Links of Love: A Series of Short Gospel Stories for Young and Old
Table of Contents
You Lovely Man, Or Yeddie's First and Last Communion
A POOR idiot, who was supported by his parish in the Highlands of Scotland, passed his time in wandering from house to house. He was silent and peaceable, and won the pity of all kind hearts. He had little power to converse with his fellowmen, but seemed, often in loving communion with Him who, while He is the high and holy One, condescends to men of low estate. Yeddie, as he was called, was in the habit of whispering and muttering to himself as he trudged along the highway, or performed the simple tasks which any neighbor felt at liberty to demand of him. The boys, while they were never cruel to him, often got a little fun out of his odd ways. He believed every word they said to him; and because he had been told in sport that if he once rode over the hills to Kirk in a donkey-cart he would never be heir to the Earl of Glen-Allan, he refused all the fine offers of farmers and cotters, and replied always in the same words: "Na, na; ill luck falls on me the day I mount a cart; so I'll aye gang on my ain feet up to the courts of the Lord's house, and be talking to Himsel’ as I gang.”
Once, when a merry boy heard him pleading earnestly with some unseen one, he asked; "What ghost or goblin are you begging favors of now Yeddie?" "Neither the one nor the tither, laddie," he replied. "I was just having a few words wi' Him that neither yersel' nor I can see, and yet wi' Him that sees the baith o' us!" The poor fellow was talking to God, while the careless wise one said, "He's talking to himself.”
One day Yeddie presented himself in his coarse frock and his hob-nailed shoes before the minister, and making a bow much like that of a wooden toy when pulled by a string, he said, "Please, minister, let poor Yeddie eat supper On the coming day wi' the Lord Jesus." The good man was preparing for the observance of the Lord's Supper, which came quarterly in that thinly settled region, and was celebrated by several churches together; so that the concourse of people made it necessary to hold the services in the open air. He was too busy to be disturbed by the simple youth, and so strove to put him off as gently as possible. But Yeddie pleaded—"Oh, minister, if ye but kenned how I love Him, ye would let me go where He's to sit at table!" This so touched his heart that permission was given, for Yeddie to take his seat with the rest. And although he had many miles to trudge over hill and moor, he was on the ground long before those who drove good horses.
As the service proceeded, tears flowed freely from the eyes of the poor "innocent;" and at the name of Jesus he would shake his Head mournfully, and whisper, "But I dinna see Him." At length, however, after partaking of the hallowed elements, he raised his heed, wiped away the traces of his tears, and looking in the minister's face, nodded, and smiled. Then he covered his face with his hands, and buried it between-his knees, and remained in that posture till the parting blessing was given, and the people began to scatter. He then rose, and with a face lighted with joy, and yet marked with solemnity, he followed the rest.
One and another from his own parish spoke, to him; but he made no reply until pressed by some of the boys. Then he said, “Ah! lads, dinna, bid Yeddie talk to-day! He's seen the face o' the Lord Jesus among His ain ones. He got a smile, fra' His eye, and a word fra’ His tongue; and he's afeared to speak lest he lose memory O'; for it's but a bad memory he has at the best. Ah! lads, lads, I ha' seen Him this day that I never seed before, I ha' seen these dull eyes you lovely Man. Dinna ye speak but just leave poor Yeddie to His company."
The boys looked on in wonder; and one whispered to, another, "Sure he's na longer daft? The senses ha' come into his head, and he looks and speaks like a wise one." When Yeddie reached the poor cot he called "home," he dared not speak to the "granny" who sheltered him, lest he might, as he said, "lose the bonny face." He left his porridge and treacle untested; and after smiling on and patting the faded cheek of the old woman, to show her that he was not out of humor, he climbed the ladder, to the poor loft where his pallet of straw was, to get another look and another word "fra' you lovely Man." And his voice was heard below in low tones: "Ay, Lord, it's just poor me that has been se long seeking Ye; and now we'll bide togither, and never part more! Oh ay! but this is a bonny loft, all goold and precious stones. The hall o' the castle is a poor place to my loft this bonny night!" And then his voice grew softer and softer till it died away.
Granny sat over the smoldering peat below, with, her elbows on her knees, relating in loud whispers to a neighboring crone the stories of the boys who had preceded Yeddie from the service, and also his own strange words and appearance. "And beside all this," she said in a hoarse whisper, "he refused to taste his supper—a thing he had never done before since the parish paid his keeping. More than that, he often ate his own portion and mine too, and then cried for more; such a fearful appetite he had. But tonight, when he cam' in faint wi' the long road he had come, he cried, Na meat for me, granny I ha' had a feast which I feel within me while I live; I supped wi' the Lord Jesus, and noo I must gang up the loft and sleep wi' Him.”
“Noo, Mary," replied granny's guest, "doesna' that remind ye O' the words, O' our Lord Himsel', when He tell'd them that bid Him eat, ‘I ha' meat to eat that ye know not of?’ Who'll dare to say that the blessed hand that fed the multitude when they were seated on the grass, has na' this day been feeding the hungry soul o' poor Yeddie as he sat at His table! Ah! Mary, we little know what humble work He will stoop to do for His ain puir ones who cry day and night to Him! We canna tell noo but this daft laddie will be greater in the kingdom of heaven than the Earl himsel', puir body, that looks very little noo as if he'd be able to crowd in at the pearly gate!" "And oh, Jane, if ye could ha' seen the face O' your poor lad as he cam' into the cot! It just shone like the light; and at first, even afore he spoke a word, I thocht he was carrying a candle in his hand! I believe in my soul, good neebor, 'that Yeddie, was in great company to-day, and that the same shining was on him as was on Moses and Elias, when they talked with Jesus on the mount, e'en hope he brocht the blessing home wi' him to 'bide on the widow that was too auld and feeble to walk to the table; but who has borne with him, and toiled patiently with him, because he was one of the Lord's little and feeble ones.”
"Oo, aye, doubtless he did bring 'home the blessing, and that ye'll get the reward of these many cups o' cold water ye've given him; for what's the few pence or shillings the parish grants ye, compared wi' the mother's care ye give him," said Jane.
"Aweel, aweel," replied granny, "if I get the reward it'll not be because I wrought for that. I seemed ne'er to ken syne the day took the dark and orphanted lad, that I was minding and feeding, and clothing one o' these little ones; and I ken it better to-night than ever. I ha' strange new feelings mysel’ too, neebor, and I'm minded o' the hour when our blessed Master came and stood among His faithful ones—the door being shut—and said, 'Peace unto you.' Sure this strange heavenly calm can no' be of earth; and who shall say that Himsel' is not here beside us twa, come to this poor place more for the daft lad's sake than our ain?” And thus these lowly women talked of Him whom their souls loved, their hearts burning within them as they talked.
When the morrow's sun rose, "granny," unwilling to disturb the weary Yeddie, left her poor pillow to perform his humble tasks. She brought peat from the stack, and water from the spring; spread her humble table, and made her "porridge;" and then remembering that he went supperless to bed, she called him from the foot of the ladder. There was no reply. She called again and again; but there was no sound above but the wind whistling through the openings in the thatch. She had not ascended the rickety ladder for years; but anxiety gave strength to her limbs, and she stood in the poor garret which had long sheltered the half-idiot boy. Before a rude, stool, half sitting, half kneeling, with his head resting on his folded arms, she found Yeddie. She laid her hand upon his head but instantly recoiled in terror. The heavy iron crown bad been lifted from his brow, and, while she was sleeping, had been replaced with the crown of the ransomed, which fadeth not away. Yeddie had caught a glimpse of Jesus, and could not live apart from Him. As he had supped, so he slept, with Him.
A deep awe fell on the parish and the minister at this evident token that Christ had been among them; and the funeral of the idiot boy was attended from far and wide. A solemnity rarely seen was noticed there, as if a great loss had fallen on the community, instead of the parish having been relieved of a burden. Poor "granny" was not left alone in her cot; for He, who had come thither after that last supper with Yeddie, was with her, even to the end.
The Last Strand of the Rope
IN the year 18—, on one of the remote islands of Western Scotland, there lived a poor widow and her son. He was her stay and support, though only sixteen-years of age. They were very poor, and to help their scanty meals Ronald, her son, used to collect sea-birds' eggs, upon the neighboring cliffs. This feat was accompanied with considerable danger, for the birds used often to attack him and put his life in danger.
One day, having received his mother's blessing, Ronald set off to the cliffs, having supplied himself with a strong rope, by which to get down, and a knife to strike the bird, should he be attacked. How magnificent was that scene! The cliff rose several hundred feet above the sea, whose wild waves lashed madly against it, dashing the glittering spray far and near.
Ronald fastened one end of the rope firmly upon the, top of the cliff, and the other round his waist, and was then lowered until he got opposite one of those fissures in which the birds build, when he gave the signal to his companions not to let him down any further. He planted his foot on a slight projection of the rock, grasped, with one hand his knife, and with the other tried to take the eggs. Just then a bird flew at him and attacked him. He made a blow with the knife; but, oh! horrible to narrate, in place of striking the bird, he struck the rope, and, having severed some of the strands, he hung suspended over that wild abyss of raging waves by only a few threads of hemp. He uttered a piercing exclamation, which was heard by his companions above, who saw his danger, and gently tried to draw him up. Awful moment! As they drew in each coil, Ronald felt thread after thread giving way. "O Lord! save me," was his first agonizing cry; and then, "O Lord! comfort my dear mother." He closed his eyes on the awful scene as he felt the rope gradually breaking. He nears the top; but, oh! the rope is breaking. Another and another pull; then a snap, and now there is but one strand supporting him. He nears the top; his friends reach over to grasp him; he is not yet within their reach. One more haul of the rope. It strains; it unravels under his weight. He looks below at the dark waste of boiling, fathomless water, and then above to the glorious heavens. He feels he is going. He hears the wild cry of his companions, the frantic shriek of his fond mother, as they hold her back from rushing to try to rescue her child from destruction. He knows no more; reason yields; he becomes insensible. But just as the rope is giving way, a friend stretches forward at the risk of being dragged over the cliff. A strong hand grasps him, and Ronald is saved.
Dear reader, if you are unsaved, I want you, in this true and simple narrative, to see your own condition. If living for this world, you are frittering away your precious moments in pursuing perishing trifles. By the cord of life you are suspended over the awful abyss of eternal perdition.
As year after year passes away, the rope of life becomes smaller and smaller. Strand after, strand snaps as the knell of each departing year tolls its mournful notes. How many threads are now left, can you tell? Perhaps by, one slender thread you are now suspended, and ere this year expires that thread may snap and send you, unprepared, unsaved, into the presence of your Maker.
Dear friend, do you realize your awful position? It cannot be worse. How vividly Ronald realized his position in that fearful moment when the last strand was giving way, thread by thread-when, overcome by the sense of his danger, and when that danger was most imminent, a strong hand was stretched out to save him, which brought him safely beyond the reach of further danger, and placed him in the loving arms of his parent!
May the Lord reveal to you, dear unsaved one, your danger, that you may flee at once to the Savior of sinners. Dear sinner, you are lost by sin—lost to holiness, to God, to heaven—but Jesus "came to seek and to save the lost.” Ere it be too late, will you trust yourself to Jesus? On the cross He was" made sin." He perfectly met and satisfied all the righteous claims of God against sin, so that you are now as welcome to come to Christ as the saved thief (Luke 23) or saved jailor (Acts 16) both now in the Paradise of God. Every barrier is removed on God's part-every obstacle put away, so that the moment you take God at His word and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ you are saved.
It Was for Me
ONE stormy Sunday afternoon, at the hour when a class of young women usually gathered in a little mountain cottage, one young girl only waited for her teacher.
She had been learning during the week the sweet words contained in the 53rd of Isaiah; and as she toiled up the hillside, she had been repeating the verses to herself; but they were only to her then, as the "very lovely song of one who had a pleasant voice." She did not know the meaning of "being healed by His stripes.”
After prayer, with which the hour of teaching always began, Mary repeated the first four verses of her chapter. When she reached the fifth verse of Isaiah 53—"He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed," the tears filled her eyes, and before reaching the end of the verse her head sunk down, and the fast falling tears dropped on the open Bible before her, as she sobbed out—
"It was for me, it was for me!"
The intense solemnity of that moment prevented any other words being spoken than these in answer to her words—"Let us thank Him, dear child, that it was for you:" and they knelt down, and after the teacher had thanked the Lord for opening the blind eyes of her dear scholar to see Jesus as her substitute, the weeping girl in broken words said—
"Lord Jesus I thank Thee that Thou didst die for me, that Thou didst take my punishment:" and then the sweet calm of conscious acceptance in the Beloved stole into the broken heart, and peace with God was sweetly realized.
Dear young reader, have you ever known the joy of knowing that "the Lord Jesus was wounded for your transgressions, that He was bruised for your iniquities?”
The Blood Which Cleanseth
A VISITOR among the poor was one day climbing the broken staircase which led to a garret, in one of the worst parts of London, when his attention, was arrested by a man of peculiarly ferocious and repulsive countenance, who stood upon the landing-place, leaning, with folded, arms, against the wall. There was something about the man's appearance which made the visitor shudder, and his first impulse was to go back. He made an effort; however, to get into conversation with him, and told him that he came there with the desire to do him good and to see him happy and that the book he held in his hand contained the secret of all happiness. The ruffian shook him off as if he had been a viper, and bade him begone with his nonsense, or he would kick him downstairs. While the visitor was endeavoring with gentleness and patience to argue the point with him, he was startled by hearing a feeble voice, which appeared to come from behind one of the broken doors that opened upon the landing, say, ‘Does your book tell of the blood which cleanseth from all sin?’ For the moment the visitor was too absorbed in the case of the hardened sinner before him to answer the inquiry, and it was repeated in urgent and thrilling tones, ‘Tell me, oh, tell me, does your book tell of the blood which cleanseth from all sin?’
“The visitor pushed open the door, and entered the room. It was a wretched place, wholly destitute of furniture except a three legged stool, and a bundle of straw in a corner, upon which were stretched the wasted limbs of an aged woman. When the visitor entered she raised herself upon one elbow, fixed her eyes eagerly upon him and, repeated her former question, ‘Does your book tell of the blood which cleanseth from all sin?' He sat down upon the stool beside her and inquired, ‘My poor friend, what do you want to know of the blood, that cleanseth from all sin?' There was something fearful in the energy of her voice and manner as she replied, 'What do I want to know of it? Man, I am dying; I am going to Stand naked before God. I have been a wicked woman, a very wicked woman, all my life. I shall have to answer for everything I have done!' And she groaned bitterly as the thought of a lifetime's iniquity, seemed to cross her soul. 'But once,' she continued, ‘once, years ago, I came by the door of a chapel, and I went in, I don't know what for; I was soon out again; but one word I heard there I have never forgot. It was something about blood which cleanseth from all sin. Oh, if I could hear of it now! Tell me, tell me, if there is anything about the blood in your book!' The visitor answered by opening his Bible and reading the first chapter of the First Epistle of St. John. The poor creature seemed to devour the words, and when he paused she exclaimed, ‘Read more, read more.' He read the second chapter of 1 John—a slight noise made him look round; the savage ruffian had followed him into, his mother's room, and though his face was partly turned away, the visitor could perceive tears rolling down his cheeks. The visitor read the third, fourth, and fifth chapters of 1 John before he could get his poor listener to consent that he should stop, and then she would not let him go till he promised to come again the next day. He never from that time missed a day reading to her until she died, six weeks afterward; and very blessed was it to see how, almost from the first, she seemed to find peace in believing in Jesus. Every day the son followed the visitor into his mother's room, and listened in silence, but not in indifference. On the day of her funeral, he beckoned him to one side, as they were filling, up the grave, and said, ‘Sir, there is nothing I should so much like as to spend the rest of my life in telling others of the blood which cleanseth from all sin.'”
Dear reader, Jesus Christ, by His perfect work on the Cross, has met—blessedly met every charge which a Holy God could have against a sinner believing in Jesus. Had death, the wages of sin to be met? Yes; but Christ died for us (Rom. 5:6). Had "the judgment" to be encountered? Yes but Christ was offered to bear the sins of many (Heb. 9:28). But "How am I to get to God?" some one may ask. "By the blood of Christ," says one Apostle; He died—the Just for the unjust—that He might bring us to God, says another. Thus, your whole condition has been met; your wretched case, in all its detail, has been looked at and gone into by God, and fully provided for in Christ Jesus.
What now remains to do? Simply and only, thy reception of this wondrous Salvation. Marvelous truth! Grace unparalleled! Jesus claims salvation for the sinner. Yes; God is just to Christ, in forgiving sin, in imparting Eternal Life to the one who will believe in Jesus, who will only cling to His finished work. And why so? Because Christ bore sin's judgment; entering fully and thoroughly into the mind of God, about our sin and guilt-thus satisfying God, yea, glorifying Him about the whole question. And now, Christ raised from the dead by the might of God, and glorified too, at His right hand, is Heaven's witness and proof to thee that all, all is done, and more too—that God will receive thee—yea, the joy of thy coming to Him will be mutual; for He says, "Let us eat and be merry." Salvation is of grace. Eternal Life is the gift of God. But, though all pure grace to the still it is the just right of Christ to receive it: thus the soul is established and kept in perfect peace. My whole standing is in grate; but, blessed thought! Christ—has obtained "Eternal Redemption." He hath wrought, He hath labored, He hath toiled. His is now the reward; for, based upon the atoning work begun and finished on Calvary, God can now, in righteousness to Jesus, show out His grace to thee. What a perfect work to rest upon! What a solid and enduring foundation! Can it ever fail? Can it ever lose one atom of its power to cleanse the deepest, most wretched, most vile and ungodly sinner that will come to Jesus? Never. Oh, then, believe God's faithful word? Trust Christ's accomplished work and thou shalt be saved.
Deliverance From Above (Or, the Faithful Shepherd) - a Story for the Young
IT was a bright calm summer day. Everything seemed joyful; and over all the lovely scene was cast that beautiful hue which makes the mountains look almost as if they were enchanted ground. A troubled mind was strangely out of character with such a spot as this, where the mountain streams sparkled in the sunlight as they danced merrily onward to the sea. Yet there was one whose heart was sad and heavy:—it was the shepherd. With his practiced eye he had discovered a sheep and lamb far away upon the mountain side on a narrow ledge of rock. It was not for the value of them he cared; but pity moved his heart—he loved the sheep.
"They must have wandered away," said the shepherd, "jumping down from rock to rock, as they were led on by tempting little tufts of green grass. It was easy enough for them to get down where they are now, but they couldn't possibly jump up again; and if they are, left there, shortly they'll starves or may be they'll jump down the precipice, and he dashed to pieces amongst the rocks below, and I can't bear to think of the poor things dying there.”
The poor man in his distress pointed out to us the sheep at a great distance off, where right above them was a perpendicular' rock, and below them an equally precipitous descent into the valley of rocks and stones beneath. The position the sheep had got themselves into by their own folly and waywardness, made us call to mind the Scripture in the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah. "All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way.”
"How can you rescue these poor sheep that your heart is so set upon, shepherd?”
"Well, sir, there's only one way; we must go to the top of that rock yonder, and I'll tie a rope round my body, and twist the other end round a tree; then whilst one or two men hold it, they’ll lower me down to just where the sheep are.”
“But," said a friend of mine, "is it not very dangerous work?”
"Ay, It is dangerous—it's at the risk of my life. There's no one else in the valley that dares try it, for fear the rope might break. But then, you see, sir, I couldn't be happy without making the effort-only to think of the poor things dying there! Sometimes, I've known though, they won't be saved; and after my trouble, and going through all that for them, just when I'd take them up in my arms and carry them safe to the top, they jump away from me (poor foolish things), and perish amongst the rocks, down the precipice. I've known one found with every bone in its body broken.”
"And then, after you have saved them, shepherd, will they not return to the old places of danger?”
"Well, you see, sir, they might if they were left to themselves; but then, you know, I don't do that. I bring them home to the flock; and for fear they might be tempted again by the tufts of green, I shall take a box of matches in my pocket, and burn the grass. It's easy to burn now, this dry weather.”
That evening the shepherd went forth upon the mountains, leaving his comfortable little home and friends, for he could get, no rest there until the lost ones were found. As he went away on his hazardous enterprise to accomplish all that was in his heart for the poor sheep, we were left thinking of Him who speaks of Himself, John 10, as the Good Shepherd. Surrounded by the glory of heaven, the Lord left it all. He emptied Himself and came into this world to suffer and die—and all that for Us! We had gone astray like the lost sheep; but He had no pleasure in the death of the wicked. Though we had brought the judgment of God and His just wrath upon us, yet, though it was all our own fault, He was moved with compassion as He beheld us lost, perishing in our sins on the brink of that awful eternal precipice—the bottomless pit.
The Lord Jesus Christ knew it was far more truly impossible for us to get back to God than even for these poor lost sheep to return to their shepherd. Many people have tried it, and many are still trying to work their way back into God's, favor but all their efforts are useless and vain. And so the blessed Lord, seeing our utter helplessness to do anything but perish, came to seek and to save that which was lost. When there was no eye to pity, the shepherd's eye pitied; and when there was no arm to save, the shepherd's arm brought deliverance. As the Lord says in Ezek. 16, "None eye pitied thee, to do any of these unto thee, to have compassion upon thee... But when I passed by thee, and saw thee polluted in thine own blood, I said unto thee, when thou wast in thy blood, Live." Notice, dear young reader; it was no hireling or stranger, but the Shepherd Himself. And as yesterday, none was found so bold or so willing as the shepherd to risk his life for the sake of the sheep, so, too, with the Lord Jesus. He, indeed, was the only one who could bring deliverance to us. And how did He do this? It was not at the mere risking of His life like this shepherd, suspended by the rope over the precipices. No; it was effected by His actually giving up His life, and dying in our stead, in substitution for us.
The sheep we have been reading of had nothing to do to save themselves, they could do nothing; their salvation was all of the shepherd from first to last. Deliverance came to them from above; and they were carried up to the top, safe and sound in the shepherd's arms. Everything depended on him. Just so in the Gospel, it all depends on Christ. Has He done the work, and has He done it for me—the poor lost one? He has satisfied God—God is glorified. The very work for our salvation was planned by God Himself. Then God must have been for me from first to last. And I believe on Him that raised up Jesus our Lord from the dead; who was delivered for our offenses, and raised again for our justification (Rom. 4). As the shepherd brought his sheep home rejoicing, having destroyed the dangerous tempting spots of green grass, so the Lord watches over His own, caring for them to the end. The one who saves is the one who keeps.
Dear young reader, if you are not saved by God's salvation, it is not because Christ is unwilling to save you; oh, no for He waits at this moment to be gracious. Turn not away from Him, for if you refuse Him, the only Savior, you must perish eternally. Be not like the foolish sheep that turned away from the shepherd, and falling down the precipice was dashed to pieces. Believe now on the Lord, and thou shalt be saved.
A little lamb went straying
Among the hills one day,
Leaving its faithful shepherd
Because it loved to stray;
And while the sun shone brightly,
It knew no thought of fear,
For flowers around, were blooming,
And balmy was the air.
But night came over quickly,
The hollow breezes blew-
The sun soon ceased its shining,
All dark and dismal grew;
The little lamb stood bleating,
As well indeed it might,
So far from home and shepherd,
And on so dark a night.
But ah! the faithful shepherd
Soon missed the little thing,
And onward went to seek it
And home again to bring;
He sought on hill, in valley,
And called it by its name-
He sought, nor ceased his seeking
Until he found his lamb.
For sin each lamb had ruined,
And far from God had led.
But oh! what love unbounded-
He suffered in their stead!
And now, dear little children,
The Shepherd's up on high,
Who came to seek the straying
Who all deserved to die.
God's Way of Salvation
“God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth (trusteth) in Him, should not perish, but have everlasting life." —John 3:16.
GOD'S way, I say; for man has his way of salvation, and God has His, and man's way is not God's way. "Your ways are not My ways, saith the Lord" (Isa. 55:8).
This verse may be called "THE GOSPEL TEXT;" for here we have the whole Gospel briefly stated— 1. The source of salvation—"the love of God:"
2. The channel through which it comes—"His only-begotten Son:" and
3. The way by which we receive it—"Faith in His Son.”
Perhaps you will tell me, “Oh, I have read that verse a thousand times." Perhaps you have; but have you ever really believed it—that is, taken it to yourself as one of the "whosoever’s," trusted in Christ, and so got "everlasting life?” Can you say that?
A Christian friend told me how he found salvation in this verse. He took it, read it word by word—believed as he read—applied it to himself—TRUSTED THE SON—and had everlasting life. Multitudes have done the same—have you, dear reader? If not, may the Lord help you to do so wow
Just let us look at it—a word or two at a time—always remembering, "This is God's Word, and GOD MEANS WHAT HE SAYS:"—
GOD—That is the first word. Salvation begins with GOD. Here is man's first mistake. Man begins with himself: God begins with Himself. Man asks, "What must I do?” God says, "See what I have done." Friend, turn from yourself to GOD. Hear what HE says—see what HE has done.
LOVED THE WORLD! LOVED—Salvation springs from the love of God. "Loved” what? THE WORLD—a world of Sinners. Wondrous love! But, remember, sinners must accept that love, else it will do them NO GOOD.
But I hays omitted a word, have I not?—a little word, but big with meaning-
SO—O that "SO!"—"God so loved the world, that” What? HE GAVE HIS ONLY-BEGOTTEN SON!
HE GAVE—Salvation is a GIFT. "The gift of God is eternal life" (Rom. 6:23). Friend, are you, trying to buy it? It is beyond price; therefore it is "without price" (Isa. 55:1). God cannot sell it—you cannot buy it; but God offers, it as a gift—a present. Do you take it? Only TAKE it, and you live forever!
He gave—what? HIS ONLY-BEGOTTEN SON. "His Son"—"His ONLY-BEGOTTEN SON." What a gift! What a sacrifice! What love that made it! "This life is in His Son"—not in you, but in His Son (see 1 John 5:11, 12). Therefore take Him and you have life.
"God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son"—Now, what for?
"THAT WHOSOEVER BELIEVETH (trusteth) IN HIM, SHOULD (or, may) NOT PERISH, BUT SAVE, EVERLASTING LIFE.”
WHOSOEVER—Perhaps you say, "How may I know that salvation is offered to me?" Well, what says God?—"WHOSOEVER"—whosoever in this world of sinners. That is YOU, my friend, is it not?—you cannot deny it!
BELIEVETH, or TRUSTETH. Now, dear friend, it is as important to, see what God does NOT say as what He does say. Now mark, He does NOT say—
(1) Whosoever is so and so—is a moral, respectable, honest person—well spoken of by the world, and a member or office-bearer of the Church. This is Man's First Way of Salvation—CHARACTER. It was the Pharisee's way—"O God, I thank Thee I AM not as other men." And no he "trusted in himself" (see Luke 18:11 and 9). Was he "justified?" No (Luke 18:14). Why? Because that was only what he was in his own eight, and in the sight of his fellowmen; in GOD'S sight he was "as other men"—a sinner, for "all have sinned." In that point, "THERE IS NO DIFFERENCE" (Rom. 3:22, 23). By nature in God's sight, and God is the Judge, "THERE IS NONE RIGHTEOUS, NO, NOT ONE” (Rom. 3:10).
(2) God does not say—Whosoever DOES so and so. This is Man's Second Way of Salvation— WORKS. My unsaved friend, what can you do? You are a sinner, and therefore "dead"—"dead in trespasses and sins"(Eph. 2:1). Now, what can dead people do? Nothing. It is life you need, and it is life God offers you.
People talk about "good works." Did it ever strike you—"What good works can a sinner do?” As is the tree, so is its fruit; as is the man, so are his works. If you are a sinner, your, works are sinful; and if sinful, of course they are worth nothing. Thus, you see, a sinner can't do good works.
But does God ask you as a sinner to do them? No. Listen:—"By the deeds of the law shell no flesh be justified IN HIS SIGHT" (Rom. 3:20). "NOT or WORKS" (Eph. 2:9). Please Gal. 2:16—a verse in which we are three times told that salvation is not by works, and three times that it is by faith. Surely this is enough!
(3) God does not say—Whosoever FEELS so and so. This is Man's Third Way of Salvation— FEELINGS. This is a common mistake with anxious souls. "Oh," says one, "if I could only feel some new feeling within me, I think I should be right." You think so; but does God say so? Never. He does not ask you to feel, but to believe His word and trust His Son.
I know what you want. You want to feel “the joy of Salvation." But how can you feel that, till first you HAVE SALVATION? A drowning man can't feel the joy of being saved till first he is saved; no more can you. And as feeling can't save him, so neither can it save you. Salvation is a FACT—not a feeling, and rests, not feelings, but on FACTS—three great facts—Jesus died, was buried, and has risen again for sinners (1 Cor. 15:3, 4). Thus, then, God does not say, Whosoever is, or does, or feels so and so; but He DOES say that Whosoever
BELIEVETH—that is, TRUSTETH. TRUSTETH is a better word, because it brings out the nature of true faith better. But trusteth in whom?
IN HIM—THE SON OF GOD. Not in yourself, or in yourself and Jesus together, but in JESUS—JESUS ONLY.
SHOULD NOT PERISH—for perish you shall, if you do not trust in Christ. Salvation implies danger. Did you ever think of that? Friend, your sin is your danger. If you are unsaved, you are in a terrible state, and on the way to a terrible doom! Escape to Christ, trust in Him, and then you shall not perish-
BUT HAVE EVERLASTING LIFE—a present and an everlasting life. How glorious!
Now, let me sum up. If you, a poor sinner, no matter what you are or are not—no matter what you have done or not done—no matter what you have felt or not felt—(for God says nothing about any of these things, and we must not say anything either)—if you, I say, now trust in Jesus alone—what He is, has done, and felt, YOU HAVE SALVATION; and if you believe God's Word, you will have the ASSURANCE of it too; for God says that "Whosoever trusteth in His Son hath everlasting life.”
Mark 16:16; Acts 2:38, 41, 42.
The Warning Bell, Or, Now Is Salvation Day
PASSING along the main thoroughfare of a large seaport town, not long ago, I noticed that people were hurrying past me, hot and breathless, towards the end of the street. It was quite dark, and to the stranger it became a matter of surprise why such haste was manifested without any apparent cause or object.
I was making my way to the railway station, but there was plenty of time, and I had no cause to exert myself unnecessarily. But seeing the "eager, anxious throng" pushing onward, I quickly made my way over the footbridge which spans the lock-pit, between two docks, and forms part of the main road.
The bell which had been ringing for some minutes then ceased, and all hurry and bustle amongst the foot-passengers as suddenly subsided.
On inquiry I found that in this great town which is intersected by docks, vessels are at certain intervals passed through the dock-gates, during which times the draw-bridge is lifted, and all traffic is suspended—sometimes for half-an-hour at a stretch. In order to give due notice of this obstruction, the gatekeeper rings a large bell as a note of warning, and those acquainted with the usages of the place are at once aware that unless they make haste they will be delayed.
A gentleman who, like myself, had "just saved the bridge," exclaimed breathlessly, "Thank God for that bell ringing! If I had not got over, I should have been lost, for the train in which I am going on a matter of vital importance leaves in so many minutes, and 'time and trains wait for no man.’”
'Midst the flickering of the lamps on the quay side could see the rapidly gathering crowd. Some had rushed up "just in time to be too late," Others had been sauntering lazily along, heedless of the warning bell, And how many there might have been amongst that company to whom a few minutes were just then of vital importance!
To my mind a very striking analogy was suggested; and it is one of those lessons which anyone of us may profit by, if we keep our, eyed open to the circumstances which surround us in our everyday life.
The bell of grace rings out an invitation to the sinner; the voice of the preacher echoes God's message, "Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation." The glad tidings of a dying Savior's love are told out by those who have been sought and found by the meek and lowly Jesus.
We see young and old hastening on in the rate of life; and though the night is dark, and the object of their pursuit is undiscerned by those around them, yet they press forward towards the object they have in view.
Others, again, linger by the way, disregarding the ringing of the bell, or the affectionate appeal of the preacher. They have “plenty of time.” They want to get over the bridge, and they mean to do so, but there is no cause to hurry.
Presently the bell stops, and the bridge it raised. Those who have passed safely over are at once peaceful and calm in the certain knowledge that their onward course will be unimpeded. On the other side, there are many expressions of vexation and disappointment, anxiety and regret.
Dear young reader, the hour is coming—God only knows how soon—when the bell of grace will be hushed forever! The preacher and those who have crossed over will be occupied in singing the song of the redeemed in the presence of the King of Glory, and the door, which no man can open, will be shut
forever!
Are you striving to enter in at the strait gate whilst the warning bell is yet ringing? It may be that the last of its shrill notes are now being wafted to your ears, and that presently there may be joy and peace on one side, and blank despair on the other.
The gate is still ajar—nay, wide open; and the message of God's love is ringing in your ears—"Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.”
I Know Not What to Do
A NOBLE-LOOKING soldier lay very ill. "I want to speak to you about religion," he said, as I sat by his bedside; “I have made up my mind," he continued, "with an earnest resolution, to serve God and do my duty—not with the feeble resolution of a boy, but with man's determined purpose, that henceforward I will do right." At some length he told me what he was going to do; he spoke about his vows, his purposes, his plans. All was about himself, not one word about Christ the Savior.
Having listened to him quietly, I said at last,
"Then you are at peace, dear friend.”
"Oh no," he said, "my agony of mind only increases.”
"Why so? Have you not kept your vows?”
"No; I cannot," he answered despairingly.
"Had you not better then try again; or can you think of no way of making up the account?”
He shook his head hopelessly and said, "I know not what to do.”
"My friend," I replied,” you had better stop your vowing. Satan has enticed you on to one of his quicksands, where you are fast sinking. Your house is on the sand. You cannot be your own Savior. Listen to God's way of saving sinners. Jesus Christ—God manifest in the flesh—came into the world to save sinners, not to help them to save themselves. His work was finished on the cross More than eighteen hundred years ago, and He has left you nothing to, do but to receive by faith the benefit of what He has done. "He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life." "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved" (John 3:36; Acts 16:31).
It was evident that during our conversation the Spirit of God was dealing with my soldier friend, and at last he owned himself a lost and helpless sinner with no power in himself to keep his good resolutions. Then he was inclined to look to his own heart for "happy feelings.”
I said, "Do you believe the testimony of God concerning Christ? This is the question, and not the evidence of happy feelings. These are changeable as the wind. Take your thoughts completely off yourself, and look to Jesus. Do you believe in Him?”
He answered earnestly, "With all my heart I do.”
“The Lord's name be praised—to Him alone be all the glory.
“‘He that believeth that Jesus, is the Christ is born of God.' ‘He that believeth hath everlasting life.' And observe, my friend, it is not can have, may have, or shall have, but hath everlasting life. What a salvation! Full pardon, everlasting life, peace with God, and only waiting for glory." The invalid soldier at last said, "Now I know on God's testimony that I have eternal life.”
Dear young reader, how is it with you? Do you know the Lord Jesus as your own Savior?
"There is life in a look at the Crucified One;
There is life at this moment for thee;
Then look, sinner, look unto Him and be saved,
Unto Him who was nailed to the tree.
"Oh take, with rejoicing, from Jesus at once
The life everlasting He gives;
And know with assurance thou never canst die
Since Jesus, thy righteousness, lives.”
The Missing Receipt, Or, Keep Yourselves in the Love of God
OLD ROBIN was seated by his window, with, spectacles on face, busily rummaging a little drawer filled with loose papers, when, the door opened, and a cheerful voice called out—“There's fine weather, Robin. This will fit your rheumatics nicely. How are ye coming on?”
“Oh, is that you Mirran? I come awa' ben and see," said the old man, flinging down his handful of papers, and hastening to bring a chair.
“Never mind a chair, thank ye, Robin, for I mustn't sit down," said Mirran. "I was passing up the gate, and thinks I to mysel' I havena seen Robin for a month, so I'll just lift his sneck, and ask how he is. Are ye any better, think ye, Robin?"
"Oh, thank ye, Mirran, I'm a great deal better; but will you not try to bide a wee?"
"I canna bide lang” said Mirran. "However, since I’m in, I may venture to sit for fifteen minutes. But I’m disturbing you, I fear."
“No, no," cried Robin; “that business can stand ouer a wee. I hae been huntin' after a receipt for a bit sum o' money, which I'm almost sure I paid already, and which I have sweer-will to pay twice over, if it can be avoided."
"Na," said Mirran; "maybe I could help you to seek for't, I'm rather quicker in the sicht than you.”
And the two renewed the search, which Mirran speedily brought to a successful issue by discovering the desired document.
"Now; Robin," said Mirran, "ye see that its worth while to keep your auld receipts beside you, for you may come to want them some day.”
"Deed is it,” replied Robin. "I paid pretty dear in my youth to be taucht that lesson; but I have kept good mind o't.”
"And, Robin," said Mirran, in a low and tender voice, "aye be sure to keep your accounts weel red up between God and your soul; for it is a mischancie thing to lose His receipt.”
"What do you mean by that?" asked Robin, with a puzzled air.
"Ah," said she, “I have paid dear, dear-rather dearer maybe than you did—to be taucht this lesson, and, like you, I wad fain keep good mind o't. But what a happy out-gate frae such a sorrow, when ane is led to the blood of Jesus as a sufficient ransom for a sinfu' soul; and sees that, through what His Son has done, God can be just, and yet also be the justifier of the guilty sinner that believes in Jesus.”
"Weel, then, Robin," continued Mirran; "did ye ever lose God's receipt after ye had gotten’t? Did ye ever, by your carnal sloth and your careless walking, lose faith's sight o' the precious blood, and let go your hold on a good conscience, and forget, as Peter says, that you were purged frae your auld sins?”
“Ay, woman," said Robin, "I ken ouer much about it—mair than the maist o' folks, I fear. 'Deed, to tell you the truth, after that I lost the first receipt, I've never got the business richt red up sin' syne; and I have never had the same sweet and strengthening assurance o' the Lord's being my God. At the best, I'm aye troubled wi' the fear that I’m only a hypocrite; and now and then, when I'm at the warst, I feel quite assured that I am.”
"I believe you, Robin," said Mirran; " God abhors backsliding above everything else; and therefore He makes the backslider's life bitter to him, that we may learn to abhor it, and to dread it, and to watch in prayer against it. And so, when we lose our receipts or assurances through carelessness and unbelief, He often leaves us to have more trouble and heart-breaking sorrow about their renewal than we had in getting them at the first. But God's receipt canna be lost.”
"Very likely, very likely," said the old man with a melancholy shake of the head; “but what's to be done in a case like mine, when my receipt's fairly gone? I wad gladly give a' that I have to feel as I ance felt; but I canna see how that is ever to be. I opened my mind to your cousin, but he said that I was looking ouer much in to mysel', and ouer little out to my Savior; that I should walk more by faith, and never trouble mysel' wi' frames and feelings:'
"And did ye take his advice?”
“I tried hard, hard, to do it, but it winna work wi’ me. Think ye, Mirran, that it wad be possible to get my auld receipt back again?”
"No," said Mirran, after a moment's pause; "I do not think that God ever gives a mere duplicate o' an mild receipt, which contains a full and free discharge up to this moment. Ask Him for a sicht of the auld receipt.
"That's what I'm wantin', Mirran; but that's the very thing I canna get accomplished!”
"Then be sure, Robin, that, the fault's your ain.”
“I ken that; but wad fain have it mended if I could see how it's to be done. Whereaboots lies the fault in me, think ye?" said Robin, anxiously.
“Robin, ye ken that Jesus was raised up from the dead by the glory of God. He died and was raised ance. Now, Christ, risen and exalted, is God's receipt in full to every sinner believing on Him; that's it and naething else.”
Mirran paused, but Robin was silent.
"And then, as for writing the receipt, that it is God's part to do, and not yours. O Robin, man, look simply as a needy sinner to the Savior of needy sinners, and faith's happy sicht o’ Him will give you instant deliverance.”
"That's what I feel I'm needin'," said Robin, "and your words give me a bit glimmer o' licht; but I'm in great darkness, not so much about general gospel truth, as about its personal application to mysel'. I'm an uncommonly dark and hard-hearted man.”
“Just like the rest o' us, Robin. Ye're a clear case for free and sovereign mercy; for if that dinna meet us, you and I are gone. But when was it that you got that receipt which you have in your hand?"
“I got it when I paid the money," replied Robin.
"Exactly! You had no right to it before, and your creditor had no reason to withhold it after; and therefore, so soon as you settled his claim, you received your discharge. Now, Robin, though we canna o' oursels settle God's claim on us as debtors, the Lord Jesus has fully done it; and all the settlement that is required at our hands is, that we consent to, receive God's forgiveness on the spot and God's grand receipt—Christ's resurrection; that can ne'er be lost —never, for Christ is in glory. Then, too, God writes a full discharge on the heart and conscience—'Being justified by faith, we have peace with God.’”
Robin's face was brightening a little.
"I think, Mirran," said he, "that ye've really discovered the root of the whole evil; and yet I never suspected it. Oh, woman, I hae a wonderfu' hard and unbelievin' heart; however, I feel jist a wee kennin' o’ the warmth and sweetness that I wad like to feel mair o’. Ye wadna hae me to sit down contented just as I am, wad ye? Should I not seek to feel very differently frae what I am doing?”
"Certainly," said Mirran; “press on, press on; but still, take good care to see that you are on the richt road before you press onward in't. If ye be seeking for a state o' soul in which ye’ll be better pleased wi' yoursel’ then ye’ll never get, it; and the more you press forward in this road, the farther will you go wrong.”
"Yes, Mirran," said the old man; “this is the victory that overcometh the world, and overcometh a' else, even our faith. But how is decayed faith to be revived, think ye? Ye see I'm just like a schule wean that has to begin at the beginning, for I ken naething.”
"‘Faith cometh by hearing,’" said Mirran, solemnly, “'and hearing by the Word of God.' Faith is the fruit of the Spirit; but the Holy Spirit produces or increases it only in connection wi' His own Word. Be much ta'en up wi’ the Word of God, Robin. Dinna think your own thoughts about spiritual, things, but let God tell you His thoughts; hearken carefully to Him, and believe a' that He tells you. This is a main point. Whatever God says, be ye sure to receive. His word, and to mix it wi’ faith. But, Robin, see to keep by God's Bible, and take care never to open or to read a verse o' Satan's. Ye have been reading ouer much o' the Deevil's Bible this while back, and much sin and sorrow has come out o’t.”
"Deevil’s Bible that's an extraordinary name, Mirran, What mean ye by that?”
“I mean simply that ye have been thinking your ain thochts on subjects about which your ain thochts arena able to give you licht. Na more than that, ye have preferred to lean on these thochts which were suggested to you by the enemy, to leaning on the true and gracious words of the God of all grace. Who told you, Robin; that you were such a sinner? God's Bible, maybe. Well, but who told you, on the back of that, that such a sinner as you would not at once meet God's pardoning mercy in Christ Jesus? Ye gotna that information in His Bible. There isna a verse wi' such a word in’t between Genesis and Revelation. Ye got that where there's a hantle mair o' a similar kind to be got, out o' your ain foolish and self-righteous heart, the thoughts of which, on spiritual subjects, are just Satan's Bible. You must give it up forever, Robin, and in spiritual things ye must believe naething but what ye have chapter and verse for. Now, here it is written down for you; so dinna forget it—God’s receipt is Christ, "who was delivered for our offenses, and was raised again for our justification” (Rom. 4:25).
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