the poor sinner been so used to his bundle, that he is slow to give it up? It is so sometimes, and no easy task to persuade him to leave go his hold. Blessed be God, there are times when He is believed in a moment—the gospel comes in such constraining power, that He is credited instantly, and there is instant deliverance; and then the freed man sits in judgment upon himself and his bundle too, wondering how he could have groaned under its weight so long. The sword touches the bands, and the shoulders are released—the hands are set at liberty. Is not this how Scripture puts it? Look at every passage where the glad tidings are proclaimed and you will be struck with its beauty and simplicity.

Believe and live. Be not afraid, only believe. He that believeth bath everlasting life. Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved. Everywhere, where it is the question of the soul's salvation, the clearest and plainest language is used, so that there need be no mistake.

Man treats God worse than he treats his neighbor. Man tells his fellow tidings of some great event that has happened, and, as a rule, he is believed. It does not take years to credit his truthfulness. Oh, what has not sin done to cause this slowness of heart-this distrust in the God of all grace-who is???????????????????????????MISSING PAGES 38-39??????????????????????????????????????????

sinner to Christ is divine, for "he that believeth on the Son of God, HATH everlasting life.”

Another passenger, who has accepted the tract offered to him with thanks, and has heard the conversation, but too timid to venture a word while the compartment was full, now that we are alone, quietly asks if I really love the Lord Jesus? "Indeed I do, with all my heart and soul.”

“Well, I hope I do; but I don't love Him half enough.”

“That's true of the most devoted christian; but looking at our love to Him is not the way to increase it—that is beginning at the wrong end. The more we are occupied with His love to us, the more will ours increase; for we love Him because He first loved us. Have you peace with God through Christ Jesus?
“I don't enjoy much peace; sometimes I am happy, and then next day I am miserable. It seems all up and down with me.”

“But you know you are saved, surely?”

“Well, I hope I am, but should not like to say positively, I am saved.”

“But why should there be this uncertainty in eternal things? it is not so in temporal things? Where are you going?”

“To Westminster.”

“But are you sure you are in the right train? may be you are going to Moorgate Street.”

“Oh, no! I'm sure enough of that—doubly sure. I asked the guard, and I saw Westminster on the carriage.”

“Well, now, look at your Bible, and you will see that the believer is privileged to know his present sonship to God. I make inquiry of God Himself in His word, and He tells me I am His—bought with the blood of His own Son—that I have eternal life, and that I shall soon enter fully upon it; that I shall be with Christ, and not only so, but like Him forever. I read it for myself, as true of me, for Christ died for sinners: I am a sinner, the value of His death is mine. Moreover, we have the double witness, for "the Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit that we are the children of God" (Rom. 8:16).

“Then," said he, with great earnestness, "if you were to die to day, should you have no fear of death?”

“No," said I, "I have been free from that for many years. The flesh may shrink, but faith rests in quiet confidence on the word of the living God. In the 2nd of Hebrews you will see death looked at as a conquered foe, and in the 1 Cor. 3:22, death is the believer's servant. Besides, Scripture says, "He that feareth is not made perfect in love, because fear bath torment.”

“That's just my case," he replied; "my fears are great; and trouble and anxiety torment me so perpetually, that I am a stranger to peace and rest.”

“That's because you have a great bundle on your shoulders, which the Lord desires you to entrust Him with. It weighs you down and distracts your heart, and prevents your joying in and enjoying the love of God. He says, Roll thy burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain thee—Blessed are they that put their trust in me. As a sinner, I went to Him with my sins, and came away with His forgiveness. As a saint, I go to Him with my cares, anxieties, and troubles, and come away with His peace, to keep my heart and mind. Is it carelessness to trust every care to Him who bids me cast them on Him? Is He not worthy of all my trust? An eastern traveler tells us, that when the load which the camel has to carry across the desert is too heavy to be lifted up, the camel goes down upon his knees, and the ropes are stretched out, and the burden is rolled on the prostrate animal; the straps are thrown across, the burden made secure, and the camel, getting up, bears the burden away in its own strength. This is the thing referred to when the Lord says, Roll thy burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain thee. I cannot argue about it—faith is in exercise, and as a child I believe what my Father says, and I am helped. Troubles, cares, and anxieties come so thick sometimes, that it is no wonder that the load breaks the heart, when it is trying to bear its own burdens. He saves us with an everlasting salvation, and provides for us all the way. Oh, that we had a more simple, unquestioning faith, and that, too, in the face of the most trying circumstances. If we seek His guidance, and are walking as obedient children, what good thing will He withhold from us?”

“But you see many dear Christians very poor in this world!”

“That's where faith and trust shine brightest—because real dependence is there; that they should not trust in uncertain riches. Riches He gives, and often takes away; but what He wishes us to be occupied with, is that treasure He will never take away, and that is Christ. A man being poor does not hinder his joying in God; yea, it is often in the depths of poverty that Christ is more treasured, for better is a little that a righteous man hath, than the riches of many wicked. Besides, he well knows his blessings are not earthly, but heavenly—all treasured up in Christ. Some of the brightest christians I know are those who have to labor hard for what they have, and find it difficult to keep the wolf from the door, as we say; but in such cases, there is more real dependence, and not only contentment, but thanksgiving and praise: as the word says, ‘Hath not God chosen the poor of this world, rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom, which he hath promised to them that love him?’ (James 2:5.) I am sure care and trouble are the canker-worms which eat away many a Christian’s joy, and interrupt his communion with the Father, and with His Son Jesus Christ, because they fail to reckon upon the love and grace and power of God, who is caring for His people in all their need.”

“Some years ago, I heard of an incident which will help to illustrate this. A gentleman was driving along in his gig, and on his journey overtook a man with a heavy bundle on his shoulders. He saw the poor fellow was foot-sore and weary, and taking pity on him, pulled up, asking him if he would ride as far as he was going. The man accepted the offer, and seated himself beside the gentleman and they proceeded onward. In a little while the gentleman, observing the poor man had his bundle on his lap, said, 'Why don't you put your bundle under the seat?' The man timidly replied, 'I was so thankful, sir, for the lift you gave me, that I didn't like to trouble you more—I'll keep the bundle here.' The gentleman, pointing to his horse, said, 'What difference will it make to that animal, whether the bundle is on your knees or under the seat? but to you it is a difference, because you are not resting when you might be.'”

“That's simple enough," said my companion.

“But is it more so than what a believer is told to do? The unbelief among christians is astonishing. Look at the christian literature of the day, (with some happy exceptions here and there) doubt, and fear, and uncertainty fill its pages—the hymns learned from childhood are mostly of that character, and it grows with our growth, and strengthens with our strength. I must leave you at this station: farewell.”

“Farewell, I shall think of these things." "Do; and remember the word, 'Have faith in God.' Think of the camel and the burden.”

A word more and I have done. Fellow christian, is it the habit of your soul to unburden itself at the throne of grace, getting the needed succor? not to take it there and bring it away again, but to leave it with Him who has said, "Commit thy way unto the Lord: trust also in Him, and he shall bring it to pass." (Psa. 33:5.) What a precious exchange for that burden of cares, fears, and troubles: the peace of God the peace of God which passeth all understanding, keeping your heart and mind.

And what about your bundle, dear unconverted reader? Accept His invitation, who has said, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest," Oh! priceless exchange—the freedom and liberty—the peace and rest of Christ for the heavy burden of sin and iniquity. Don't stop short, but go direct to Christ, and you shall be free, and as His freed man, be able to go on your way rejoicing.

The Man at the Points

DURING a visit in the north or England, I was staying a little time with a pointsman on the line. His house being close to his box, I had a good opportunity of seeing his movements, and watched with interest the working of his instruments. As I sat and saw the watchful vigilance with which he surveyed the line (and from his glass tower he had an ample view of the various lines of rails, both up and down, from three different directions), sometimes casting an inquiring look at his clock, and then listening to the voice of his telegraphic communicator, or sending a message on to the next pointsman, I could not but see that he held a responsible place, and that upon his faithfulness or unfaithfulness depended both the lives of hundreds, and property to the value of thousands. Besides, he must have the confidence of his employers, or they would not put him in so important a position, for he needs a steady eye—a firm hand—and a wakeful disposition.

I could not help reflecting on the resemblance between him and the Lord's servant, the divine pointsman. The Lord's servants are in a place of trust; placed as they are along the whole line of service, and situate as they are in their towers of light, and from whence they are able to survey every point with the lamp of truth; knowing that all the little branches are for the purpose of picking up the one's and two's from the many isolated places, to join the great main line that runs direct from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of God's dear Son. Humanly speaking, how much depends upon the faithfulness and firmness of the Lord's servants; for in proportion to their faithfulness or unfaithfulness are souls drawn to, or driven from the way of life. “It is required in stewards that a man be found faithful." (I Cor. 4:2.)

I saw that the man acted according to his orders. Nothing was left to his inventive faculties, though there was room left for both discretion and judgment. So with the Lord's servants who are called to a place of trust, to guide souls aright from darkness to light—from death to life. They are to watch and pray. There is to be dependence and watchfulness; and if there is to be power, the servant must have the full assurance of faith, and the mind of Christ. How can a wavering or an ignorant servant act efficiently, or be of service to others, when he does not know whether he ought to be handling the divine points, which may put precious souls on the wrong line? much less can a stranger take the place of a well-instructed servant; although in divine things, alas! this is too much the case.

Nothing seemed to escape the observation of the man at the points. He seized the levers, and with firmness and decision brought over and braced up tight his different points, so that the express at its topmost speed, as well as the luggage train which wended quietly along, went by with confidence and safety; and then, as the last carriage had cleared its points, he could signal on to his fellow servant a-head that all was right. Had he a suspicion that any one had tampered with the line beyond him, then he had his signal, "CAUTION." At certain other times I saw he placed the ominous "DANGER" signal on high, and it would have been madness for anyone to have proceeded in the face of that; yet, no sooner was the obstacle removed, than "ALL CLEAR" announced that the whole line was free. How sorrowful, that the unconverted should choose to go on in spite of the assurance that destruction awaits them if they continue to travel in the wrong way!

Oh, dear pointsmen of the Lord! how are we acting? Has the truth of God such power over our souls and over our affections, that we feel it to be not only a duty but a place of the highest privilege to guide souls aright? Do we not know that, side by side with the lines of truth, Satan has laid his lines of error? and so cunningly, too, has he connected his points, that vigilance is needed, lest the unwary servant turn the too-confident traveler on to the line of error: in such cases how great a distance has been traversed before the mistake has been discovered-that instead of being on the line of truth, which leads to God and to heaven, they find themselves on the line of error, which leads to Satan and to hell. But, blessed be God, in cases where the right way is sought, the points are always close at hand, whether for restoration or salvation.

To put a train off a siding, or one from a down line, the pointsman, by his lever, brought over both rails. It would never have done to have brought over one only, that would have been fraught with danger. So I say with a christian; his doctrine and his walk must agree. The word of God insists upon a pure doctrine and a holy walk, or how can we be ensamples unto others? or how can we let our light so shine before men, that they may by our good works glorify our Father who is in heaven? It will never do to have a broad line of doctrine and a narrow line of walk. That does not honor God, and therefore He cannot honor us by using us for blessing to others. Men have their broad guage and their narrow guage: one boasts of his line being the safest way to heaven, while another contradicting it, assures the doubtful traveler that his is the only sure way; but, Jesus says, "If any man will do the will of God, he shall know of the doctrine (John 7); and He also says, "He that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life" (John 8:12). God has His guage, and only those who have Christ have wisdom to find it—Christ is the way, and the truth, and the life. If you would find the clue, you must find Christ; and He is found by believing what God path written concerning Him: that he that believeth on the Son of God bath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation. His guage is so broad that it will admit every one that comes as a poor, helpless, hopeless sinner, and accepts salvation as the gift of God, which will convey him to the blessed terminus of glory by the power of God; and yet His guage is so narrow, that it will receive none who have a single bit of goodness or self-righteousness. (Rom. 3) How can such ever hope to reach heaven? for unless a man is born again of the incorruptible word of God, he is unholy; and to be holy, he must have Christ by faith, for "without holiness no man shall see the Lord." (Heb. 12) I have known some whose doctrine is as high as can be, and whose walk is so low that the world calls them hypocrites. If a man is living Christ, as well as preaching Christ, there will be a sweet odor round about him. God will take care of that. If it is the reverse, it will be sorrow and judgment. If this be the case in a real christian, God will deal with him in discipline; he will be chastened, in order that he may not be condemned with the world.

A train came by, and the driver gave what seemed to me to be a whistle of inquiry, as to whether all were clear so that he might proceed; and the man responded with his signal, ‘all right.’ So I would say to the inquiring—or doubtful—or anxious soul, who asks, "What must I do to be saved?' I would say, look at the divine signal of truth which grace has raised—and which the most ignorant can understand—Believe on Christ, and live. There is nothing for you to do. One, even Jesus, who has gone on before, has cleared the whole line, in order that you might travel safely and securely to where He is. You are not even asked to help to move the points, or to put a finger to the lifting of the signal. No; everything is done. He has atoned for sin, and opened up a way to God for every one that believeth on Him. There could be no safe traveling on an unfinished railway. He does not want such as come to work and help, and therefore hope to be saved for what they have done, but "him that worketh not" is accepted. (Rom. 4:5.)

The Divine Workman undertook and finished the great work, and He says, "This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent." Do heed that pure light which assures you that all is clear: this will give you confidence and peace.

But if you would travel an inch in the new and living way which Jesus has opened, you must come empty—perfectly emptied of good works and resolutions, or whatever the load may be made up of. God wants empty sinners to fill with His bounty—His love and grace, His peace and joy.

Poor heavy-laden souls, whose hearts are full of sorrow because of that load of guilt—because of the burden of an accusing conscience, see that the cross is God's starting point, and testing point, too—there you will find release. Jesus says, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest" (Matt. 11:28). Yes, however heavily you may be laden with iniquity and hardened by sin, He will deliver you from the load, and rest shall be yours, and peace with God, if you will believe in Him whom God bath sent; then you will go on your way with rejoicing; and not only shall you be able to sing with the Psalmist, "He loadeth us with benefits," but you shall find it a path encompassed with glory, and the trials by the way working out for you a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. It is only those who are full and rich, and who want to purchase salvation, that are "sent empty away.”

To the cold and careless Christian who has believed on the name of Christ, but who has been beguiled from his simplicity in Christ, and whose walk is not according to Scripture, I would say, Do you not see the many cautions in the way of exhortations that are held out before your eyes? you are like an up-train on a down-line that leads to death and destruction. It is the case sometimes that a christian has gone on in the wrong way, in spite of exhortation and remonstrance, until he has had to be smashed to pieces as regards his body and his circumstances—and who but the God of all grace, who breaketh to pieces, can take those remnants and build them up again? there confession is needed, and "if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9). The apostle speaks of some being enemies to the cross of Christ, because of their carnal walk; (Phil. 3) and James says, to be a friend of the world is to be an enemy of God. (James 4:4.) It says, The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delighteth in his way (Psa. 37:23). Paul, that dear man of God, was so consciously living near to Him, that he could say, "Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ." Divine pointsman that he was, he was ever pointing upward: to the sinner it was Christ the Savior, to the saint it was Christ the Lord.

Am I speaking to a poor sinner, one who cares not on what line he is traveling? I would say, See you that solemn "DANGER" signal there? Read it: "He that believeth not shall be damned!" Is not that painfully plain? Will you not stop your downward course? see, there is the turn-table close at hand, whereby you may be turned in the right direction. How rich and full are the provisions of grace—there it is, just where you stop—"The truth as it is in Jesus:" the truth whereby you are turned from darkness to light—from the power of Satan unto God, that you may receive forgiveness of sins, and an inheritance among them that are sanctified by faith in Christ. (Acts 26:18.)

You may as well expect that engine to turn itself without being brought to the turn-table, as to hope you can be turned to God by anything you can do, whether by crying, sorrowing, or suffering. The Thessalonians were turned from idols to the true God by belief in the truth; and thus they had their faces heaven-ward, and were waiting for the Son from heaven. Oh! you who are traveling on that broad guage to destruction, get on to that turn-table which grace has provided, in order that you may be led to the narrow guage that leadeth unto life eternal.

How well provided was the man at the points both for day and night. High up—above bridges and banks, through the dark night, did the various colored lights throw their beams, warning or assuring the distant travelers the state of things a-head. And when the thick fog sought to cloud the brilliant rays, then he had his fog-signals in readiness to announce if danger threatened. So does the gospel sound its warning notes of danger to a poor benighted traveler, when the thick clouds of error seem to obscure or dim the brilliant rays of divine truth that shine on every hand through the dark night of the world's history and ways. Hark at its solemn sound: "He that believeth not the Son shall not see life but the wrath of God abideth on him." (John 3)

The man at the points looked at his clock, which told him that the time was short; the hour was fast approaching when he would cease to handle the levers, and when he would no longer raise the signal, but would leave the post of service to go home—the place of rest and honor. How far more precious than worldly wealth or worldly honor will be that "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord" to every one who has sought to stand loyal to Christ—as a divinely-sent pointsman, who pointed to Christ as the way, and the only way, that leadeth unto life eternal. But it has a voice also for the unconverted: it tells of a coming hour when the last signal shall be lowered, and the lamps extinguished, never more to be lighted; when the lever and the points shall be untouched—when the door shall be closed, and the watch—tower shall be empty—when the last train shall have conveyed the very latest passenger home. Oh 1 what a scene of darkness and confusion will that be: not a ray of light to illume that thick darkness which will go on increasing till it ends in the “blackness of darkness forever;” not a sound of welcome to be heard amidst the pain, and anguish, and sorrow of the judgments that shall come upon the ungodly, which shall end in "weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth." Would you, dear unconverted reader, escape this? Then come while you may; then believe what God has said about His Son: that whosoever believeth on Him shall not perish, but have. everlasting life: and for you there shall be a home and a welcome when the day of service is over and the toil is ended, and you shall enter into the rest that remaineth for the people of God-a rest which shall not be disturbed by sin or sorrow, or sullied by failure-and where all will be according to His heart, whose glory and joy it is to have His people near to Himself.

Forty Shillings and Costs

THIS was the fine inflicted on a man who had gained access to a carriage on the railway by stealth, and who had thought of traveling the whole distance without detection. But to his dismay he had to face that officer who strikes terror to the heart of the dishonest traveler,—the ticket collector. The demand of that official as he came to the door with, "Tickets!" seemed backed by all the power of the law; that little word made the stout offender quail. The man was obstinate in his refusal to pay the demand made upon him, and so he was handed over to the police. The result was announced in a bill at the stations with a "Caution" to travelers, and with this addition, "and in default of payment was committed to prison." "How stupid of the man," said a fellow-traveler, who had been listening to the conversation, "to go against the company's rules." Ah, my friend, it is the old tale—disobedience. Man is radically bad by nature, and now and then he shows his badness by his works. If the company have been at the expense of providing means whereby travelers can reach a distant place, they have a right to make their own conditions; and one is, that every intending traveler shall pay, or some one shall pay for him, his fare for that journey before he puts a foot in a carriage. If he disobeys, then he lays himself open to the law; and once the law gets hold of him, it will not let him go till he has paid the uttermost farthing.

I only use the narrative to illustrate the way in which many act in the question of eternity: they have desires after heaven, and would fain reach there, but, alas! it is in their own way. With many it is only to be reached after a hard and tortuous struggle, a life of self-sacrifice, a continual conflict with a sinful nature which never yields to mortal hand. But is this how heaven is reached according to the scriptures? Will a man ever have peace with God by these means? Surely not, for it is declared, "To him that worketh not, but believeth on him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness;' he only shall be saved (Rom. 4:5).

The man had not paid, and added to this, he refused still to pay, and he was righteously handed over to the prison authorities, to pay the penalty inflicted by an outraged law. The collector was not expected to show grace, he was there to do justice, and the law demanded satisfaction; the terms were well known, and it was flagrant disobedience. So the word of God says in reference to the gospel of the grace of God: "He that believeth on the Son of God shall be saved"—saved from death, judgment, and hell—saved from the dreaded great white throne and the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone; and then announces the terrible fine inflicted on the guilty one—the one who refuses to believe that Christ has died to save the sinner: "He that believeth not, shall be damned." Does that offend your ear? Better offend the ear to reach the conscience and the heart, than to sing soft songs to lull the conscience to sleep, only to wake up in a scene of blackness and darkness forever.

Remember, we have to do with God. All that He required to be done to atone for sin, and to put it away from His sight forever, was done by Jesus, and He will not have His mercy slighted. If a man will not have heaven, he must have hell: if he will not by believing the glad tidings receive forgiveness of sins, and be brought into the family of God, he must receive the wages of sin,-death! and he will have to share eternity with all who have not obeyed the gospel-destruction from the presence of the Lord and the glory of His power.

If you, dear unconverted reader, will not have to do with God in grace, you will have to do with Him in judgment, and think not to escape then. The uttermost farthing will be demanded, "and in default of payment, committed to prison;" and what a prison! Once enter its gloomy portals, there is no coming out again—God says it is "forever," and that is a solemn reality. But judgment is His strange work, for He delights in mercy: "He is rich in mercy, because of His great love wherewith He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses and sins;" and He sent Jesus as a proof of His great love, and gave Him up to death, even the death of the cross, that we might not perish, but have everlasting life. To the debtors it was: "And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both." Mercy was shown to both the fifty and five hundred pence debtors; for as both were penniless, both, therefore, stood in need of mercy. (Luke 7:41, 42.)

Dear unconverted reader, you have nothing wherewith to pay the demands of a holy God, or of His law. How could you meet Him if He demanded payment? You could not; He knows this, and because He loved you, He found a ransom for you, and that ransom, His only begotten Son, who by His death met every demand for the sinner, and is therefore forgiving all who come to Him as sinners in need of mercy. He does not delight in sending a poor sinner to the prison-house of death, and the lake of fire, for He is rich in mercy to all that come to Him through Christ. Had you the influence of the best and wisest men of the earth you could not avert the sentence, no more than you could meet the requirements of a holy God. Besides, the best man of the earth needs forgiveness as well as the worst one, because God says, "all have sinned and come short of the glory of God;" therefore none can reach up to that standard of divine excellence. The only One who could do so has done it, as He said, "I have glorified thee on the earth; I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do." (John 17) The judgment-seat says, "the uttermost farthing." The mercy-seat cries, "forgiveness of sins." The Judge will have to say, "Depart from me." The God of grace cries, "Come unto me.”

Why should He keep calling? Why do you turn a deaf ear to His invitation? Has the world anything to offer like the God of all grace? No, its joys and pleasures are as fleeting as the morning dew—its glory as the flower of the grass, which to-day is bright and beautiful, and to-morrow is gone no one knows whither. If the tale of the love of God—the grace of Christ, will not win you—what will? There is nothing like the telling out of the love of God to a poor sinner. The terrors of the eternal prison-house of judgment may frighten; but the knowledge of Himself, His person, His work, the sent one of the Father, draws the heart: for this He died "the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God.”

Only Room for a Little Child

THE huge bell which the porter had been ringing to announce the approach of an important through-train in the west of England had scarcely ceased its vibrations, ere the powerful engine dashed in at the farther end with its long line of carriages. A moment more, and "Stand back! stand back!" from the porters caused the crowd to bend inwards, and then to rush backwards and forwards. Every one appeared on the tip-toe of expectation. As the train came to a stand-still, many a bright countenance might be seen at the windows, as a well-known face was recognized on the platform; many a hand of welcome was waved as friend met friend after a long absence; the hearty grasp speaking expressively their mutual joy and pleasure; while here and there a sad face, or an unmoved countenance spoke plainly that the scene was to them but one of excitement, or devoid of interest—that there was none in that crowd who awoke a chord of sympathy in their hearts—that they were indeed lonely travelers, gazing on the joy or sorrow of others—but which had no personal interest to themselves. How painful at times this seems, and what a sense of loneliness creeps over the mind, as we find ourselves strangers in a multitude—not a smile of welcome—not a word of kindly greeting, and so pass from station to station, again and again noting the time, and thus measuring the distance between us and the end of the journey—thought traveling faster than the express which dashes along so wildly—to a little group where all our affections are centered. An elderly gentleman might be seen opening and looking into one of the carriages for a vacant seat, when he was accosted by several voices, "No room, Sir: only room for a little child." The aged man looked up with a smile into the many faces that were gazing at him, and gently replied, "My dear ladies, many years ago I learned what it was to become a little child to enter the kingdom of God, and have been endeavoring to live as a little child ever since, and will enter the carriage as one, even now.”

There was something more than ordinary in the tone and manner of the aged pilgrim, and his words found an entrance to the hearts of the objectors; and making way, several at once exclaimed, "Oh! if you take the place of a little child, we will find room for you:" hands were extended, and he was soon seated among them. Once more the impatient whistle of the engine responded to the equally impatient signal of the guard, and again that living freight of precious souls was being hurried along towards the Metropolis.

The dear old christian has since then gone home—entered into his rest, swelling the numbers of the blood-redeemed ones, who have departed to be with Christ: not one of whom have entered heaven without becoming a little child—who have received eternal life as the gift of God, in all the unquestioning, unreasoning confidence of a little one, who takes at once whatever the loving hand of a parent may offer it.

I have often marked the difference between two passengers in the same carriage. One full of fear and agitation at the least unusual sound, or the sudden scream of the shrill whistle, as it warned some distant signalman of its approach; while the other sat unmoved, in the quiet confidence of faith in the skill and wisdom of those who had the management of the train. This may be likened to two christians, who are both traveling homeward: the one always fearing, always doubting if he shall ever reach heaven at last, and depriving himself of present enjoyment, which a full assurance gives to the heart; while the other, being rid of that fear which giveth torment, is free to exult in the grace that has saved him everlastingly; and not only so, but in the God of all grace Himself, in whose love he rests in the face of circumstances that tend oftentimes to depress the soul. Why is this? Because one has learned to look away from everything unto Jesus; while the other is being tossed about through listening to a deceitful heart, and the suggestions of the enemy. Oh! that there were more child-like faith toward God. What pure delight would christians possess, and peace that passeth understanding. But God will have reality! Living faith links us with the living God. No wonder we are not honored with that which is above all price—blessed and abiding peace with God—when we do not honor Him with our confidence: do not with wholeheartedness rest and trust in Christ, whose precious blood cleanseth from all sin.

A man may pass for a christian among men—may be very religious, and yet not have a purged conscience; men may be deceived, but God cannot be. A man may pass himself off as my son among strangers who do not know me, and so deceive them; but it would not do for him to enter my house on that pretense; he would not dare confront me; detection and disgrace would follow at once.

Again, I saw a man in the same train with me on one occasion who had entered without a ticket: he had no right to be there, it was despising the Company's conditions; whose rule is, that no one shall travel without a ticket. What fear that man was in whenever we stopped; he had a bad conscience, and so he quailed before the eye of any official that happened to look in. When we arrived at our journey's end, I noticed the man's countenance, it was filled with fear—he was ill at ease; and as we passed the ticket gatherer, each one giving up his ticket, the man not being able to produce one, was told to stand aside, where he had to wait till the crowd was gone, and then to be conducted to the manager, and to be dealt with "according to law.”

Another rule is, that the ticket shall be produced whenever it shall be demanded by any official on any part of the line. Well, if we have acted in obedience to the Company's rules we do not object to its demands, whenever and wheresoever they may be made. And is not this a Christian’s case, when he knows the matter of sin has been settled, atonement has been made—yea, that his sins are forgiven—before he takes a step in the road to heaven? can he not, as Peter says, give a reason of the hope that is in him with reverence and godly fear? Assuredly he can, he is not afraid of the keen eye of the one who ridicules Christianity, nor need he fear the day of trial, whatever it may be, it will but reveal the true character of the metal. As another said, "Faith loves difficulties, because there is ground for triumph." Difficulties and obstacles prove a man's skill; so do the trials by the way prove the reality of a man's faith. This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith, and power is linked with faith. What a beautiful figure that engine is of a christian, a vessel filled with power, in itself nothing, only as it can be acted on by power within, and then what mighty things can it achieve. So is he who believes in the Son of God to the saving of the soul: his body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, and he is exhorted to be filled with the Spirit, or to let Him have the supreme control of the vessel; and then, not only will he be able to go on in triumph, but he will draw others after him in the same path to glory.

The way to God is indeed a narrow path, so narrow that the Door will admit no one but a little child, and to such the arms of divine love are stretched out to bring him closer to a heart that never disappoints; and yet the Door is so wide that it will admit all who do thus come, as Christ (who is the Door) has said, "Whosoever cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast.”

The ticket-gatherer did not ask my name, nor did he want to know whether I were nobly connected or otherwise, his eye was on the ticket, was that genuine? His sharp eye would soon have discovered a forgery, and so I was free to pass. So I say with the believer in Christ: he does not fear the day of judgment, because he is delivered from the wrath to come, and will be in the glory with Christ long before the judgment sets in. Mind, there is no departure from the terms laid down. Except a man become as a little child he cannot enter the kingdom of God. What cares a little child for all the riches of the world, or for its grandeur? a parent's embrace is more precious than either and more enjoyed than all; and so with the man that becomes as a little child—a new-born child, born of the incorruptible word of God—born of the water and of the Spirit; the fact that he has tasted that the Lord is gracious, is better than thousands of gold and silver, and sweeter than honey or the honey-comb.

How is it with my reader, saved or not saved? Would you enter the banquet-house, and let your eye rest on the banner that floats overhead—the banner of love? It must be as a little child, there is only room for such. God's house must be filled. Shall you occupy a place there? or, will it be a place in the dungeon of everlasting woe? It must be one or the other. Jesus still receives little children; he receives not the strong and working-man, that is, the man who wants to help in the matter of salvation; but he takes up little children in His arms and blesses them; and they shall be blessed, even with Himself, when the wealth of the world shall have wasted, and its glory passed as the morning dew.

Left Luggage

I WAS on my way to a distant village to preach the gospel to sinners, and on arriving at the Station, found I was a little before time, but there was a great number of people there before me, and as the time approached when the little door was to be lifted and the tickets handed through the aperture, the place was densely thronged by the eager crowd, pressing and pushing, impatient to get the first turn. Knowing the train would not go without us, I stood aside, content to take my turn when the crush had ceased, and as we had to wait some five minutes more I had time to meditate a little upon the scene before me.

I could not help contrasting this eager, impatient crowd, waiting at that little narrow aperture, to purchase a ticket to enable them to reach their destination, with the door of life, which God has opened for the reception of all who would enter His home and rest—for all Who would accept eternal life as His gift.

Each traveler had an object before him, and to attain that was content to bear the pressure before and behind, rather than be defeated of his purpose, and in more than one case, where a little advantage was gained, the angry flush was seen upon the countenance. It seemed surprising how much inconvenience that impatient crowd could bear, till it pleased the man behind the little door to lift his panel and satisfy the demands of his earnest spectators.

I say the contrast was striking as to eternal things, for God by His servant declares when He opened His door, that, instead of an eager multitude waiting and pressing to enter in, there was not one—not even seeking after Him; so that if He is to have one guest at His banquet-board, He must Himself seek the sinner.

How little man thinks about God, or what God has done for him in order to save him, is apparent everywhere I go. Man thinks of himself, and if he thinks of death, and it strikes a terror into his soul, he tries to soothe himself by making the best of it. Even Railway Companies, while offering to carry people at a very low rate to some place where they may spend a few fleeting hours of pleasure, put up the startling intelligence that they may not reach the place. Many things might occur on a journey: a collision, or the train might be run off the rails, and death may make a terrible havoc of the holiday folk; but then, on the payment of a trifle, a large sum of money shall be paid to the survivors.

There was that little tablet with its three lines of figures for its different classes of insurances placed just before the small opening, where you had to stoop to gain a view of the man behind, so near to your gaze that you could not help seeing it. It seemed to me a warning, and told me of the uncertainty of life; how frail, how short, yet how little cared for! One young man who was traveling my way, looked at the figures on the little placard, and after receiving his ticket, put down two pence for an insurance ticket, and with the forethought of a man of business, put the ticket into an envelope, directed it with his pencil, and dropped it into the box on the platform, and observing "that if he were killed, his friends would have a nice round sum.”

“Wasn't I going to take an insurance ticket?" he asked.

“Oh no," I said, "I am not expecting an accident, or I would not go. I put my trust in God to give us traveling mercies. I look to Him to give the driver and the guard wisdom and care; and when I know I am in my right path, I can sit as quietly here as at home.”

Who can tell how much God is caring for that train full of passengers, because there is one—perhaps only one—of His children on some errand of mercy; or, it may be that God allows the collision because a disobedient child is there whose conscience has to be reached in discipline. Is a disobedient Jonah asleep? the whole ship shall creak, and the whole crew be affrighted by the pressure of the storm that is raging around. It takes a great storm to arouse some consciences.

That little tablet, like a host of other things, tells of want of faith in the living God. Did any trust Him without a full and gracious answer to his soul?

On taking my seat, I found the compartment not only had its compliment of passengers, but an undue quantity of luggage, which would have been much safer with the man in the break-van, but the owners would on no account part with their boxes and parcels. For my own part in natural things, and divine things, too, I like to have a free, unencumbered spirit; and if I must have luggage, I put it under the seat, or over-head, or trust it to him whose business it is to care for travelers. Sometimes in my journeyings I fall in company with a traveler who has so many boxes—every one of which may be marked, "SELF, WITH CARE," that is a positive burden to be long in his company. I feel it to be so, because, through God's grace, all my luggage, comprising sin, self, and care, is behind in the left-luggage room. Ah! no, blessed be God, it is more than that, it is like the useless rubbish in the "Unclaimed Department," which is all cleared out and consumed after a time. The cross has made an end of me and my belongings. Did I say useless? ah, worse than that, the burden was positively contagious. And what is so contagious as sin? Therefore it had to be burned up. So I say, with a thankful heart, it is all gone. I don't want to go to that "left luggage" office to look after my loathsome luggage. It would not even be remembered, as God says, "Thy sins and thine iniquities will I remember no more.”

I sometimes fall in with a dear christian who is surrounded with such a variety of boxes and parcels, that there is no getting near him. Haven't you sometimes sought a little intercourse with a christian, and found that to get at his heart, you have to cut through a host of bundles? Sometimes it is through a row of houses, or it may be a growing business, or a great cash box; things that not only fill the heart, but the hands, too, so that you can scarcely get even a brotherly salutation. There are times when these things demand attention, and there are times when the packages should be laid on the shelves; for says the apostle, "I would have you without carefulness." I like the simple faith of an old christian in the country, who, when speaking of circumstances, said, "God knows every slice of bread and butter I shall want." That is the sort of company I like to travel in, and that is what I call traveling on the "high level." The reason, perhaps, of so much perplexity of heart, and sorrow, too, is because we will travel on the "low level." All these things bring so vividly before my mind the condition and position of the believer in Christ, whose conscience is clear, whose heart is free: the one by the work of Christ, the other by the person of Christ.

Poor heavy-burdened christian, let me bring another illustration before your gaze. Look at that strong porter with his huge luggage basket and trolly—why, dear me, it receives all the luggage that is in the van, and see how easily he bears it away to the appointed place. Does not that bring before your mind the gracious care of Him who cares for and watches over you with a Father's thoughtful care? He who bears up "the world, and they that dwell therein," will He sink beneath your tiny bit? Trust Him! and you shall rejoice in a freed spirit. And you, poor sinner, do you like the heavy bale of sin and sins so much that you don't want to get rid of them? On the cross, where Jesus atoned for sin by the sacrifice of Himself, He was the sin-bearer. Was your portion borne there? or is it left for that day when it will have to be claimed? Some men's sins go on before to judgment, and some follow after, says the Word of God. Where are yours? You may forget them, but God cannot, and in that searching day they will be brought to light, and however carefully packed all will be seen, and if you do not believe in the name of the only-begotten Son of God, you and yours will have to be consumed in the fire which never can be quenched; for if you have to do with God out of Christ you will find Him a consuming fire. But He desires not the death of a sinner, and in order that you might not perish, He gave up His Son to the death of the cross.

Sometimes, when I want to be perfectly free from personal luggage when going on a long journey, I send it all on before, so that all I have to do is to step in and to step out; what a precious thought is that! I stept in at first through God's grace, and am borne along by His almighty power and grace He caring for me in all my need throughout the journey, and when shall have come its end, it will be stepping out, just one step out of a scene of death and sorrow, and darkness and sin, into the presence of the Lord, where there is fullness of joy and pleasures for evermore, sin left behind, consumed and gone; hopes and affections packed up and gone before—the affections set upon Him who fills all heaven with His glory. This reminds me of an old writer who years ago sang,

"What have I here? My thoughts and joys

Are all packed up and gone,

My eager soul would follow them

To Thine eternal throne.

What have I in this barren land?

My Jesus is not here;

Mine eyes will ne'er be blest until

My Jesus cloth appear.

My Jesus is gone up to heaven

To get a place for me,

For 'tis His will that where He is,

There should His servants be.

I have a God that changeth not,

Why should I be perplexed?

My God, that owns me in this world,

Will own me in the next.

My dearest friends they dwell above, -

Them will I go to see;

And all my friends in Christ below

Will soon come after me.”

Whither are you going, reader? on what line do you travel—upward or downward? it must be one or the other. If you are called away, will it be true of you that there is that left behind in the left-luggage office which you must claim, and which will be consumed with you? Solemn though! May you accept what God is giving so freely, that is, eternal life through faith in His beloved Son, for he that believeth on the Son of God, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment.

The day of the great white throne will be a searching one. Everything will be brought to light-all the hidden things of darkness will be revealed. Not an action will escape the scrutinizing eye of Him who sits upon that throne. What will avail the filthy rags of self-righteousness for a covering? There will be no mistake as to whose are the works. Yours will not be mistaken for another's—nor another's for yours. If to stand before the highest judges of the land, at an earthly tribunal, would make you tremble, how much more will the heart quail when summoned before that terrible throne? I only desire to bring the solemnity of it before you, that you may accept God's salvation, and find in Him a Savior instead of a Judge. He is not going to bring those into judgment whose sins and judgment He bore away. They shall share with Him a glorious eternity.

Let me ask you to read the following solemn words: "And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away; and there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened; and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works. And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death. And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire." (Rev. 20:11-15)

That is the solemn portion of all who reject Christ. May you, dear reader, not be found among those who shall be summoned there in that great and terrible day. Turn not away from Him that speaks from heaven, who bids you look to Him and be saved; and that you may know that your name is written in the Lamb's book of life. What quietness of heart there is when the word of God is relied on and trusted in. "The beloved disciple" in his epistle says in conclusion: "This is the record, that God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life." (1 John 5:11, 12.)

The Way Out

RIGHT glad am I to find, after a long journey, that the train is entering the station at C-, where I want to alight. An important junction this, and, of course, no small commotion follows the arrival of certain trains; and for awhile all is hurry and confusion. The huge platform is crowded with passengers of all classes, for it is summer time, and this is a great halting-place for passengers, who are going to, or returning from the various watering places on the northern coast. A variety of character is here; and it is interesting to notice the different characteristics of the various travelers, and their conduct at the arrival and departure of the many trains that come and go. There is one poor timid thing here, peering anxiously into every compartment, as the snake-like train glides gently along the platform. Ah! she has an object before her mind. She is looking for some one, and joy or disappointment follow the recognition or non-appearance of the expected visitor.

There is another, who is amused with everything, yet interested in nothing particular—the purposeless man, who passes through the world, and out of it, without aim—without pursuit.

There is a third, by whose bearing you can see he is a world in himself, the center round which all things should move, having no thought, no heart for anything where self is not the center.

But I pause, to ask myself the question, How many of this vast concourse of people are going heaven-ward; and if there are any who are looking for the Lord Jesus, the Son of God, from heaven—the blessed object before the eye of faith? God only knows. However, He knoweth them that are His. But, christian reader, don't you sometimes seem drawn to a fellow-traveler, feeling sure that he belongs to Christ, yet cannot muster courage to ask the question? and is it not cheering to make the discovery, the more so, if the truth has such a hold upon your heart, that Christ and His word have their rightful place therein? and if, as is too often the case, your fellow-traveler be weak in the faith, or filled with doubts and fears, you may be able to minister comfort and strength?

I am a stranger at this station and want to go to the town a little distance off, to see a friend. The vast net-work of lines looks confusion itself to one unacquainted with their workings. Every official seems too busy and bustling to give you a correct answer; and many a servant is guilty of directing a confiding passenger wrong. So I pace up and down for the place of exit. The station seems to abound with doors, and I peer into one after another cautiously. If I step over the threshold of some, I shall be guilty of trespass, for "PRIVATE" is marked thereon. Then, again, I see the "SUPERINTENDENT'S OFFICE" on another. Well, no doubt he could give me every information; but so high a personage cannot be expected to interest himself with the affairs and troubles of travelers. A striking contrast indeed to Him who is the brightness of the Father's glory, the express image of His person-who is interested in us, and touched with the feelings of our infirmities, and knows how to succor them that are tempted. I lift my eyes, and see the very thing I need; there it is, amidst the variety of notices for the information of travelers—there it hangs, clear and unmistakeable -

THE WAY OUT

Is there any difficulty? Not only are the words simple and to the purpose, but the finger points to the identical door. It requires but a glance—I am satisfied, and act upon it.

This brought to my thoughts, and I want to bring it to your thoughts, unconverted one, the cross of Christ. Do you know you are in a scene of sin and confusion, and that the cross is the way, and the only way out of it? There is no drawing nigh to God but by that way; as Jesus said of Himself, (in connection with the cross) "I am the way;" "No man cometh unto the Father but by me;" and "him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out." Perhaps you are a traveler in the "waiting room." Ah! there are a good many people there—and in divine things they never seem to get any farther—don't know whether they are going up or down; ready apparently for a start, yet afraid to move. There is one thing about the "waiting room" that strikes me, and that is, with all the richness of the furniture sometimes found in them, there is ever an absence of homeliness. Whoever felt at home in such a place? A workman's cottage is better, because it is made sacred by the ties of love, and because the affections have room to display themselves. So I say again, in divine things this is the case, too. Many Christians are now in the waiting room of doubt and fear, instead of being in the regions of home, or resting in assurance that they are on the "up-line." That is what the cross does for the poor sinner. It is the way out from sin, death, and judgment; and the way in to the richest place of blessing that God can bless a believer with.

There is the sinner, too—I mean one with an exercised conscience—in the same place of waiting. You may put the gospel never so simple, yet it seems to impart no joy, no certainty to him. Unbelief is at work. Like the man at a certain station, who asked of the porter the way to W-.

“That's the way out, Sir, there, where that board is with the finger on it: go out there, keep straight on, and you will come to W-.”

“No turnings to take?" again asked the man.

“No," says the porter; "keep straight on.”

Yet, notwithstanding this positive statement, before he gets a dozen paces, he inquires again.

Now is not this often the case? Indeed, some people seem to like the turnings, instead of going straight on. I affirm, the gospel states it as clearly as that board does. Believe and live! It points to Christ who died for sinners. As soon as I read that board, I was out, yea, clean out, and on my way to the house of my friend. And this is what the cross teaches me: that I am clean out of the place of judgment, and on my way home. It points me to Christ, who makes heaven home to my soul. What a joy it is at the end of a long journey to find a friend awaiting you to take you home—to lay aside the traveling garments, and enjoy the company and comforts of home. I don't like the waiting room! it is so cold and cheerless; merely the formal courtesies—no welcome countenance, and no happy unrestrained conversation. Now, what I find so precious to my heart in thinking of heaven is, that it is home, for it is to be with One I love—One who loves me. What would be the value of costly pictures and expensive furniture which filled the rooms to the child returning from school, and no father, no mother there? I like the abruptness of Paul in 1 Thess. 4., when speaking of the descent of the Lord into the air, with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and the trump of God, to catch His people away to meet Him there; and so, says he, "shall we ever be with the Lord.”

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