The Gospel Echo: Volume 21 (1905)

LAST week but one, I buried a young woman in our churchyard, whose remarkable call by grace is worth recording, for the benefit of those who take an interest in the things of eternity, and for the honor and glory of Him who alone can call out of darkness into marvelous light.

She very seldom came to church, though her parents have been members of my congregation for years, and walk in the fear of God. Both they and I had seen for a long while that consumption had placed its withering hand upon her, and we were convinced that she could not be a long, liver. In my occasional visits to the house, I would sometimes remark, ‘Margaret, you are looking very poorly, my dear child. To be faithful with you, I don’t think you are long for this world. It is a solemn thing to die, and not know where we are going to.’

To this she would reply, in the most hardened, unconcerned, scoffing tone, that she was not going to die just yet. She would say the same to the doctor. that attended her, and to her parents, who watched with pain the ravages which the insidious disease was making upon her.

She was very good-looking, and was very fond of dress. Indeed, her whole thought seemed to be concentrated upon her person. To give an idea of the absorbing vanity that possessed her, I may mention that a few months before she was laid aside by complete prostration, when she could hardly drag her legs along, she would go into town by the bus, to buy a new bonnet. ‘Bless me,’ I said to her poor grieving mother, when I heard of this infatuation, ‘Bless me! I should not be surprised if the wretched girl did not get back alive!’ ‘Nor me neither,’ observed her mother.

However, she did get back, and wore the bonnet.

Possessed of a high and resolute spirit, she would not give in, but kept crawling about the neighborhood, first to visit one of her relations, and then to have a chat with some of her friends.

Whenever I had an opportunity, I used to repeat my own view as to the result of her illness, but she took no heed. In fact, she was the most daring infidel for her years that I ever met with.

One day, however, a remarkable change came over her, and she said to her mother, ‘Mother, I wish to be good, but I cannot; and if I die now, I know I shall go to hell.’

The mother answered, ‘It is a good sign when we wish to be good, and feel and acknowledge our incapacity to effect any change in ourselves, for then we are driven to Christ, who alone can make us good.’

But not wishing to force religion even upon a dying child, the mother said no more, but silently watched her daughter’s movements, and listened to her musings (for she would now and then give expression to her thoughts in subdued prayer, and keep peering into the Bible and hymn-book).

After some days the young woman said, ‘I wonder would Mr. Parks come end read and pray for me?’ ‘I am sure he would, if he knew that you wanted him,’ replied her mother. ‘I do want him so much,’ she continued. ‘I want him to instruct me, for I am very ignorant; I want him to tell me about Jesus Christ.’

I was not in the neighborhood just then; so she begged that the superintendent of our Sunday school, who lives close by, should be sent for. He went, and read to her, and prayed. He came away astonished with her conversation, at her subdued manner, and the way in which she spoke of her bodily sufferings, as signifying nothing, in comparison with the sufferings of a soul.

My unbelieving reader will be ready to explain all this by the terrors of death, or by the power of affliction in bringing down the loftiest spirit. But stop! Many hundreds have been similarly afflicted, who have never winced, and have gone down to the grave without the cry, ‘What must we do to be saved?’ What is to account for the difference? There are but two answers, viz. (1) Either God the Holy Spirit has wrought the marvelous change; or (2) natural timidity, or weakness of character, has succumbed to the fear of death.

This latter, the subject of this notice had not. Naturally she was bold, fearless, and honest in her unbelief; so that if I had no other testimony of a work of grace in this young woman, I should be inclined to the belief that something more than nature had been influencing her.

When I first heard that a great change had taken place in this young person, I questioned its reality. I doubted; I disbelieved. I went, however, to see her. The interview I had with her amazed me. She spoke of having had the sweet sense of her Redeemer’s pardoning love. She said, ‘I keep having it, and then losing it; but I continued praying for it, and then I get it again. But do pray for me, for I am a poor sinful and ignorant creature.’

As I walked home that night, I began to suspect that she had been tampered with by some who have an awfully deluding power amongst them, of persuading dying people that they are saved; so I made strict inquiries upon the subject, and put the question pointblank to her mother, ‘Has anybody been reading, or speaking to her from —?’ ‘No; no one but yourself and the superintendent has ever spoken to her upon serious matters.’

That satisfied me; so I was the more deeply convinced that this was a work of grace.

Next time I saw her I observed ‘Margaret, you have been a very great and hardened sinner, and you now feel yourself to be perfectly helpless. If God were to require you to start and work and save yourself, what could you do?’

‘Eh! nothing. I can do nothing. It is Christ that must do all for me, or I can never be saved.’

‘Yes,’ I said; ‘Christ’s finished work, Christ’s work in your and my stead, is our only hope; and I pray God that He will bring home these great truths with power to your soul by His Holy Spirit.’

‘He has,’ she replied; ‘I believe He will save me.’

She lay for more than three weeks after this upon a bed of great bodily suffering. Indeed, for the greater part of this time she slept but little. Her poor legs had swollen to such a degree that she could not bear them beneath the clothes, whilst she sought rest for her emaciated body in continually twisting it and writhing. She sometimes groaned out her agony, and would ask us to pray that God would be pleased to release her from her pain; but upon being reminded that God in His wisdom knew best when to take her, she would reply, ‘I know that it is sin to be impatient; may the Lord give me patience not to murmur His will be done.’

In the Lord’s fixed time He took her out of this world; and if I must not be impervious to all convictions, if I must not reject all testimony but that to be afforded at the day of judgment, I cannot but believe that poor Margaret Pendlebury was a monument of grace.

Oh, how marvelous are the ways of the Lord!

What a wonder that a thoughtless, giddy, vain, pleasure-seeking, infidel woman should be converted without the usual means of grace, and that many pious moralists should be this moment as hardened as the nether millstone, though they have been listening to the word of God all the days of their lives Openshaw, January 28th, 1866.

W. P.

"And He Shall Reign."

PSALM 2

WHY do nations rage with fury,

And imagine foolish things?

‘Tis because the Lord’s Anointed

Comes to reign as King of kings.

Vain is all their fierce rebellion,

Vain their angry boasting thus:

“Let us break their bands asunder,

Cast away their yokes from us.”

God shall have them in derision,

He shall laugh at their defeat,

Vexed with His supreme displeasure,

They shall utter ruin meet.

~ ~ ~

On the holy hill of Zion

God the Lord has set His King;

See, the heathen flow unto Him,

Pay their vows, their offerings bring!

His inheritance is gathered,

Kings before Him bow the knee;

His dominion knows no limits,

Jesus reigns from sea to sea!

All His enemies shall perish,

Broken with an iron rod,

Like a potter’s vessel, shivered,

By the anger of their God.

~ ~ ~

Sinners, now be wise and hearken!

Be instructed by the Lord!

Serve Him now with fear and trembling,

Lest ye die beneath His sword!

Kiss the Son, lest He be angry,

And ye perish from the way,

While His wrath is kindled little,

While ‘tis yet salvation’s day.

He shall soon appear in glory,

All His foes shall lick the dust,

Hasten then, for He assures you.

“Blest are they who in Him trust.”

C. WILEMAN.

July, 1905.

"Arise, Let Us Go Hence."

A few Remembrances of ANNIE MARY SPRIDGEON, of Lincoln, who died May 4th, 1904, aged 25 years: and of BENJAMIN SPRIDGEON, who died May 26th, 1904, aged 20 years.

BY THEIR MOTHER

It is the desire of many friends that the following account should not be lost sight of. Both Annie and Benjamin Spridgeon were known to us, the former especially, as when in health she met with us at chapel, the parents being members with us. During her illness, we saw her every week, excepting when she was away on visits; we felt it a pleasure to hear her relate the Lord’s goodness to her, and she always felt anxious to hear the Word of God read. Her case was much laid on our minds, and on the minds of she friends generally. We hope the blessed testimony may be encouraging to many.

LINCOLN.

W. B.

Annie Mary Spridgeon.

MY DEAR ANNIE was always a tender and affectionate child, and had, all through her life, one of the sweetest dispositions. She was always spoken very highly of, for attention in the Sunday school, and she attended the means of grace. But we could not see that there was the change of heart, which we so longed and prayed for. Just before she was twenty-one, the Lord was pleased to lay His afflicting hand upon her. She then began to speak of spiritual things, which was a great comfort to us. One day she said, “I do sometimes feel very poorly in business, but these words seem to follow me about: ‘Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.’”

She left business, and went to stay with some dear friends in the country, near Deeping, where she heard Mr. F. Tryon preach. At one time she said, “Dear Mr. Tryon preached such a sweet, simple gospel sermon, that even I could understand it.”

She continued to get worse, and a dear friend got her into a Home at Ventnor. She was so delighted at the thought of going, and said one day, “I opened my Bible on those words, mother, Thou shalt come to thy grave in a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in, in his season.” I said, “My darling, that may have two meanings.” Spiritually it was fulfilled in her case, for “the child” did indeed “die an hundred years old.”

One day, after she came from Ventnor, we thought her almost gone for some time; when she got a little better, she said, “That hymn was on my mind all through”:

“Jesus, engrave it on my heart,

That Thou the one thing needful art;

I could from all things parted be,

But never, never, Lord, from Thee.”

The last time she went to our little chapel, she heard Mr. Hill, of Leicester. She said, “Mother, I wondered how you sat in your seat; I thought it would be too much for you. You must have heard well.” I said, “Well, my dear, since you know it was so suitable for me, I hope you know something about it for yourself.” She then said, “Oh, it has been so sweet to me! I was in tears the whole of the time; to think, as dear Mr. Hill said, the Lord sees us in all those dark places we get into! to think that His eye is upon us! and oh, his prayer! he seemed to know all I wanted.”

Just about a month before she was taken home, she was suddenly taken very ill indeed. I said, “How is the poor mind?” She said, “Quite happy. The Lord says, Fear not, for I am with thee.” When able to talk again, she said, “I was reading the 43rd of Isaiah; the first five verses were so blessed to me, it was more than I could bear.”

About a week after this, the Lord so opened her mouth, that for three hours she continued to bless and praise God in the most beautiful language. She repeated the verse: “Father, I will that they also whom Thou Last given Me, be with Me where I am.” “He wills that I should be there, and I shall be there. I am His child; I shall be there.” She would have us sing, “All hail the power of Jesus’ Name,” herself joining in. When we broke down, she sang the last verse herself:

“We too, amidst that sacred throng,

Low at His feet would fall;

Join in the everlasting song,

And crown Him Lord of all!”

She said, “That is the verse I wanted singing.”

One day she said, “Think of His love to me a poor unworthy sinner like me.” Feeling much the intense weakness of body, she said, “I long to be gone. The spirit is too much for the poor weak body; it wants to fly away. Will it be long, mother?” I said, “No, my darling, it won’t be long.” She said, “It seems so long; pray that I may have patience to wait His time.” A friend sent to inquire how she was. She sent her a message, saying, “I hope to go home tonight.” The next night she said, “I am just as happy, but more contented to wait His time; am afraid I was rather impatient last night.”

Another time, she said, “I have been having a little talk with Jesus.” I said, “What about, my dear?” She said, “Oh, about my going home. He says He will never leave me, He holds my hand. He says, ‘Come now, and let us reason together;’ and when He says, ‘Come,’ we have to come. He says, ‘Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.’ He says He has cast all my sins behind His back into the depths of the sea. He says He will be with me through the dark valley; and it would be dark if He were not there! I don’t want you to think I can see my Saviour with my bodily eyes. I cannot; but I know He is here. He holds my hand, and says He will be with me right through.” She went on to say, “Oh how I needed this affliction to bring me down! I was a hard wretch, but oh! the wonderful love of God to me. If I had strength, what a book I could write on the wonderful love of God. I used to think He was a hard God; how could I think so? But then, I could not see my Surety. He stands before the throne, and shows His bleeding hands. Precious Christ! It is He instead of me is seen. What mercies I am surrounded with and when my Saviour was dying they gave Him vinegar to drink. How I long to go! I long to be there!

“‘Then loudest of the crowd I’ll sing,

Whils’t heaven’s resounding mansions ring

With shouts of sovereign grace.’”

Annie lived a fortnight after this, and went through many changes, both in body and in mind. At one time she said, “What if I should be the one without the wedding garment!” This did not last long, for she soon broke out with: “I shall not be without the wedding garment; for

“Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness

My beauty are, my glorious dress;

‘Midst flaming worlds, in these arrayed,

With joy shall I lift up my head.”

At another time she said, “Oh, mother, how sweet those words are to me: ‘He knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust.’ I am so impatient.” Another time she said, “That verse: ‘Arise, shine, for thy light is come, the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee,’ is very sweet to me.”

Many times we thought her about departing; but coming round, she would say, “Not back again, Jesus; but do give me patience to wait Thy time.” Once she said, “He will soon say, ‘Arise, let us go hence;’ and what a hence! Mother, think of it!”

At a time when much tried, she said, “Satan is a cruel foe. He says I have never really loved the Lord’s people, only because they were kind to me. He began, mother, this afternoon, when Mr. and Mrs. B— came in; and since Mrs. T— came so late tonight, his darts are dreadful.” It was painful to see her distress for several hours; and she often repeated the words: “Cruel foe!” I said, “My darling, those dear friends were fulfilling the law of Christ.” “Oh!” she said, “Satan hates the law of Christ.”

After a time she broke out with: “It is all right; the Lord has so blessed me. He says He has loved me with an everlasting love, and with loving-kindness He has drawn me. I should never have gone after the Lord or His people, if He had not drawn me.”

“‘Twas Jesus and the chosen race

Subsists a bond of sovereign grace,

Which hell, with its infernal train,

Can ne’er dissolve, nor rend in twain.”

“Why Mrs. T— and I are ‘one in Christ Jesus.’”

After this, one day she said, “Satan has his times. He is angry that he has lost the victory, so he sends his darts thicker and faster, but it is different now from what it used to be. One stands between.”

On the Saturday before she died, we were expecting friends from a distance. She said, “If I am living, mother, when they get here, fill the room, and let them all sing, ‘Praise God from whom all blessings flow;’ and if I am gone, do the same.” Later on she said, “Oh, I long to go! I long to be where Jesus is; I long to see my Redeemer as He is. Oh! I long to spend the Sabbath in heaven. You won’t fret, mother, will you, when you think of me or look at my likeness. You must think that I am singing the high praises of God in heaven. I would not have anything different. I am on the Rock, on the Rock of Ages, ‘mother; what shall shake my sure repose?’ Give my love to all my friends,” naming several families. “Tell them how precious the Lord Jesus is to me, tell them ‘None but Jesus.’ Give my love to Mr. B—. Tell him a few minutes with Jesus here makes amends for all; and if on earth, what will it be in heaven?”

On the Sabbath morning, she said, “Let us be alone as much as possible today, mother; I want a day with Jesus. Others don’t hinder Jesus being with me, but it takes away some of the sweetness.” She said very little all the morning, being apparently unconscious; but in the afternoon, she raised her hands up, and dapped them three times, and said, “Precious Christ! oh, the Lord Jesus is so precious to my soul.” Then, in the most beautiful language, she blessed and praised God for all the way He had led her, and for all His mercies to her. I said, “I must call your father and brother; I cannot have all this to myself.” When they came in, her father said, “My darling, you are proving that—

“‘Jesus can make a dying bed

Feel soft as downy pillows are.’”

She said, “Don’t call it a dying bed, dada. Why, it is the beginning of life. I often thought how beautiful for dear Mr. Keeble to be able to say, ‘My inheritance is God;’ but now I can say my inheritance is God.”

I looked at her father, and said, “My dear, this is our Annie.” She said, “Yes, dada, this is your Annie, whom God has so blessed; yes, it is poor unworthy me.” She then quoted

“Not all the blood of beasts,

On Jewish altars slain,

Could give the guilty conscience peace,

Or wash away the stain.

“But Christ, the heav’nly Lamb,

Takes all our sins away;

A sacrifice of nobler name,

And richer blood than they.”

And also:

“No help in self I find,

And yet have sought it well;

The native treasure of my mind

Is sin, and death, and hell.

“To Christ for help I fly,

The friend of sinners lost;

A refuge sweet, and sure, and high,

And there is all my trust.”

She went on to say, “That is dear Mr. Jackson’s hymn.” It must have been about eight years since she had heard him. Later on: “Oh, Christ is so precious to me It is almost more than my poor weak body can bear. I am so full of the wonderful love of God. It may well be said that not one half to mortals has ever been told; they could not bear it. I have longed and prayed for this, and the Lord taught me to open my mouth; now He has filled it. I thought I would say nothing about it, but I am compelled to speak. If I held my peace, the stones would cry out against me. See those beautiful white roses. Man’s hand helped to bring them to perfection; but think of the buttercups and daisies. God attends to them; and see how beautiful they are. I see such a beauty in everything; all is new to me. Oh this precious fountain of life Jesus said, ‘Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him, shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water, springing up into everlasting life.’ How I have wondered what that meant; but I know now. Eternity! I have no fears for Eternity. It will not be long enough for me to praise my Saviour in.”

To her father she said, “There is much going on within, but I have not strength to tell it out.” She then lay apparently exhausted for some time. Then looking at her father, she said, “Satan will be in to the last, dada. He says, ‘You have exhausted your stock, where shall you get your next lot from?’ Why, from the fountain of life! He may well be angry; he has lost the victory, his darts are blunted now.”

My dear child lived three days after this, and enjoyed much communion with the Lord Jesus. She seemed to be actually talking with Him. When not able to speak, she would constantly wave her hand. On reviving again a little, she said, “When I wave my hand, I mean praise the Lord.”

At times she would sing part of that beautiful hymn:

“The sands of time are sinking;

The dawn of heaven breaks.”

At one time she said, “If you have any mourning cards for me, I should like these words on them: ‘By the grace of God I am what I am.’ If anything is said about me when I am gone, I should like it said it was all of free grace. I know, mother, you will like me to base everything nice to the last, but it will make no difference to me; I shall be wearing the spotless robed the righteousness of Christ.”

A short time before she passed away, she said, “I am suffering, mother; but in a sense it is enjoyable. I am so happy; Christ is so precious to my soul.” Her father said, “Can the poor hand still praise the Lord?” Me tried to raise her hand, but was not able; we raised it. and with a sweet smile she moved her fingers. In a few minutes her fetters were broken, so gently, we scarcely knew she was gone. The “Arise, and let us go hence” had come.

I would like to say to all who may read this little account, as my dear child said to me, “Think of the baize;” there is nothing in this world to be compared in one sweet thought of it.

Benjamin Spridgeon

THE illness of our dear boy Ben, began to show itself just before he was 18. Unlike his dear sister, he was very tiresome in the Sunday School, and gave his teachers and his father a good deal of trouble. He grew up a nice respectable youth, very attentive to his business, but would not attend a place of worship.

The first two years of his illness we could see no change in him; when leaving him for the night, I used to say a few words to him. He would say, “That will do, mother; shut the door.”

About three months before his death we could see a great change; he used to be very anxious to hear anything I said to him, and was also anxious for his father’s prayers, which he had before despised. He began to be in great distress about his state as a sinner before God. I could hear him praying often during the night, distress was so great, and his father being away from home, I called in a neighbor, a godly man, to talk and pray with him. This was a great comfort to him. His dear sister, knowing of his distress, used to send messages to him. One time she sent this verse:

“Let not conscience make you linger,

Nor of fitness fondly dream;

All the fitness He requireth

Is to feel your need of Him;

This He gives you:

‘Tis His Spirit’s rising beam.”

Another time she sent him:

“Jesus is a Friend in need;

Jesus is a Friend indeed.”

And: “None but Jesus,” which was her constant theme. In speaking of these messages to his father, he said “Bless my dear sister; she is a comfort to me.”

After this I used to hear him singing in the night, generally that sweet hymn:

“Rock of Ages, shelter me.”

One night he sang it through. If he heard the least sound, he would give over. I used to listen, but did not go in. A few weeks before he died he took hold of my hands, and said, “Mother dear, you won’t think too much of this, will you. It may not be for me. You know I have put these things from me, and got as far from them as ever I could get. I am so ignorant, I don’t even know if it is a verse of Scripture.” I said, “Well, my dear, what is it?” He said, “Oh those words came, and they have made such a change: ‘Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out.’ Is it Scripture, mother?” I said, “It is, my dear, and one of the most blessed in the Word of God.”

Once he said, “I felt so happy. All my sins seemed gone; I thought I was going to die, and was going to call you; but it passed away, and I feel so hard again. I am afraid I am deceived.” I said, “Who do you think has deceived you?” He said, “Why, mother, apparently in great distress of mind. One night his who does deceive poor souls? Draw the blinds down. I do not want to see this world again; there is nothing in it compared to a good hope of heaven.”

One time, seeing me in tears, he said, “Mother, dear, don’t fret. But I know what you want; you want what I did for a long time, that is a little comfort from the Lord. You should be glad that I have a little hope, and you know I have a little hope.”

On the Sunday, three days before he died, I read to him the words: “Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out.” He said, “Those are Jesus Christ’s own words, and He spake them to me. I am so happy, I should like to die this minute. I have been terrified at death. I thought I should die screaming; but I an so happy, I should like to die now.”

After this, he often repeated or sang hymns; sometimes “Rock of Ages,” and frequently, “How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds.” Once he said, “Is it tears or fears in that hymn, mother?” I said, “I don’t know.” He said, “It does not matter. If it drives away his fears, it drives away his tears.”

Just before he passed away, he looked at me with such a sweet smile, and said,

“God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform.”

From weakness he could not go on. I said,

“He plants His footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.”

“I have no doubt He has been riding upon the storm of your affliction, my darling, and now He is about to take you to Himself.” He said, “Bless God, He has taken me, mother.” I said, “What am I to say to your father when he comes home?”

“Say

“I’m a poor sinner, and nothing at all;

But Jesus Christ is my All in all.”

And in a few more minutes his happy spirit left, very gently, its tenement of clay, just three weeks after his dear sister. They were both interred by Mr. Tryon, of Stamford, by my dear daughter’s request.

Very much more might be said, but as I took no notes, and I cannot remember to put it exactly in my dear children’s own words, I leave it. What I have written is as nearly as possible as it was spoken by them.

Be Still

THE exhortations, “sit still” and “stand still” occupied our consideration in the two previous months respectively. We have now to speak on the injunction, “Be Still.” To sit still implies a waiting posture; to stand still one of halting on a march; to be still suggests an awe and quietness of mind. Hence we read in Psalm 4:4, “Stand in awe, and sin not: commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still.” Also in Psalm 46, the psalmist, speaking of God as a refuge and strength and present help in trouble, expresses his confidence in God, though the earth be removed, and the mountains carried into the sea, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Then, calling attention to the desolations God hath made in the earth in fighting against His enemies, the Psalm concludes: “Be Still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.”

When God’s judgments are in the earth, when He shakes His rod over a nation, over a people, or an individual; when He utters His voice, and that a terrible voice; when He permits circumstances to transpire which cause alarm, distress, or sore trouble; when God shows His people hard things and makes them to drink the wine of astonishment; for a soul to be still at such a time is almost supernatural. Yet what God enjoins is not to be looked upon as an impossibility, but by grace to be attained unto.

When the disciples on one occasion were on board ship with their blessed Lord, “there came down a storm of wind on the lake, and they were filled with water, and were in jeopardy. And they came to Him, and awoke Him, saying, Master, Master, we perish. Then He arose, and rebuked the wind and the raging of the water: and they ceased, and there was a calm.” Here was a time of danger and trouble. Let us particularly note the measure of faith the disciples had in their Lord. They believed He had power to do many things, but their faith was not strong enough to fully believe He had power to rebuke the wind; hence said the Lord, “Where is your faith”? They had affirmed just before, “we perish”; their faith evidently was not in exercise in God who holds the winds in His fists, and the waters in the hollow of His hand.

We may consider that to sit still, to stand still, and to be still, implies three degrees of faith. To sit still is a faith of early seeking after God; to stand still is a faith of expectation for the Lord to appear in the hour of danger to be still is a faith of entering securely by faith into Jesus Christ. The words of Joseph Hart seem somewhat to the point. After describing two degrees of faith, he says:

“But he that into Christ believes,

What a rich faith has he!

In Christ he moves, and acts, and lives,

From self and bondage free He has the Father, and the Son,

And Christ and he are now but one.”

We apprehend that by such a faith only can the soul “be still.” He can then commune with his own heart and be still. Faith in Christ’s felt presence stills him, silences his fears, quiets his mind, produces peace in his soul, and gives him an humble assurance that although trouble may be without, dark clouds in the future, and no stability in any of his outward things, yet by faith in God he can be still in his soul and believe that God is God.

Some persons might imagine that such a faith, is not an active faith, but rather a passive one; but it is both active and passive. It is active, inasmuch as communion is more or less maintained with the Lord. To move and act and live are lively motions, and imply that the graces of the Spirit, such as joy, peace, and love, are in exercise. These graces lead in the way of tender gracious walk with God; and the continued shortcomings, the plague of indwelling sin, the weakness of the flesh, which hinder and oppose this gracious walk, become the grief and the burden, which gives daily, more or less, an errand to the throne of grace. Then those things which, like water, appear to put out the fire, work as oil to cause the flame of earnest cry unto the Lord. With such oppositions the soul may be sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing; sorrowful over his own weakness and inability, yet rejoicing he has an arm of strength in the Lord, and that he stands in the Lord and not in himself. He rests in the Lord, and not in himself.

“Till we attain to this rich faith,

Tho’ safe, we are not sound;

Though we are saved from sin and death,

Perfection is not found.

Lord make the union closer yet,

And let the marriage be complete.”

Reader, is this your prayer? We trust it is the prayer of our heart; may the Lord grant it to each of us. There may be some who will read this article and the two foregoing on the subject of stillness who have no sympathy with such a religion, which they may compare to an old stagecoach of the past generation, and think they have found a way to heaven comparable to the motor-cars of the present time, in trusting to the work of their hands. Should it be the case that such an individual is glancing at this page, and we are right in assuming that you do not receive the Word of God as a little child and have no desire to do so, but are proud of your present attainments and supposed knowledge, your position is not to sit still, for your stillness may if grace prevent not prove your undoing. We say not so as your judge, but rather to warn you. “Behold, all you that kindle a fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks: walk in the light of your fire, and in the sparks that ye have kindled. This shall ye have of mine hand: ye shall lie down in sorrow.” (Isaiah 50:11). It would be your wisdom to understand your way, which should be one of fleeing. There is a city of refuge, there is a way of escape, there is a way for you to strive to enter into.

Each course is set forth in the Word of God, and should your eyes be opened to see your danger, you are invited to run. However religious you may be, while your religion is your trust, it can be no place for rest, because your sins are still lying at your door. Ruth, who was told to sit still, had left her own people and her gods, and had fled from Moab, a place of idolatry, and had come to put her trust under the wings of the Lord God of Israel. Naomi sought rest for her daughter-in-law, and she obtained it by being united to Boaz. And unless we are united to Jesus Christ, Boaz’ great antitype, we cannot find the stillness in any sense of gospel peace.

To sit still, stand still, and be still, are active operations of a God-given faith, who works by His good Spirit in the soul. It is sometimes in the still small voice. It is always effectual, whether in great power or in small degree, and it is a work we can cherish. It is also a work that can be resisted, hence it is said: “Quench not the Spirit.” If we quench a thing, we practically resist. We do not say man is stronger than God, neither do we say we can stop His work; but it is possible by sinful actions to grieve the Spirit, and He withdraws His operations till we acknowledge our offenses.

May God grant us much of the stillness we have briefly hinted at, that we may show forth His praise, and glorify Him in our daily walk to the Kingdom.

New Cross, June 17th, 1905.

S. B.

The Bitter Cup

SOME years ago, when feeling rather unwell, I was recommended to get and use what was then largely advertised, namely, “a bitter cup, a tonic of Brea efficacy.” Whatever was drunk from this medicated cup was made bitter, and the bitterness was supposed to operate to the good of the body.

Perhaps my friend did not know that I already had a “bitter cup” in the house, or that it was “a tonic of great efficacy.” Well; that is some years ago. But I know more about bitter cups now than I did then. I find very few Christians who are without one. It may not be always on the table, or in the hand; but it is in the cupboard, or somewhere else in the house. The cups advertised used to cost two shillings, and were to be used twice a day: but I have no need now to be a customer, nor is my medicine limited to two doses in a day.

My friend A. is a good man, and one who wishes to. live soberly, righteously, and godly in the present world. He has a godly wife, and a comfortable home. He has good health and earns good wages. His motto is, “If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.” But he is one of a number of men employed in the same business, and some of his fellow-workmen are infidels, some profane swearers, some mockers and persecutors of the godly; so that, like Lot, his righteous soul is daily vexed with the filthy conversation of the wicked. This is his “bitter cup.” If you saw him at home you would say, “What a happy man he must be!” If you saw him only in the house of prayer, you would say, “Who can have greater cause to be grateful?” And this he feels. But his Sunday is often disturbed with thoughts of the coming week, and his devotions are spoiled by what he has heard at shop harassing him in the sanctuary. But home is endeared, the value of the Lord’s-day is enhanced, and the sweet peace of the sanctuary is rendered doubly precious by what he suffers when at his employment, and so his “bitter cup” proves a tonic for his soul.

I sometimes visit a family where the parents are believers, and in themselves very happy. Their house is their own, and their business is good. You look around their home, and think there can be very little to cause them sorrow. But they have a son who causes them grief. They cannot control him, and he is a source of both sorrow and shame to them. This is indeed a “bitter cup” for them; but I believe it has often made them pour out their hearts to the Lord.

My friends G. appeared to have their lot cast in a pleasant place, and to possess a goodly heritage. Happy in each other, but happier still in God, all seemed to go well with them. I could see no “bitter cup” in their dwelling. But they had a lovely intelligent child, of which, perhaps, they thought too much, and, perhaps, loved too ardently. They watched over it with the greatest care, and sought by all means to train it up for God and glory. It was a sunbeam in the house, a sunbeam in the eye, and a sunbeam in the heart. But it, took a slight cold, it gradually grew thin and pale, it became weak and feeble. Fear was excited, every means was tried to restore health, but it drooped and died. This was a “bitter cup.” What tears were shed! What prayers were offered! What distress was felt! But all was in vain. The little one’s name was written in heaven. The darling’s doom was sealed, an early grave was to receive the body, and a holy heaven was to furnish a home for the soul. Yet this proved a blessing too, for Jesus occupied the dear one’s place, and became the object of their individual affections.

I might enumerate some others, including my own. But there is a bitterer cup than any I have named, and that is the cup of wrath. Jesus drank this for all His own loved ones; and therefore it will never be put into a believer’s hand. None of us can conceive how bitter that cup was, which He drank quite up that sinners might live. We may indeed taste a little of it, though not penally, when we smart for our sins. But O, my fellow-sinner, if grace prevent not, if you are not brought to repentance for your own sin and to faith in Christ, you will have to drink this bitter cup forever! Many an infidel on a dying bed has begun to drink of this cup of wrath. O my friend, stop and think before you go a step further! Do you want to drink the cup of wrath forever? But, blessed be God, there is a cup of mercy and life. If you are thirsty, come and drink. You are abundantly welcome. You may buy wine and milk without money and without price. The water of life, the love of God in Christ, proceeds from the throne of God and of the Lamb; and “whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.”

Blossom and Fruit

“Young Christians oft please their vain rapids

With wonders they hope to perform;

But soon they come limping behind,

Their courage all foiled in a storm.”

MY dear friend, I feel a desire to preach to you a short sermon; and you will see that I have chosen a long text. You will, I believe, be able to find the text, even if I do not quote the chapter and verse. It is a text which was often quoted to me when I was thirty years younger than I now am; and as it is occasionally even now repeated in my hearing to those who are just beginning life, it seems good to me to make a few remarks on it.

You will not fail to observe that the text omits a very important fact; it fails to mention what older Christians please themselves with. But I will not deal too severely with this omission, as my mind dwells more upon what the text does say than upon what it does not say.

The fact is, my dear friend, that no person can be old before he is young. We were all once little helpless babes, and had to remain so for a considerable time. As Christians, we were “born again,” and had to pass through the stages of spiritual infancy and youth before arriving at the maturity of gracious manhood. Will you permit me to make this clear by an illustration? The farmer sows his wheat; and in due time there will be the tender green blades. Will he take his plow and plow up these blades because they have not golden ears upon them? The gardener cultivates his borders with wisdom and skill; but does he clip his roses and carnations about in May because they are not covered with blooms? The shepherd expects the lambs in January; but does he beat them because they are not aged sheep?

No, my dear friend. My mother used to say to me “There may be a good deal of blossom that never comes to fruit; but there can be no fruit without blossom.” She therefore never took her broom into her garden for the purpose of beating all the blossoms off the trees. And for my part, I fail to see the wisdom of imitating such a course towards our dear young friends. It appears to me that brooms could be more usefully employed, even by some older people, in sweeping the kitchen. Let even broom handles be put to their own proper use.

I think that youth is the time for blossom and beauty. How I love to see those dear young men and women, and the children too, in God’s house, listening to His Gospel, and to hear their sweet voices in our grand songs of praise! If children sing around the throne of God in heaven, I for one will not forbid them to sing here below. It is their proper singing-time, the spring of their spiritual youth. How can we have birds without eggs, leaves without buds, or a harvest without growth? You may depend upon it that God’s order is best. The figs are green before they are brown; and the grapes are sour before they are sweet. I must confess that some grapes seem never to get sweet. A little breezy sunshine would do them an immense deal of good, and help them to ripen.

The time of youth is the time of zeal. Suppose a young Christian shows more zeal than knowledge, in my own judgment he had better err on this side than on the other. The young man who never makes a mistake never makes anything else. And even if he errs through his newborn zeal, would it not be better to try to guide it into its true channel than to seek to quench it? Which would be more like the Spirit of Christ, think you?

I think it would be a very useful exercise for an older Christian to at times go back in memory to his spiritual youth, and thus become a little child again. It is better to praise all the good we can than to condemn all the bad we can. It is better to encourage a young writer, if these are signs of what is good in his early attempts, than to use the magnifying glass on his defects.

I read this morning that our blessed Master increased in wisdom and in stature, and in favor with God and with man. I have had eight children, and in a drawer I still keep their school copybooks. There are the first attempts of each of them to make pothooks; and then the successive stages leading up to beautiful penmanship. They often smile at those imperfect efforts of infancy, and I smile with them; and I cannot as a father think that my heavenly Father is angry with me about the poor pothooks of my gracious infancy. They meant His praise then, though they were imperfectly shaped; and they mean His praise now, even in this letter to you.

You will then see, my dear friend, that I should like to observe a little more kindness shown in some quarters towards the young people. Let them be young while they are young; and let God alone to do His own work in ripening them. Let us not forget that we were once young, and that it has taken years of discipline and toil to teach us even the little we now know. It may be true that there is much zeal without knowledge; but I am sadly afraid that there is also much knowledge without zeal. Believe me, my dear friend, faithfully yours, April 7th, 1905.

JONATHAN JONES.

The Bow in the Cloud

IN a note book containing the substance of several sermons written from memory by my brother, Thomas Boorne, who died in February, 185o, he has recorded, that on Saturday, August 1st, 1846, London and its vicinity was visited with a most terrific thunder storm, accompanied with hail, in size, larger than beech nuts, destroying many panes of glass. It was reckoned that it would cost from £1800 to £2000 to restore the damage done to Buckingham Palace alone, and the new houses of Parliament also suffered severely from the hail. I have some recollection of a very heavy hail storm, which probably was the one recorded by my brother, for I distinctly remember my dear mother throwing a large cloak over her head, and rushing outside our house to close the shutters, which were fixed in the old style, on either side of the windows; and I remember too, in my fright, taking refuge in a large cupboard under the staircase. But eventually the storm ceased, when a rainbow appeared, which filled my heart with delight. I suppose it was the fact of the rainbow being mentioned in the Bible, which was the cause of my joy. My parents being godly people, it was their custom to read the Bible with us, their children, on a Sunday afternoon, as a family Bible class, and they would be likely to select such portions as would be of some interest to a child’s mind. I name this incident as an introduction to a few remarks on the rainbow. Whether the happiness I felt at its appearance after the terrible storm arose from any knowledge of God’s promise with the bow, I am unable to say. Probably it was so; being old enough in some measure to understand. And I have ever felt a pleasure in beholding the many appearances of it since that day; for it conveys a sacred and sweet sign, and remains a token of God’s faithfulness.

The rainbow occupies four places in the Word of God. The first mention of it relates to the covenant God made with Noah after the old world had been deluged by the flood. God declared He would no more destroy all flesh by the waters of a flood, as he had done; giving the bow as a token of the covenant between Him and Noah and every living creature that was with him for perpetual generations; saying, “I do set My bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between Me and the earth. And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud. And I will remember My covenant which is between Me and you and every living creature of all flesh: and the waters shall no more become a flood to destroy all flesh. And the bow shall be in the cloud, and I will look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is upon the earth.”

The poet Hart puts it thus in verse,

“When, deaf to every warning given,

Man braved the patient power of heaven,

Great in His anger, God arose,

Deluged the world, and drowned His foes!

Vengeance, that called for this just doom,

Retired to make sweet mercy room;

God of His wrath repenting, swore

A flood should drown the earth no more.

That future ages this might know,

He placed in heaven His radiant bow;

The sign till time itself shall fail,

That waters shall no more prevail.”

The prophet Ezekiel, describes the vision which he saw of the four cherubims and the four wheels, with the living creatures within them, whose noise of their wings were like great waters, as the voice of the Almighty, and above them over their heads was the likeness of a throne with the likeness as the appearance of a man upon it, which had color of amber as the appearance of fire, and brightness round about it as the appearance of the bow that is in the cloud in the day of rain. This, says the prophet, with other majestic signs, “was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord.”

The evangelist John speaks in the book of Revelation of a throne he saw set in heaven, and of One who sat on the throne, “whose appearance to look upon was like jasper and a sardine stone: and there was a rainbow round about the throne in sight like unto an emerald.”

The three references to the rainbow are connected with the mercy of God in the throne of His grace. In the first it appears as a token of God’s covenant; in the second it irradiates the throne of His glory as seen by the prophet on earth; in the third instance it surrounded the throne of God’s glory in heaven, as seen by the evangelist John, wherein “stood a Lamb as it had been slain.”

There is a fourth reference to the rainbow in the book of Revelation, where the evangelist saw “a mighty angel come down from heaven clothed with a cloud: and a rainbow was upon his head”; he had in his hand a little book open. He cried with a loud voice, when seven thunders uttered their voices. John was about to write, but he was commanded to seal up those things which the seven thunders had uttered; but the little book was handed to him, with the command to eat it, and it was sweet in his mouth as honey, but to his belly it was bitter.

It is not possible in this brief article to touch more than the shadow of the glorious signification of the rainbow blended in the foregoing instances. Like the bow, its arch is too high and its extent too wide; but this we may say that its connection with the covenant, with the throne of grace, and Him who sits thereon, yea, who is. the throne itself, gives a majesty and glory to it, so that grace, mercy, and peace, are blessedly set forth by its. radiant beams; as says good Mr. Hart:

“This bow that beams with vivid light,

Presents a sign to Christian sight,

That God has sworn (who dares condemn?)

He will be no more wroth with them.

“Thus the believer, when he views

The rainbow in its various hues,

May say, ‘those lovely colors shine

To show that heaven is surely mine.

“‘See in you cloud what tinctures glow,

And gild the smiling vales below!

So smiles my cheerful soul to see

My God is reconciled to me.’”

John Bunyan, in his “Saints’ privilege and profit, or the throne of Grace,” sums up his excellent essay on the beauty set forth by the rainbow, as follows; “The bow is of that nature as to make whatever you shall look upon through it, to be of the same color as itself, whether the thing be bush, or man, or beast; and the righteousness of Christ is that that makes sinners, when, God looks upon them through it, to look beautiful and acceptable in His sight, for we are made comely through His comeliness, and made accepted in the Beloved.”

May it be your high privilege, dear reader, may it be mine, to apprehend by a living faith, the Echo of the gospel portrayed in the bow, which the Lord has, declared to be, “my bow in the cloud.”

New Cross. S. B.

Since writing the above, our attention has been called to the faith (unbelief) of the bishop of Rochester. We append his utterances, as reported in some of the daily papers of 28th January; and it goes without saying that he practically denies the truth of the Bible.

These are his words:

“The Flood and the Incarnation”! The one the center or substance of Christian faith, with all the lines of evidence converging into it; the other, a far-off tradition or story from the prehistoric period, about which various views are obviously tenable: and the literalist one is open to the gravest difficulties, and is quite unneeded as a support to Christian faith.

We would ask how can he possibly believe in the substance of the Christian faith when he denies, or treats as fables, the words which fell from the lips of Jesus Christ, where Christ utters these solemn words; “But as the days of Noah were, so shall also the coming of the Son of man be. For as in the days that were before the flood, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day that Noah entered into the ark, and knew not until the flood came, and took them all away: so shall also the coming of the Son of man be.”

In the face of Christ’s own word, to treat the flood as a fable is to make the Son of God a teacher of lies, and saying in effect that he, the bishop of Rochester, knows better than the Christ of God as to the truth of the Bible.

Burning the Plow

When the prophet Elijah was sent by God to call Elisha to be a prophet, and to be his successor, he found Elisha at work in the field with the plow. There were twelve plows at work, with twelve yoke of oxen, and Elisha with the twelfth. But although the call of God came to him so suddenly, he did not hesitate, but at once obeyed. And the striking fact connected with the call is, that he not only obeyed it at once, but he slew the oxen with which he had been plowing, and burned his plow to cook their flesh, and invited his men to partake of the feast. He thus signified, in an emphatic manner, his determination never to plow again.

Dear reader, have you burned your plow? I mean, have you heard and obeyed the call of God? Have you left the pleasures and pursuits of this passing world, and so left them as to have no desire to return?

If you are a professor of religion, have you burned your plow? I mean, have you come clean out of the world, making it manifest that you are no longer under the dominion of sin and Satan, but that you are Christ’s? We want more decision in these days. We can hardly tell whether men are plowing with Satan’s plow or with Christ’s gospel plow. We need to be very separate and very distinct and very decided. No man can serve God and mammon; may we not be guilty of trying to do so. The question therefore is a pertinent one, reader, and worthy of consideration by you, namely, Have you burned your plow?

The Child and the Traveler.

A CHILD sat at a cottage-door, one lovely summer’s day,

The sun was shining brightly, but she heeded not its ray;

Her eyes were fixed upon a book, that rested on her knee,

And in its sacred page she seemed a brighter light to see!

The birds were making melody, among the shadowy trees,

The perfumed breath of summer flowers came floating on the breeze;

She heeded not the scented gale, heard not the songbird’s lay,

That little one was occupied with sweeter things than they.

For she was searching earnestly, in truth’s most precious mine;

Oh! happy little cottage girl, the pearl of price was thine

A traveler journeyed on that day, beneath the sultry beam,

Weary and thirsty, he had sought, in vain, for some cool stream.

He paused before that cottage door, and gazed on that sweet child,

Marveling much what fairy tale, her heart and soul beguiled.

His voice aroused her, as he asked for a refreshing draft;

And when the cooling beverage that weary one had quaffed,

“My step,” he said, “you did not hear; my form you did not see;

Tell me, my love, what charmed you so, what volume may that be?”

“The best of books,” the child replied; “the book that God hath given,

To tell us of a better home, and guide us safe to heaven.”

“What!” he rejoined, in strange surprise, “why have you left your play,

To sit and read your Bible here, this lovely summer’s day?”

“Because I love it,” said the child, “most dearly love it, too

Sure, all who read that holy book, must love it as I do!”

The stranger traveled on and left that cottage far behind,

Yet still these few and simple words, kept echoing in his mind:

“She loves her Bible, artless child; she spoke the truth, I know,

For not a shade of falsehood dwelt on that fair open brow.”

“I love it not; oft have I laughed its humbling truths to scorn,

And said, I ne’er would own as LORD, the babe at Bethlehem born,

She loves her Bible; would I could!” A tide of feeling swept

Across that proud and wayward heart; the burden’d sinner wept!

The Lord, the Spirit of all power, unto his soul had spoken;

The heart that feared not God or man, by a child’s touch was broken.

A humble contrite wanderer, he sought the Saviour’s fold,

And learned to love his Bible, too, and prize it more than gold.

The Cripple and His Bible

AT a meeting of the Bible Society, Dr. Gregory, of Woolwich, related the following very interesting facts:

“More than twelve months ago, I went, pursuant to the request of a poor but benevolent-hearted woman in my neighborhood, to visit an indigent man, deeply afflicted. On entering the cottage, I found him alone, his wife having gone to procure him milk from a kind neighbor. I was startled by the sight of a pale, emaciated man, a living image of death, fastened upright in his chair by a rude mechanism of cords and belts hanging from the ceiling. He was totally unable to move either hand or foot, having for more than four years been entirely deprived of the use of his limbs, yet the whole time suffering extreme anguish from swellings at all his joints. As soon as I had recovered a little from my astonishment at seeing so pitiable an object, I asked, ‘Are you left alone, my friend, in this deplorable situation?’

“‘No, sir,’ replied he, in a touchingly feeble tone of mild resignation (nothing but his lips and eyes moving while he spake), ‘I am not alone, for God is with me.’

“On advancing, I soon discovered the secret of his striking declaration; for his wife had left on his knees, propped with a cushion formed for the purpose, a Bible, lying open at a favorite portion of the Psalms of David! I sat down by him, and conversed with him. On ascertaining that he had but a small weekly allowance certain, I inquired how the remainder of his wants were supplied.

“‘Why, sir,’ said he, ‘‘tis true, as you say, seven shillings a week would never support us; but when it is gone, I rely upon the promise I found in this book: “Bread shall be given him: his water shall be sure;” and I have never been disappointed yet; and so long as God is faithful to His word, I never shall.’

“I asked him if he ever felt tempted to repine under the pressure of so long-continued and heavy a calamity.

“‘Not for the last three years,’ said he, ‘blessed be God for it!’ the eyes of faith sparkling and giving life to his pallid countenance, while he made the declaration; ‘for I have learned from this book in whom to believe; and though I am aware of my weakness and unworthiness, I am persuaded that he will “not leave me nor forsake me.” And so it is, that often, when my lips are closed with locked jaw, and I cannot speak to the glory of God, He enables me to sing His praises in my heart.’

“Gladly would I sink into the obscurity of the same cottage gladly, even, would I languish in the same chair could I but enjoy the same uninterrupted communion with God, be always filled with the same ‘strong consolation,’ and constantly behold, with equally vivid perception, the same celestial crown sparkling before me.”

The Darkness of the Puritans

MY DEAR FRIEND, I am glad to hear again from you, and to know that you were well flogged at Antioch (Acts 11:26) last week. I can sympathize with you in each stripe; for I also “bear in my body the branding-marks of the Lord Jesus” (Galatians 6:17). You will on your part be pleased to know that our young friend TIMOTHY TITUS has had his first taste of persecution for the truth’s sake. They fastened him to the stake in the marketplace, intending to burn him; but although they tried six times to light the fagots, they were too damp to catch fire. I like plenty of fire in the pulpit, of the right kind; but I think that the other kind of fire is kindled by Satan. It certainly does not fall from heaven, or manifest a heavenly spirit, or any sweet savor of love.

You have very kindly given me your thoughts upon. the subject of my last letter, namely, the preaching of the gospel to every creature. You have also told me that you named the matter at Antioch, and defended yourself by the example (i) of the Lord Jesus Christ, (2) of the apostles, and (3) of those great and good men we commonly call Puritans, including some later preachers, such as Bunyan and Whitefield, who were so abundantly honored of God in their ministry. But the only answer you received to this was that these godly men were in darkness, imperfectly instructed, and very ignorant; and that we in these days have more light.

Well, my dear friend, judging from the company you were in, I am not at all surprised at this. In fact, I have been told the same thing. And what is more to the point, I have read it in the Bible. The Pharisees and other blind teachers said that they were the only persons who had sound sight, and that all others were blind. But how did the Lord answer them? “And Jesus said, For judgment I am come into this world,. that they which see not might see; and that they which, see might be made blind. And some of the Pharisees which were with Him heard these words, and said unto Him, Are we blind also? Jesus said unto them, If ye were blind, ye should have no sin; but now ye say, We see, therefore your sin remaineth. Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that entereth not by the door into the sheepfold, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber.” (John 9:39-41; 10:1).

Here we clearly see that the judgment of all men has to bow to the judgment of the Lord. These things are still hidden from the (self-) wise and prudent, and revealed to the humbled disciple.

But, in replying to your kind note, I desire to examine this charge of darkness as to the Puritans, and this boast of having superior light.

1. In the first place, as the Puritans were godly men, and in this matter followed the Lord Jesus Christ and the teaching of Scripture; is it not a reflection upon Himself and His Word to charge them with darkness in so doing? For this is really implied by such remarks, and lies at the root of the whole matter. The Lord commanded men to repent. He commanded them to “labor for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life.” (John 6:27.) He commanded them to “strive to enter in at the strait gate.” (Luke 13:24.) He also commanded the unbelieving Jews to believe (John 12:35-50): “While ye have light, believe in the light, that ye may be the children of light.” I do not read that in all these cases He communicated the power to obey, without which not one sinner ever could obey; but I do read that in every case, whether of obedience unto life, or of rejection unto death, His sovereignty was displayed.

You will also read, in the parable of the marriage supper (Luke 14) that all who were invited refused to come; and in the end that not one of those who were bidden was permitted to taste of the supper. All who come have to be “compelled” by sweet almighty grace to come: all who refuse to come are justly condemned for not coming.

You will also have read the solemn words of the Lord Himself to those who refuse His call, in Proverbs 1:20-33. Also, to refer again to John 12:48: “He that rejecteth Me, and receiveth not My words, hath one that judgeth Him: the word that I have spoken, the same shall judge him in the last day.”

I might quote numerous passages to the same purpose, but let these suffice. And I feel sure, my dear brother, you will agree with me when I say that to nullify this solemn teaching is supremely impertinent and profane.

2. But the apostles also are brought under the charge of “darkness and ignorance.” In obedience to their Lord’s command, they went forth, and preached that men should repent. What else could they preach when they went first among people who had never heard the gospel before? I need not quote the words of Peter, of John, of Paul: the Acts of the apostles is full of them. These servants of Christ knew perfectly that sinners dead in sin could not of themselves either repent or believe; yet they commanded them to do so. They preached with great power; and God gave testimony to the word of His grace. Satan tried hard, as he does now, to put a stop to such preaching; but the more they were flogged, and stoned, and imprisoned, and killed, the more they preached the gospel of the grace of God. Yet we are now asked to believe that all this gospel preaching was “ignorance and darkness” in the blaze of the superior light of these days of ours! Well; this is just what the other rulers said. They were “grieved that they taught the people, and they laid hands on them, and put them in hold.” (Acts 4:2, 3.) “Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were UNLEARNED AND IGNORANT MEN, they marveled; and they took knowledge of them, that they had been with Jesus.” (Acts 4:13.) So it proved then, as it must prove now, that “the foolishness of God is wiser than men.” May it be your happy lot, my dear friend, and mine, to be on God’s side. We shall have His sweet approval in the end.

3. But those eminent men known as “the Puritans” are also held up to shame and contempt on the same ground. They followed the example of Christ and the apostles. They exhorted men to repent and believe the gospel. They pointed out to sinners their awful danger, and warned them to flee from the wrath to come. They labored night and day, on their knees, in season and out of season, and with tears besought men to obey the gospel. Yet we are asked to believe that some wise men among us have discovered a more excellent way, and that the Puritans were all of them in gross darkness!

Now let me name these poor ignorant men. Calvin, Luther, Knox, Owen, Goodwin, Sibbes, Charnock, Manton, Brooks, Sedgwick, Rutherford, Alleine, Jane-way, and a hundred others of high eminence; to say nothing of the godly Reformers and martyrs. The treatise of blessed Bradford, the martyr, on Election is one of the best and sweetest ever written; yet he freely invited sinners to the Gospel feast. Then, a little later, we have Boston, the Erskines, Flavel, Bunyan, Berridge, Hervey, John Newton, Whitefield, and many more. These men no more believed that sinners have any gracious power to obey the gospel call than they believed they could create a new sun; yet because they followed the Lord and the apostles, we are asked to believe that they were in darkness!

Well; it was such darkness as God greatly honored. I would rather have their darkness than the modern light. Look at the fruits of their labors. We are reaping them today. God used their preaching to the conversion of thousands. Can as much be said of our friends who boast of superior light? I might go even further than this. I have often been tempted to think that our friends who talk thus do not desire to see sinners called by grace. They pronounce it weakness to weep over the perishing! A good man, quite recently, preached from the words (Lamentations 3:51): “Mine eye affecteth mine heart.” He spoke of the condition of unsaved sinners, and the grief it gave him. And for this he was condemned as going “towards Arminianism!” What next? O where is there in all this the spirit of One who wept over Jerusalem; or of Paul who could wish himself separated from Christ for the sake of his fellow-men? No, my dear friend; there is nothing of the Spirit of Christ in all this, but very much of the malice and hatred of someone else.

To write down all the godly Puritans as in darkness is very sad and very pitiful. It reminds me of Matthew 6:23: “If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!”

O for more of the gracious light, immense zeal, holy love, godly power, and vast success, of the Puritans! O thou Spirit of the living God, come down 1 baptize Thy servants with living, loving, holy zeal! Shed forth a reviving rain of blessing upon the preachers of this dark day; and may I live to see a return of what is profanely called “the darkness of the old Divines!”

I fear, dear friend, I have tried your patience. And perhaps I had better not write more at this present, or I also may get a flogging. Believe me, my dear brother, your affectionate fellow-worker, JONATHAN JONES.

June 5th, 1905.

Divine Guidance

PHILIP DODDRIDGE and Samuel Clark were one evening engaged in conversation upon the subject of death, and whether the soul at death rises at once to the enjoyment of the glory of heaven. This had so powerful an effect upon his mind that he dreamed during the night.

He dreamed that he became ill, and his illness ended in death. Not a dark, painful, gloomy death, which is the association we are apt to give to it, but a joyous relief from pain and care an escape from the confines of his earthly prison-house to the liberty and peace of heaven. His poor frail body was exchanged for a seraphic form, and he seemed to float in a region of brightness. And though he had put on immortality, he saw what was going on in the earth he had quitted: he saw his own lifeless body lying in his bed, and his friends weeping round it.

He next thought that he was rising in the air, through vast regions flooded by golden light. He was not alone. By his side, guiding and bearing him up, was one whom he knew not, except that he was a messenger of God, full of dignity and sweetness. He and his attendant rose until in the distance appeared the outline of a palace, more glorious than anything he had been able to imagine on earth. The angel told him that this was to be his home, his place of rest.

They entered it, and found a table laid with white linen, on which were grapes and a golden cup. “Rest here,” said his conductor. “The Lord of the mansion will soon be with you; meanwhile study the apartment.” The next moment Doddridge was alone; and on casting his eyes round the room, he saw that the walls were adorned with a series of pictures. To his great wonder, he found his own life given in these pictures. From the moment when he had entered the world a helpless infant, down to the recent hour when he had seemed to die, his whole life was marked down; every event shone brightly on the walls. Some he remembered as perfectly as though they had occurred but the day before; others had passed his memory. Things which in life had caused him doubt were rendered clear now. The perils of his life were there, the accidents which had overtaken him in his mortal state, all of which he had escaped from untouched, or but slightly hurt. One in particular caught his attention a fall from his horse, for he recollected the circumstance well. It had been a perilous fall, and his escape had been marvelous.

He saw angels there merciful, guiding, shielding angels who had been with him unsuspected throughout his life, never quitting him, always watching over him to guard him from danger. He saw that in that fall from his horse it was an angel who had stretched forth his hands to receive him, and so had broken the peril of his descent.

He continued in his dream to gaze at these wonderful pictures; and the more he gazed, the greater grew his awe, his reverence, his admiration of the unbounded goodness of God. Not a turn could his eye take, but it rested on some merciful act of interposition for him. Love, gratitude, joy filled his heart to overflowing; and yet he had been so negligent of these favors in life! so thankless to the Almighty Giver of all good! In the midst of this the door was thrown open, and One entered One of radiant mien, of all-perfect beauty; and Doddridge sank at his feet overwhelmed by the power of his majesty. It was the Lord of the mansion, his Saviour; and that kind, ever-loving Saviour deigned to stoop and gently raise him from the ground, and tell him not to fear, as he led him forward to the communion table. He himself pressed the juice of the grapes into the golden chalice, drank, and held it to the lips of him whom he had redeemed, saying, “This is the new wine in my Father’s kingdom.” As Doddridge drank, it seemed that he assumed a heavenly nature. “Perfect love had cast out fear,” and he rejoiced fully in the presence of his Redeemer, and conversed with him as a dear friend. Then fell from his lips these joyful tidings, “Thy labors are over, thy work is approved, great and glorious is thy reward”; and then the glories of Heaven began to burst upon him, one glory after another. It was too much: a finite mind may not on earth support such bliss. He awoke overwhelmed with rapture. Henceforth he was enabled to trace the hand of God in every event, and to leave his all to the safe and loving guidance of his heavenly Friend.

The Duties of a Trustee

MY dear Friend, You received my former letter so kindly that you have provoked me to write another. This is in accordance with the apostolic injunction (Hebrews 10:24): “And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works.”

In January last, I noticed in one of the evening! papers, among the Answers to Correspondents, a reply addressed to “C. J.,” who had sent an inquiry about the duties of a trustee. I hope the enquirer was assisted by the answer; and I am sure that it has assisted me. My mind has been directed to the duties of a trustee in a very practical, and I trust profitable, manner; and it is; my desire to convey some of my thoughts to you in this letter, as you also are a trustee.

Let me then first look at the nature of trusteeship. A sacred trust is placed into the hands of a man, who is bound by the terms of the trust to faithfully carry it out to the utmost of his ability. I do not know of any trust more sacred, or more solemn, or more responsible, than the ministry of the Gospel. It will therefore, if my judgment, be very profitable to you and to myself to consider and weigh some of the statements left on record by an early trustee.

“Even after that we had suffered before, and well shamefully entreated, as ye know, at Philippi, we wen bold in our God to speak unto you the gospel of God with much contention. For our exhortation was not of deceit, nor of uncleanness, nor in guile. But as We were allowed of God to be PUT IN TRUST with the gospel, even so we speak; not as pleasing men, but God, which trieth our hearts.” (1 Thessalonians 2:2-4).

“Let a man so account of us, as of the ministers of Christ, and stewards of the mysteries of God. Moreover it is required in stewards, that a man be found faithful.” (1 Corinthians 4:1, 2).

“According to the glorious gospel of the blessed God, which was committed TO MY TRUST. And I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who hath enabled me, for that he counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry.” (1 Timothy 1:11, 12).

“God hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation. Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech by us; we pray in Christ’s stead, be ye reconciled to God.” (2 Corinthians 5:18-20).

I might write out several other portions to the point; but these will suffice. You will realize from them, my dear friend, what a solemn thing it is to be made by God a trustee of the Gospel. It requires absolute honesty and faithfulness. A man may be very able, or less able, as a minister; but he must be honest, or he will be unfaithful to the trust committed to him.

I must now pass on to lay before you the duties of a trustee of the gospel; and I shall simply copy them from the statute-book, so that there shall be no possibility of mistake.

The first and grand duty of a minister of the gospel is to “preach the gospel.” Well, you will say, who ever doubted that? I might reply, How many do it? Mind, I do not mean that he is to preach little bits of the gospel, or to a few of his hearers; but I do very emphatically mean that he is to preach the gospel, and all the gospel, to every man, woman, and child who comes within the sound of his voice. Now for the statute-book.

“Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.” (Mark 16:15).

“How then shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher? and how shall they preach, except they be sent? So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing, by the word of God.” (Romans 10:13-18).

“Therefore, seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not; but have renounced the hidden things of dishonesty, not walking in craftiness, nor handling the word of God deceitfully; but by manifestation of the truth commending ourselves to every man’s conscience in the sight of God.” (2 Corinthians 4:1, 2).

“Wherefore I take you to record this day, that I am pure from the blood of all men. For I have not shunned to declare unto you all the counsel of God.” (Acts 20:26, 27).

From these Scriptures you will see, my dear friend, that Paul was an honest trustee. He preached all the gospel; and he preached to all his hearers. I know of no limitation in these two particulars excepting what is caused by the providence of God (Acts 16:6, 7) and the ebbings of Divine power in my ministry. There are times when I should like thousands to hear not only what God has done for me, but what He is able and willing to do for other sinners. The very nature of the Gospel is to invite and attract, not to repel and hinder.

“Let every mortal ear attend,

And every heart rejoice:

The trumpet of the gospel sounds

With an inviting voice.”

I was speaking to a brother minister the other day on this matter, and he used these words: “I have no message for those dead in sin, excepting to warn the wicked.” My reply was: “Warning the wicked is not preaching the gospel to the wicked.” It is very observable, also, that when such men speak about “warning the wicked,” they do not mean anything of the kind. They apparently quote from Ezekiel 33: “So thou, O son of man, I have set thee a watchman unto the house of Israel; therefore thou shalt bear the word at my mouth, and warn them from me. Say unto them, As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked: but that the wicked turn from his way and live.” When this latter verse is quoted, the ministers I refer to say it means good men who have done wrong, or “the Jews”; and that it has no reference whatever to men who are now dead in sin. I am not attempting to decide this point here; I only say that for such men to say that they “warn the wicked” is simply dishonest and empty talk.

My paper is filled, and my dinner-hour is over. I must therefore leave some further thoughts for another letter. May I just say in conclusion that I am in hearty agreement with your view of this most solemn matter. O may the Lord stir up His real servants to more zeal, more honesty, and more faithfulness, in dealing with immortal souls. Never mind if your name is cast out as an unclean thing: they once cast out a better Name than yours or mine. They never crucified Judas Iscariot. The false prophets were not whipped or imprisoned. Many a name which is dishonored here among men will shine in Christ’s own glory when He shall come to reward His faithful servants. May your name and mine be honored then by Him. Believe me, my dear friend, your fellow-trustee, JONATHAN JONES.

May 3rd, 1905.

The Effect of Sabbath Rest

THE following remarkable account of the effect of observing the Sabbath as a day of rest, is taken from an interesting volume, entitled, “Stories from Indian Wigwams and Northern Camp Fires,” by Egerton Young, missionary to the Indians of the “wild north land” of America: Although the brigades, with their valuable cargoes of supplies, started together from Norway House for the Mackenzie River and Altrabasca districts, I noticed each year that our own Indians of the Mission were the first to return with their load of furs. On talking with them about it, they at once and unanimously declared, that it was because they remembered the Sabbath-day and kept it holy that they were able to make the trip in a shorter time than the other brigades that had no Sabbath.

With great pleasure I recall the following account of one of their trips, as told me one fall, as a campfire story, by some of the stalwart fellows who had been on the trip themselves. Their simple story is another argument for the Sabbath as a day of rest.

“You remember, missionary,” said the narrator, “as you were there at the fort to see us off, how all the brigades left together. That was on Wednesday. We went down Sea River to Lake Winnipeg, and then turned to the west and crossed over the mouth of the Saskatchewan River. Up that great river we went until we turned up north, towards the height of land. We kept well together for the first few days, and camped not far from each other the first Saturday night. As we from the Christian Mission did not intend to travel the next day, we selected as safe and pleasant a spot as we could find, and made our boats’ cargo secure from rain or storm. We gathered sufficient wood for our Sabbath fires, and after supper and prayers, lay down to sleep. The next morning the other brigades went on and left us. We put on our Sunday clothes, which we always carry with us, and spent the Sabbath as nearly as possible as we would have spent it if we had been at home in our Christian village. We held two services during the day, for you know there are now many of our people who can lead us in these meetings. We had our Bibles and hymn books with. us. We sang and had prayers, and read from the good Book, and talked of its truths. We had a good rest between the services. Then, after supper and prayer, we were soon asleep again. Monday morning we were up very early, for you know that daylight comes soon, in summer in this land. Soon were our kettles boiled and prayers over, and we were off. Refreshed by our Sabbath rest, we bent to our oars, and made our boats, spin along at a great rate. In the portages we could, work the harder and get over them more quickly because of the rest. On we pushed day after day. We passed the different camping places of the brigades ahead of us, for there is only the one route. When we reached hose where the ashes were still warm, or there was a log still burning, we knew that they were now not very far ahead of us. We caught them up this year Thursday afternoon, and then there was great excitement, as we tried to get ahead of them. They kept us back in the portage, into which they had first. entered, but when afterward we got out into the river again, where it was a trial at the oars, we managed to get in the lead, and camped that night as the head brigade. Very early we were up and off next morning, and thus we did not let them pass us before the Sabbath came. On that day we rested as usual. The other brigades passed us on Sabbath afternoon, and pushed on a few miles further, and there camped.

“We were up very early on Monday morning, and came up to the others while they were at breakfast. With a cheer, we rowed by, and they did not catch us up again. We pushed on, week after week, until we reached the post, where we found the brigades that had. come down from the Mackenzie River district, waiting for us with a cargo of furs. We quickly exchanged loads with them, and commenced our return journey. We were three days down on our way home, when we met the other brigades going up. We rested every Sabbath day during the whole trip of about two months, and yet were home about a week before the Indians who kept no Sabbath, but pushed on every day.”

As I looked upon the bronzed and healthy faces, and contrasted them in their manly vigor with some worn-out, spiritless men in the other boats, as their missionary, I rejoiced at their story. Deeply interested in the question, I watched, and, as well as I could, I studied it for a number of years on these severe testing grounds. Physically, our Indians were no larger, and apparently no stronger, than were those of other places, and yet here is the fact, witnessed and commented upon by others as well as myself, that the men who kept the Sabbath did their work in less time, and returned in much better health, than those who knew no day of rest.

Gladly then have I recorded this so fully, as another of the unanswerable arguments of facts, that the Sabbath is not only a blessing to man spiritually, but that in its observance he is so aided physically, that he can do more work and keep in better health than those who know not of it.

The Falling Leaves

IT has been noticed that the leaves have commenced to fade and fall rather early this year. We watched the tender buds and viewed their expanding with pleasure; and it is always with a tinge of sadness that we see them wither and fall from the trees. Yet we know that it is inevitable. We cannot keep our earthly pleasures beyond an appointed time. All joy of an earthly nature must have an earthly end; and one of the lessons taught us by the fall of the leaves is that there is nothing abiding here on earth. It is therefore a very great mercy to be taught to look for lasting joys above, the beginning of which may be enjoyed below. The joys connected with the grace of God in the soul are unfading and eternal. May we be enabled to realize this as we walk over the fallen leaves this autumn.

A Few Words From the Old Shetland Sailor

Dear Mr. WILEMAN, as a poor pilgrim here, you will see I am still in life, and the few I have with me. It is now a long time since I heard from you; no doubt you have a great lot to do, and very little time. The winter I have had to pass through has been a trying one in many ways; but it cannot be long. The cross I have had to carry has been a heavy one; but soon I shall lay down my heavy cross and take up my crown. There are none of my old friends write me now, only Miss—, whom you know. A great many have gone safe home. Death has been busy this year here too; some cut down in a moment.

If you can write me a line at your leisure, I will feel it a treat. I am very frail and weak. I long for home. Soon I shall see you there, with dear ones passed before us. Trusting to hear, and with prayerful regards,

Yours in Him,

ROBERT RAMSAY.

Shetland, February 17th, 1905.

For "Young Men and Maidens."

PASSING by a theater this week in the neighborhood of New Cross, we saw a row of chiefly young people waiting in the pouring rain to gain admittance to a day performance. We felt an inward grief, especially when we considered, that if it had been the house of God about to be open instead of a playhouse, much less rain than was then falling would have kept persons at home. But in this pleasure-seeking age, folly and diversion will be had at well-nigh any risk or cost.

Young friend, into whose hand this little messenger may fall, take heed of the first step into a course of sinful pleasure. We address this chapter to you, who perhaps may be one frequently overlooked in the house of God, and your presence there practically ignored.

Then let me direct you to one who has something to say unto you worthy of your attention. He who speaks was a man famed for wisdom, which God bestowed upon him in answer to his prayer. Hear what he says under the inspiration of the God of heaven, who gave you natural life, and to whom you are indebted for every blessing you enjoy.

“Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth”; for He is above your parents, your companions, your master, or your mistress, and claims your first thought and service. He says “I love them that love Me; and those that seek Me early shall find Me.”

Robert Traill, who preached A.D. 1696, says in his sermon on “the throne of grace”: “O that young people would try and use this throne of grace betimes! They would find Christ very gracious to them. He would discover His beauty, and give them of His love, that would cool their thirst after sinful pleasures. They might grow rich and strong in grace before they grow old; or if they died young they should be transplanted to a better soil, and be nearer the Sun of Righteousness than they can be in this world.

Turn ye to the Scripture of truth, and listen to its counsel: “Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? by taking heed thereto according to Thy word.” Paul commended young Timothy because from a child he had known the holy scriptures, “which are able to make thee wise unto salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus.”

Good Josiah in the eighth year of his reign, when he was yet young (16), began to seek after the God of David his father; ten years later, having purged the land from idolatry, he repaired the house of the Lord, and during the repairs a book was found which had been set aside by some of the former kings or priests who had done evil in God’s sight. This book contained some solemn curses against those who disobey the law of God, the reading of which made Josiah tremble, and rend his clothes as an expression of his grief. Thereupon he sends the book to the prophetess, with this message, “Go and inquire of the Lord for me, and for them that are left in Israel and in Judah, concerning the words of the book that is found: for great is the wrath of the Lord that is poured out upon us, because our fathers have not kept the word of the Lord, to do after all that is written in this book.” After the delivery of the message, the words were solemnly confirmed to be true by the prophetess, with a “thus saith the Lord.” But she sent this comforting message to the young king: “Because thine heart was tender, and thou didst humble thyself before God, when thou heardest his words against this place, and against the inhabitants thereof, and humblest thyself before me, and didst rend thy clothes, and didst weep before me: I have even heard thee also, saith the Lord. Behold, I will gather thee to thy fathers, and thou shalt be gathered to thy grave in peace; neither shall thine eyes see all the evil that I will bring upon this place, and upon the inhabitants of the same.”

Young friend, has your heart ever trembled at God’s word? Have you ever feared the terrible consequences of sin and unbelief against God? Have you considered Sour latter end? Do you know that you were born in sin, and under the curse of God’s broken law? We ask you these questions because the fear of the Lord in its buddings is commonly attended with such thoughts of heart, or alarm and uneasiness of mind, and indicates life in the soul, which we would have you cherish and not trifle with.

But has this gospel tract fallen into the hands of one who says, “I can do nothing” and has some head knowledge that grace is sovereign, and not purchased by seeking? Young friend, did you ever try to do anything? Because, if you have never tried, how do you know? Allow me then to ask, Who has taught you what we premise, the Lord, or man? If you have learned it from man only, it may be working a spirit of fatalism, and settling you on a bed of sloth. “The slothful hideth his hand in his bosom, it grieveth him to bring it again to his mouth.” Your helpless, needy, dependent state as a sinner, is a greater cause why you should seek the Lord. It is graceless souls that need grace, it is helpless creatures that require help; it is dependent children that require support. If the Lord teaches you, your eyes will be in a measure opened to see what you were blind to once; your ears will be made to hearken; and your heart will be no longer silent, for there will be the desire, the cry, the look, the anxiety to possess a something from the Lord which to your apprehension you are at present destitute of.

Solomon gives some reasons why a youth should remember NOW his Creator (and to seek Him is to remember Him). Because the “evil days” will corner and “the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them.” If your life is spared, the keepers of the house will one day tremble; and those that look out of windows (the eyes) be darkened; fears will be in the way, and desire shall fail, “because man goeth to his long home.” Therefore remember Now thy Creator, and if betimes you truly seek the Lord, and turn your back upon the vain pleasures of this world, and your willing feet carry you to the house of God, and the salvation of your soul be your chief concern; should you live many years to become hoary, it will be a crown. of glory to you, being found in the way of righteousness.

Solomon saith of those who get wisdom (the fear of the Lord, and His gift), “She shall give to thine head an ornament of grace, a crown of glory shall she deliver to thee.”

Read the first chapter of Proverbs from the loth verse to the end. Observe the invitations, the warnings, the cautions, the encouragements; they are far better expressed than any words of ours, and are the call of God to you into whose hands this little book may fall, should you have an ear to hear.

“Remember thy Creator,

In life’s young morning, Now:

Ere sorrow’s hand impresses

Its furrows on thy brow;

While life’s bright sun is smiling,

And care is distant yet,

Heed not the songs that tempt thee

Thy Maker to forget.”

New Cross, Dec. 8th. S. Br

The Forfeited Crown

ON the 6th February, 1685, the heralds proclaimed before the new palace at Whitehall that James the Second had succeeded to the crown of England Coaches filled with noble ladies, lined the streets. Gentlemen were in groups, on foot or horseback. Flags were hung from house and steeple.

Guns were fired at the Tower; the church bells rung merrily, the drums and trumpets sounded, while crowds of people shouted forth their loyalty, making one mingled din, that passed from street to street, till the whole town was in an uproar.

It was known that James was a Romanist; but then he had promised fair things; and the nation hoped that he would respect their religion and laws. “We have the word of a king,” said the most loyal, “and a king will not break his word.” “We have our fears,” said others, “but we trust all will be for the best.”

How James kept his promise, and what deeds were done by his commands, the page of history will tell us.

The King of England has no power to make or set aside any law but with the consent of parliament. This did not suit the proud will of James the Second. He was resolved to favor the interests of the Roman Catholics, and issued a decree contrary to the law.

This decree, or “declaration,” the clergy were ordered to read in the churches. The Archbishop of Canterbury and six bishops hastened to the palace, and on their knees presented a petition to the king, begging him to withdraw his command. But they were rudely spurned from his presence.

In a few days a barge was seen passing down the river Thames, in which were the seven bishops; they were on their way to the Tower. Around them were other boats filled with the guards. Crowds of people were on the banks; some were kneeling, and begging a blessing from the prisoners as they moved along, while the air rang with the shouts.

The bishops were shortly brought to trial. The charge was that they had refused to obey the king. From early morning till late in the evening, the trial went on. At night the jury were locked up in darkness. Early the next day they came into court with the verdict of “Not guilty.”

And then up rose a shout of joy that made all old Westminster Hall ring again. The throng without caught the sound, and sent it rolling along the street. A crowd of people waited to see the bishops come forth, and when they appeared another shout, louder than ever, was heard, which rose and fell like the breakers. on the seashore.

All London seemed to share in the joy; and as the bishops returned to their homes, the people fell on their knees once more; the bells rang, and at night bonfires were lighted in every open space.

King James was at Hounslow reviewing the troops, and, on hearing a great noise, asked, “What was the matter?” “Nothing but the soldiers shouting for the acquittal of the bishops.” “Call you that nothing?” he asked; “but never mind, it will be so much the worse for them,” he promptly added.

It was soon seen that the great aim of King James was to discourage and oppress the Protestants, and to set up the papacy as the great power in the land. On the second Sunday after he came to the throne he went in his state coach, with great pomp, to the royal chapel, and ordered the doors to be set wide open while mass was performed. When he was crowned he took care that the communion service after a Protestant form should be omitted.

Two papers in support of the doctrines of the Church of Rome were printed by his desire, and sent through the land; while, on the other hand, the bishops and clergy were commanded not to preach against the Church of Rome. An agent was sent to the pope, to present the homage of the king; and, in return, an ambassador came from Rome, and was received with much honor.

The highest officer in the University of Cambridge was dismissed, because he would not carry out the popish views of the king; and at Oxford many of the college tutors were deprived of their places, for resisting an attempt to force on them a papist as their head. Monasteries were set up; and such numbers of priests and monks flaunted through the streets in their robes, that the king boasted he had made the towns and cities of England like those in popish lands.

Nor did the king stop here. Many officers of state, who would not change their religion, were replaced by strict Romanists some of whom were men of low habits, and wholly unfit to serve the country. A priest and two popish noblemen became his chief advisers in every matter. He sought to compel his daughter, the Princess Ann, to join the Church of Rome; and next to deprive his eldest daughter Mary, the wife of the Prince of Orange, of her right as heir to the throne, because she was a Protestant.

At last, he carried matters to such a point, that even the Spanish Ambassador warned him of his danger. “Does not your master consult with priests?” asked the king. “Yes,” was the reply, “and that is the reason why our country’s affairs go on so badly.”

The heavy hand of a tyrant was felt to be on the liberties of England. The king levied taxes in his own name, and claimed a right to put aside the laws of the land by his own power. Four thousand Protestant soldiers were refused their pay, and sent to wander, hungry and half-naked, through the land. All who were thought to be unfriendly to his doings were fined, whipped, or sent to prison.

The king had not long sat on his throne when the news was spread that the Duke of Monmouth, the king’s nephew, and the Earl of Argyle, had raised the flag of rebellion. But their plans were rash and badly managed. They had no money, no arms, nor any promise of support from the people. The king’s troops soon overthrew them, and the lives of these two noblemen were forfeited.

Now was a time for the king to show mercy to the followers of the rebel chiefs. By such a course he might win the hearts of many, and turn the tide in his favor. One of the prisoners was brought before him. “You know it is in my power,” said the king, “to pardon you.” “Yes,” said the man, who well knew his cruel character, “but it is not in your nature.” However unwise this answer was, its truth was soon seen.

Judge Jeffreys was sent with a troop of soldiers to punish all rebels, and every one who had shown them any favor. Among others was a pious and aged woman, Lady Alice Lisle, who was charged with hiding two men in her house. She was not aware they had been in arms against the king; and the jury who tried her felt that there was no proof of guilt.

But the king’s commands must be obeyed; she must not be spared. The sentence of death was passed, and she went forth to the block in a spirit worthy of her high Christian character.

Hundreds of unhappy prisoners, more or less guilty, were hung in a few days. “The country for six miles in between Exeter and Bristol,” says one who saw the sad scene, “had a new and terrible sort of sign-post; the heads of the executed were placed in rows on poles by the road side.”

Other prisoners were burned alive, and some escaped by paying large bribes. The judges, and other persons in power, had many that were found guilty made over to them as gifts, that they might be sold as slaves, or ransomed at a large price by their friends. Thousands were carried to the West India Islands to labor in, slavery.

Among those condemned to be sold were twenty-seven young ladies at Taunton, whose offense was that they had given a flag and a Bible to the Duke of Monmouth. They were saved from slavery by the payment of a great sum, which was divided among the queen’s maids of honor as a “Christmas-box.”

For weeks Jeffreys went forward in his career of blood. The nation looked on with horror at the terrible doings, and deep and bitter were the feelings that came over men’s minds. At last, the judge had done his terrible work, when he shockingly said that he had not been half severe enough. The king mocked and jested when the judge reported his “campaign,” as he called it.

While the English people were thus borne down, they heard that James had received twenty thousand. pounds from Louis, king of France, to aid him in his designs. Then the news came that a pitiless war was raging against the Protestants of France, many of whom escaped to England. And as they told of their bitter trials, the people saw what they might expect should James succeed in setting up popery in the land.

Members of the Church of England and Dissenters were alike opposed by the king. The meeting-houses of the latter were shut up, and their ministers dragged to prison. They then met in small numbers in private houses, late in the evening or early in the morning. There were friends who stood at the doors always on the watch to give notice of danger.

They made windows or holes in the walls between two houses, that the preacher’s voice might be heard in more places than one. They had often secret passages and trapdoors for their escape. In country towns and villages they went through back yards and gardens that they might not be heard in the streets.

But the time came when men not only whispered, but spoke openly of their country’s wrongs. Bishops, clergymen, and pastors, the officers of the army and navy, and the great body of the people groaned under their bondage. There was no law but the king’s will; no justice or safety in the land. They asked if it were not right in them to maintain their religion and their laws. “We have been trodden to the ground,” said many; “shall we not seek to stand up as free-born Britons!” “Yes,” said others, “the king has stretched the bow to such a degree that some day it will snap asunder.”

All eyes were turned to William, prince of Orange, who had married Mary, the eldest daughter of James. He was a man of talent, of good character, and a zealous Protestant.

Near to the town of Maidenhead, on the banks of the Thames, stood a mansion known as Hurley House. It was a fine old building, around which the river flowed in its winding course, and before it spread out to view a lovely landscape. Often in the early part of the year i688, there met, in a gloomy vault beneath this house, several noblemen and others.

They spoke of the helpless and hopeless state of the country under the reign of James, and resolved, if he would not grant them redress, to apply to the Prince of Orange for aid. Seven of them signed a paper, calling on the prince to come to England, and defend their cause.

While the English nobles at home got ready for the 1conflict, the prince fitted out his ships and collected his troops. By the end of October the “Protestant east wind,” as it was called, carried the fleet towards the shores of England.

There were many praying hearts in Britain and Holland that God would grant success to this enterprise. Public feeling was raised to the highest point; and soon was heard from the cliffs of Torbay a cry that the ships had reached the English coast. Seven hundred vessels bore the invading army. On the flag of the prince’s ship were the words, “I WILL MAINTAIN THE PROTESTANT RELIGION AND THE LIBERTIES OF ENGLAND.”

On the 5th, of November, 1688 eighty-four years after the discovery of the popish plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament, on the same day of the month Prince William landed at Torbay amidst the shouts of the people. An officer rode at full speed, bearing the tidings to James at Whitehall. The king turned pale, a letter in his hand fell to the ground, and he stepped aside to weep.

James now found what it is to be served only from fear. In the hour of his need he was without one who truly loved him. Nobles and gentry soon joined the ranks of the Prince of Orange; and many to whom the king had shown favor deserted him. Opposed by his own son-in-law, betrayed by his courtiers, with an army that could not be trusted, and shunned by the people, he tasted the last bitter drop in his cup of grief when he was told that his daughter, the Princess Anne, had also fled from him. Then was wrung from him the bitter wail, “Oh, help! my very children have forsaken me.”

Early in the morning of the 11th of December, a common hackney coach left Whitehall. It hurried down to the river side. Two persons stepped from it into a boat awaiting them on the Thames. As they passed by Lambeth, one of them threw a box into the water, and then landing on the opposite shore, they both hurried along the road that led to the county of Kent.

In a short time the royal chamber was found empty. The king had fled. He and one of his household were the persons who had crossed the water, and in the box thrown into the stream was the great seal of England.

After passing from town to town, James got on board a small ship, and arrived in France. The pope’s ambassador rushed out of London in the disguise of a footman; and Judge Jeffreys was caught in the dress of a sailor, wearing an old tarred hat, at a low public house in Wapping.

A shout of joy was raised by the people when they heard of the capture of this wicked man. To save him from their fury, he was taken to the Tower of London, where he soon. ended his days as a prisoner.

Thus closed the reign of James the Second. It was short, unhonored, and is a blot on the page of English history. From first to last it was without a single event that was for the honor of the king or the happiness of his subjects. By a wise course he might have reigned over a loyal and loving people: but he sought to overthrow the Protestant religion, and to raise his own church on its ruins. It ended in the loss of his crown.

On the flight of James, England was without a king or a ruler. The Prince of Orange soon called together the peers and those gentlemen who had been members of the last parliament. After solemn debate, it was declared by them that the throne was vacant, that James had forfeited the crown, and that the Prince and Princess of Orange should be king and queen.

They also agreed to a “Bill of Rights,” which set forth the great principles of the British constitution and secured to the people many valuable privileges, among which was a merciful and just regard to the laws of the land. The strength of the throne and the freedom of the people were thus provided for, and through the blessing of God they continue to this day.

May young Protestants know how to value their civil and religious advantages, and be grateful to God that the country in which they were born was saved, in the days of James, from the craft of the Church of Rome.

A Fragrant Memory

WITH sorrow I have to record the passing away of one whose useful, quiet, unselfish life will long be a fragrant memory in the hearts of all who knew her. The late Mrs. LOUISA SOPHIA RIACH went home, after a short illness, on January 16th. She was the second daughter of the late Dr. J. R. Fletcher, rector of Quithiock, Cornwall, and widow of James Pringle Riach, M.R.C.S.E. Her age was 85 years, according to the reckoning of earth’s time; but how much labor was crowded into those years.

Mrs. Riach was only ill and under the doctor’s care for bronchitis ten days, and did not suffer pain. She was peacefully resting on her Redeemer’s atonement and righteousness.

For many years past since 1882 I had the honor and pleasure to send out her “Christmas parcels” to Christian workers, evangelists, ministers, hospitals, and other channels of benefit to precious souls. Though Mrs. Riach was always working, all through the year, yet at its close she gladly undertook this immense labor, to which she invited my fellowship. These parcels included carefully-chosen tracts, New Testaments, Scripture portions, suitable books, and 200 volumes of the Gospel Echo. Mrs. Riach carefully and prayerfully chose the contents of each parcel.

Her long, unselfish, devoted Christian life has been a beautiful object lesson to many. She was a sower of the good Seed, and a “succorer of many.” While staying for a few weeks in Sussex, last summer, her testimony was blessed to the salvation of the souls of both the landlady and her husband. She rests from her labors, and her works do follow her; for though dead she yet speaketh by the letters she has written, and the multitude of Bibles, books, tracts, etc., which have been widely circulated by her during the past 40 years. She specially delighted in giving away Bibles and portions of Scripture in large type for the comfort of the aged, and of those whose sight was dim.

Mrs. Riach chose the hymn and the portion of Scripture to be sung and read at her interment; and also wrote, “My testimony, as a poor sinner saved by grace, is this, ‘The LORD is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and He knoweth them that trust in Him.’” Nahum 1:7.

Her body rests in the Broadwater Cemetery, Worthing, awaiting the first resurrection. May it be the desire of reader and writer to leave the world poorer by our removal; and to be followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises.

WILLIAM WILEMAN.

Gethsemane

“The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” —Matthew 26:41.

REST here, my soul, a little space,

And from thy burdens gain relief;

Here gaze upon His sinless face,

Bedewed with sweat, and blood, and grief:

From earthly thought and toil retire,

And hear the Man of sorrows speak:

“Willing indeed the spirit is,

But verily the flesh is weak.”

Remember, Lord, that grievous load,

Which was too great for Thee to bear:

And think on me, my gracious God,

When I am burdened sore with care.

Thus keep my failing memory fresh,

While nature’s weakness would repine;

The thorn within my quivering flesh

Will help me to remember Thine.

‘Tis hard to understand that word,

When pressed beneath a load of pain

“Thy burden cast upon the Lord,

And He will surely thee sustain.”

Yet, though I murmur and rebel,

And thus misread the gentlest stroke,

The spirit understands it well,

And bows its shoulder to the yoke.

Lord, never let my heart forget

That midnight in Gethsemane,

When all my guilt, and grief, and debt,

Were by Thy Father laid on Thee.

Help me to watch through life’s short hour,

And strength against temptation seek;

My spirit clothe with heavenly power,

For Thou dost know the flesh is weak.

WILLIAM WILEMAN.

The Good Parson of Lutterworth

IN the reign of Edward the Third, a crowd of the citizens of London were seen on their way to old St. Paul’s. As they hurried along the narrow streets, and collected around the doors of the cathedral, their loud voices, and violent actions, showed that they were engaged in angry debate. It was evident that some unusual event had drawn them from their homes so early on that winter’s morning.

A priest, named John Wycliffe, was about to appear, to answer charges that had been brought against him. As they gathered into clusters the accused arrived, dressed in a long black robe, with a small round cap on his head. His long gray beard spread over his breast. He looked calm, as though the tumult of the people awoke in him no fear. Passing through the throng, he entered a small ancient chapel, which formed a part of the cathedral, where a bishop and the judges had already taken their seat.

The accused was not alone. Two noblemen, clothed in velvet and gold, walked by his side. One of them, the Duke of Lancaster, placed himself on his left hand the other, Lord Percy, stood on his right. When the popish judges saw the powerful friends who had come to support his cause, they were filled with rage; and charged the two noblemen as being enemies to their religion and the king. Provoked by these words, the duke in return threatened the bishop, and soon the whole assembly was in confusion, John Wycliffe standing all the while before his judges without speaking a word.

When the people who were at the doors heard the noise within, they cried aloud against the good priest; then running through the streets to the palace of the Duke of Lancaster, the most beautiful mansion in the kingdom, they began to pull it down. In their rage they committed murder on a person that was passing near the spot.

These ignorant people had been told by some designing priests that Wycliffe and his friends intended to destroy the religion of the land, and in their ignorance they were driven to these acts of violence. It was like the scene when the apostle Paul was at Ephesus; “and the whole city was filled with confusion,” because the idol-makers, who feared they should lose their gains, stirred up the people to oppose the preaching of the gospel.

Nearly twelve months passed away, and Wycliffe once more stood in the same place, and before the same judges. There was again a great crowd of people; but they were not then crying out against him, and demanding that he should be sent to prison. Since the good man was last there they had better understood his character, and had learned to value his preaching. He was now known to them as the “gospel doctor.”

The people had come to support his cause. They forced their way before the court, and demanded that he “should not be hurt.” The priests were alarmed at what they saw and heard; and though they had hoped to condemn him, they were glad to let him depart freely to his home.

Is it asked, “What was the crime that brought Wycliffe into such trouble?” The answer is, the pope of Rome had sent three letters, or “bulls,” as they were called, to England one to the bishops, another to the University of Oxford, and a third to the king. In them he charged the humble parson with many serious offenses; and he desired that he should be seized and sent to prison, there to lie until further orders from Rome.

Was he, then, a teacher of false doctrine, a traitor, or in any other way a wicked and injurious man? No; his offense was, that he was an inquirer after truth, and sought to bring the people from under the power of the monks and friars, who led them astray; and it was because he thus felt and acted that the pope had resolved on his overthrow.

There were at this time in England many thousands of persons called monks and friars. The monks were those who lived alone or separate from other people; their houses were called monasteries, or places of retirement: the term friars signifies “brothers.” Of these latter were the begging friars, who, it is said, “swarmed throughout England” at this time. They traveled over the land, forcing their way into the houses of rich and poor, living without any cost, and taking all the money they could obtain.

Though they assumed poverty the friars were not “poor in spirit;” nor were they “the meek of the earth.” Like the Pharisees of old, they pretended to be better and holier than others, though their lives were full of evil. They “taught for doctrine the commandments of men,” and declared that all who belonged to their order were sure of salvation.

When Wycliffe saw the conduct of the friars, his heart was much grieved. The best way to oppose them he knew would be to write a book against them; and a book was written in which he called them “the pests of society, the enemies of religion, and the promoters of every crime.”

Angry and annoyed at the exposure, they were ready to help the pope in the hope of getting the writer sentenced by the judges to dungeon or to death. Wycliffe, however, continued to write and preach against them, and with so much labor and zeal that his health began to suffer.

One day, lying on his bed, and, as it was thought, nigh to his end, some of these friars made their way into his room. They rushed to his couch, began to upbraid him for what he had done, and called on him to express his sorrow before he died.

For some time he heard him in silence; then, desiring his servants to raise him up, he cried aloud, “I shall not die, but live, and shall again declare the evil deeds of the friars.” Alarmed at his courage, they fled in haste from the room.

When Wycliffe got well, he retired to the little market town in Leicestershire, of which he was minister. In this place he entered on his great work that of translating the Bible into the English language as it was then spoken. To give the people the word of God was the best way of fulfilling his threat against the friars.

Wycliffe knew that the Bible was God’s great gift to the whole human family; why, then, should not his countrymen possess it? To give it them would be something worth living for; and so he diligently set about his task.

It was a long and difficult work for one man to undertake; but faith and love carried him through it. The word of God was precious to his own soul; and he knew that what had been a blessing to himself could be made a blessing to thousands. So onward he went in his work, with prayer and patience; and as he went along, he found instruction and comfort for himself, whilst he was providing for the spiritual good of others.

Year after year he saw the fruits of his study increase: one page and then another were done; until at length, in the year 1380, the last verse of the New Testament was translated, and the Bible completed in its English dress. We may think we see him looking upon the pile of writing he had made, then falling on his knees to give God thanks, imploring Him to bless the truth to the souls of the people.

All books in those days were very scarce and costly, for the art of printing was not then known. Copies of all books were made in writing; and as this was a slow and careful work, it took several months for one person to write a complete Bible. How different is it now, when a printing machine will produce fifteen to twenty copies of the Bible every hour, and thousands every year.

The Book of Psalms, with brief notes written in the margin, was valued at a sum equal to 27 los. of our present money. A copy of the New Testament was sold for La 16s. 8d., a sum equal to six months’ income of a tradesman, for about five pounds were considered enough to keep a farmer or trader in those times, when so few of the comforts we now enjoy were known.

But costly as was the purchase, it was cheerfully paid. And great as was the danger of those who dared to read the word of God, there were some who bravely met it.

Written copies of Wycliffe’s Bible were eagerly sought after by those who could read. There in a castle some rich nobleman might have been seen with one of these written Bibles before him, “in fair characters on vellum.”

But though a nobleman might be found who could read the Bible, yet from the want of learning, as well as books being scarce and costly, there were only a small number of the people who could possess the word of God. Even some of the nobles and gentry could not write their names; and not many of the common people were able to read. Perhaps not more than one in a small town or village was learned enough to read and write.

We may, then, suppose what was the state of the land when the people had no gospel preached to them and few possessed the scriptures, or could peruse any book likely to be the means of doing good to their souls. England, indeed, bad been for ages without the light that cometh from heaven. Errors and foolish rites, like dark clouds, were spread over the land.

It was at such a time that Wycliffe arose as a light in the darkness; and, like the star that appeared over the fields of Bethlehem, he guided many souls to the Saviour. The numerous books he wrote were spread abroad in the same manner as his written Bible. He also prepared many sermons, about three hundred of which have been preserved to the present day. From these we learn what were the truths he taught the people.

The priest said that human merits and sufferings, penance and pilgrimages, would certainly entitle them to heaven; but Wycliffe taught that sinful man could not save himself, and that mercy was only to be found through faith in the blood and righteousness of Jesus Christ.

The priests asserted that images should be honored, and that there were many mediators; but the bold reformer said that the worship of images was idolatry, and that saints and angels were not to be prayed to, for there is but “one Mediator between God and men.”

Wycliffe maintained that the Church of Rome is no more the head of the Churches than any other Church; and that the Apostle Peter had no more power given to him than any other apostle; and for all his doctrines he referred to the word of God, maintaining that it was the only safe guide to a Christian man. In many other ways he opposed the doings and teaching of the priests of the Romish Church.

Wycliffe did not quite receive all the great Bible truths in all their fullness: it is a wonder that he knew so much at a time when all the land was sunk in ignorance and error. But he understood enough of the word of God to know that many of the doctrines of the Romish Church could not be found there. And he preached so many of the true doctrines of the Bible so well as to entitle him to the honorable name, THE MORNING STAR OF THE REFORMATION.

The “good parson” was much beloved in his own parish; and many came from the villages around to his church that they might hear the gospel from his lips. He was often seen, with a portion of his written Bible under his arm, and staff in hand, visiting from house to house. The mansions of the gentry, the dwellings of the farmers, and the cottages of the field laborers, were favored alike with his pastoral visits. He was the friend of all: he was ready to teach and comfort and pray for all at all times.

Thus he lived, seeking the good of souls, his enemies opposing him even to the end of his days; though God did not permit them to cast him into prison, nor to bring him to a cruel death as they desired.

Continual labor at length broke down his health. One day, when in church, he was seized with a fatal attack of disease, and sank to the ground. He was carried into his house, where he lay in a speechless state for two days, and then died. But though he was removed, he left behind him many disciples, who carried on the good work which he had so well begun.

Though Wycliffe never left his own land, to preach the truth across the seas, it was carried into almost every country of Europe by his writings. His tracts and sermons were read by many awakened minds, and were the means of preparing them for a full knowledge of the gospel.

As his enemies could not prevail against him when he lived, they showed their hatred of his name and doctrine after his death. When his remains had laid in the grave for forty-one years, they were dug up and burned, and the ashes cast into the little river Swift, which flows near the town where he labored. Thence, as an old writer says, they passed into the great river Severn, then in their onward course into the narrow seas, and at last into the wide ocean; and thus became the emblem of the truth, which should flow from the little country town over England and the world. That it shall extend “from the river to the ends of the earth,” we know, for the word of God declares it.

In this simple tale we see through what struggles and dangers some have passed for the Gospel’s sake. The practical lesson we are taught is, to be at all times decided for the truth. By being decided we do not mean to be noisy, or forward, or stubborn.

One of the fruits of the Spirit is gentleness, which consists with the greatest firmness and decision in that which is right. We must in meekness instruct those that oppose the word of God (2 Tim. 2:25). Whilst we are “valiant for the truth upon the earth,” we are, to speak that truth in love (Jer. 9:3; Eph. 4:15). Be decided, then, for God’s word in opposition to all error.

Let us be thankful for those whom God has raised up as examples of holy decision. They labored, and we enjoy the benefit of their labors They planted a little sapling, which took root, and has become a great tree, under whose boughs we now sit in peace. It was through God’s grace working in them that we now possess a free and full Bible.

Let us, then, give heed to the truths it contains, and to the gracious Saviour it makes known.

Grains of Gold

From the late Mr. A. B. TAYLOR, Manchester.

I DO not like the way some people have of readily attributing every minute circumstance of their lives to the one power or the other God or Satan. Such people must know more of God and His doings than any prophet or apostle that ever lived.

The day is not far hence when a small portion of earth shall hide us all from human eyes. May we endeavor to hide the evils that are often felt in our hearts, and put on Christ, walking in love and in the fear of the Lord.

My dear friends, to be a Christian indeed is worth more than millions of worlds, millions of times told.

Brethren, try the spirits, and try your own spirits. Judge yourselves, that ye be not judged, and always safely by God’s Word. Fancy leads a man to set himself above his brother; that spirit cannot come from Christ.

O to live more at Calvary, to feel more of the love of Christ, to tell out better His dying love, to live more like a saint, and to walk more with God.

“Looking unto Jesus” seldom fails long at once, for all who wait for Him are blessed before they can give it up. O how simple and honest we are when compelled to wait for Him, and how well repaid for all the anxiety, the fear, and suspense we experience!

The Christian takes the whole gospel, not a part, and holds the faith of God and fear of God; and though often in a low place, his eyes are up to his God.

In your battle of life, when Jesus comes into your mind, try to tell Him what you want, and what troubles you, and more than likely He may stay some time on your affection and on your heart.

May He help you each to cast all your cares at His feet, and believe that He careth for you, and to pour out your heart before Him, such of you as are passing through the waters, and the storm is raging. There is a still small voice that can find its way through the wildest tempest, and can make itself heard among the roaring billows.

Beloved, be kind to each other. Love as brethren, and the very God of peace bless you; and though we can do each other so very little good at best, yet how much anxiety and pain we may soon cause by being unkind. Christ was never unkind always teaching and doing good. May He who leads into all truth lead us to walk as He walked, and let us not think that each brother should think exactly alike, but according to the measure of the rule God has distributed to each.

Great Mistakes

IT is a great mistake to set up our own standard of right and wrong, and to judge others according to our idea.

It is a great mistake for anyone to think that his views embody all the truth; and that all who do not agree with him in every detail are in the darkness of error.

It is a great mistake to be very angry because others cannot see as we see.

It is a great mistake for any man to think that he never makes a mistake. He who never makes a mistake never makes anything else of any use.

It is a great mistake to expect a child of five to be five feet tall; or a child of seven to be as wise as a man of seventy.

It is a great mistake to expect grapes on thorns and figs on thistles.

It is a great mistake to reckon everything impossible which we are not able to do.

It is a great mistake to speak very loud when very angry.

It is a great mistake to think ourselves able to understand everything in the world, in the Bible, in ourselves, or in others.

It is a great mistake to be ready to quarrel with others about trifles.

It is a great mistake to think that we are not liable to be mistaken.

It would be a great mistake to water the garden with boiling water; to sow the seeds of weeds; or to plant bushes with the roots upwards.

The great mistake of all mistakes is to live for time neglectful of eternity.

Jonathan Jones.

Happiness

HAPPINESS in some shape or form is sought after by all mankind; but as most of God’s good gifts have their counterfeits, it would be desirable to inquire as to what true happiness is, and to be able to discern between the real and the spurious.

Alas, it must be confessed that those who seek after real and lasting happiness are in the minority How few know either how or where to seek it! There was a time in the history of man when it needed not to be sought after, but was enjoyed to the full by its possessors. Our first parents, Adam and Eve, knew what it was to receive true enjoyment immediately from its Fountain-head; and their perfect bliss consisted of communing with their Maker, of doing His will, and of taking delight in the good gifts which He had so unsparingly lavished upon them.

But there came a time when all this was changed. The reader well knows how the great enemy of God and man prevailed upon the happy pair to exchange their joy for that which he persuaded them was far better. In one moment were they robbed of their happiness: no longer could they delight to hear their Creator’s voice, no longer enjoy converse with Him. In one moment was this fair world plunged into utter ruin; in one moment was the whole human race placed under the curse of a righteous God. How infinitely happy are those who have been set free from the curse by the Redemption provided for them!

Ages have rolled away since then, and Eden’s bowers are still hidden from the gaze of man. But despite the angel and the flaming sword, a ruined humanity is still making desperate efforts to Unbar its gates and to regain lost happiness. Futile efforts! Fruitless task! A paradise lost will never be regained by any effort of feeble man. A power not his own must be divinely and sovereignly bestowed upon him before he knows how or where to seek true happiness. Disobedience gave birth to unhappiness and misery, and it is only through reconciliation that real happiness can be enjoyed. Does the reader realize that it is only through Christ that he can be reconciled to God?

That men and women do obtain happiness, of a kind, cannot be denied. God has given to the righteous and to the wicked alike pleasures for which they both should thank Him. But that any real and substantial happiness can be obtained apart from a knowledge of Christ is a delusion of the devil. The best of joys that the unrighteous possess are marred by sin, and all their pleasures will terminate in endless misery, if grace prevent not; but the joys of which Christians have some knowledge, are eternal, and though in the eyes of the world they appear to be miserable and unhappy creatures, yet they can speak of a “something secret” which sweetens all their cares. Reader, are you in the secret?

It is not necessary to remind the reader of the various ways in which men seek happiness. They are legion. What would be pleasure to one, would be misery to another. Things that give delight to some people, would be contemptible in the eyes of others. The man of culture and refinement finds no delight in the low amusement of the music-hall, and he will look with pity upon the deluded creatures who call it happiness to be entertained by such trifles. The man of education and intellect will not waste his precious time in reading the trashy literature which, alas, one often sees in the hands of young people of today. But whether he be a man of refinement or not, whether he be poor or rich, gentleman or pauper, if he knows not Christ, it can be truly said of him that he knows not what real happiness is.

Reader, you may boast of the fact that you know better than to indulge in worldly amusements; you may affect to despise those who find pleasure in sin. It may be also that you take a delight in keeping holy the Lord’s day, in talking about religious things, in associating with God’s people, and in keeping yourself outwardly circumspect. So far, so good; but you may do all these things, and yet not know Christ. Remember the parable of the sower. There are many who receive God’s word with joy, and who seem to have obtained true happiness, but soon their hearts are swallowed up in pursuing after something which ultimately will prove to be anything but happiness. The pleasures of the world may enchant for a time, but God is not mocked. He will have all the heart or none. Reader, has Christ taken possession of your heart? If so, you are a happy man.

Lastly, there is a happiness in store for those who seek it, of which they have but the meanest conception. They enjoy foretastes of it, they know what it is to receive the earnest or pledge of it; but soon they will know the meaning of what it is to see Christ face to face. This is the joy of heaven; there can be no heaven without Christ. This happiness is reserved for all that are born again by the Spirit of God; and such, and only such are the persons who will be able to enjoy the presence of God.

Reader, if you are never made unhappy by sin here below, you can never enjoy holiness either on earth or in heaven; if you never mourn over your evil heart, you will never know the happiness arising from the possession of a new heart. Read God’s book, and ask to be guided in the search for the happiness you now hear of. Ask for the direction of the Holy Spirit in leading you to the Source of real joy. “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.”

C. WILEMAN.

Happy Michael

IN or about the year 1856, the Mining Journal gave an account of an explosion in a mine in Cornwall. Some particulars of this were given me; and I resolved that, if in the providence of God I should visit Cornwall, I would try to find the miner of whom I had heard, and who had marvelously escaped death, and hear from his own lips an account of the matter. I did not, at that time, expect that an opportunity would so soon be afforded me; however, about twelve months after the above conversation had taken place, I went to reside for a year or two in Cornwall. During my residence there, I visited, on several occasions, the town of Callington, which is situated in the midst of a district rich in minerals, and having a large number of lead and copper mines. On one of these visits, as I was sitting at breakfast in the house of a friend, the circumstances before narrated recurring vividly to my mind, I began to repeat them to the family.

“Oh!” exclaimed my hostess, “that was Happy Michael.”

“And pray who is Happy Michael? and why is he so called?”

“Because,” replied the good woman, “he is accustomed, if you meet him, and ask him how he is, to say, ‘Happy, thank you;’ he seems to be always happy.”

“I should like to see him.”

“There will be no difficulty about that, I’m sure; he will come and see you with pleasure.”

A messenger was accordingly dispatched, and in a short time, to my great satisfaction, Michael himself appeared. He was a good-looking, well-built man, of perhaps from thirty to thirty-five years of age, with a pleasant expression of countenance. I shook hands with him heartily, and requesting him to be seated, I proceeded to inform him on what account I had desired an interview. His eye sparkled as I referred to his remarkable preservation, and uttering an expression of gratitude to God, he proceeded to give me the following simple, but (to me at least) interesting narrative.

“I was working,” said Michael, “at —, sinking a shaft; it was but a small affair, only a few fathoms deep, and there were but three of us working at the time; two of us down the shaft, and the third on the grass, attending to the windlass, bringing up the staff, stones, earth, and so on, as we got it out; and, of course, he had to wind us up in the bucket (or kibble) when we had done work, but he could only bring us up one at a time.

“Well, the rock was rather hard, and we had to blast it. We had driven in a hole, put in the charge, with the match, and were nearly ready to fire it off. One of us was about to go up the one who should remain having, when the bucket came down again, to fire the match, and then the two men at the top would soon bring him up out of danger. Well, on this occasion, we were nearly ready, when my companion, who was finishing about the hole, finding the match (which is like a rope, and rammed tightly down) a little too long, he took his tamping-iron (that is sharp at one end, something like a chisel) to cut off a piece of it that hung out of the hole. As he struck with the iron the rock being very hard it made a spark fly, like a flint and steel; this spark fell on the match, just at the mouth of the hole; it caught in an instant, and began to burn. We looked at one another for a moment, and then both jumped into the bucket.”

“But,” said I, interrupting him, “could you not put it out? Or, could you not draw the match out before it had burned down to the powder?”

“Oh, no! It had burned into the hole before I could do anything. Well, we jumped both of us into the bucket and called to the man above to pull away. He tried, but he could not move us. We looked at one another. To stay was to die we thought. It flashed across my mind, one or both of us will be in eternity in a few minutes. Well, I thought, praise God I am not afraid to die! but this poor man is without God, impenitent, unchanged; if he dies he will be lost. These thoughts ran through my mind as it were in an instant; so I said to my comrade, ‘You are not prepared! Thank God! I am not afraid to die. Go up!’ I jumped out and he remained. I got as close to the side of the shaft as I could, though I had little thought of life, and I began to sing part of a hymn about heaven. ‘I shall soon be there!’ I said to myself; ‘I shall have entrance through the blood of Jesus!’ Meanwhile the man on the grass worked away to bring the other man up: he reached the top, and as he sprang out, the charge exploded. With a sharp, half-stifled sort of roar it went off, shaking the ground where I stood. Fragments of rock broke and darted out of their beds, dashing against the sides, and flying back again, while others, just shifted, fell heavily on the floor. But the smoke pouring out prevented my seeing much; however, I felt I was alive, though surrounded by shattered stones, driven, it was said by some who went down afterward, in every part of the shaft except where I stood yes, alive and unhurt, at least so it seemed to me, though afterward I found that a piece of stone darting by me, had just touched and slightly cut my leg. You may depend I shouted, ‘Glory to God!’ right heartily, that I did. The men above heard me shouting, and they were amazed. However they were not long in having me up, and great was their surprise and joy when they saw me come safely. And I was not a little astonished when I got up, to find that my comrade who had gone in the bucket, and who was in the act of jumping out when the blast went off, had got a worse wound than I had, for a piece of stone had shot right up the shaft and struck him on the forehead; however he was not very badly hurt. But ah! it was a wonderful deliverance for me! Praise be to God!”

“And do you still work at the mines, Michael?” said I, for I observed that his dress was somewhat different from that ordinarily worn by miners.

“Oh, no! some friends heard about my escape, for it was talked of a great deal, and they were kind enough to raise some money to purchase some cows for me.”

“Then you are a dairyman now?”

“Yes,” said he, with a smile.

“And you are getting a comfortable living, I hope, and also still cleaving to the Lord?”

“O yes! I have much to praise God for; and as to leaving him, it would be strange if I should do that when he has done so much for me.”

“True, Michael; the Lord has done great things for you, whereof you have cause to be glad.”

“Yes, sir; and I trust,” said he, with a look of happy confidence, “he will keep me faithful to the end.”

Many years have passed since my interview with “Happy Michael.” I cannot otherwise than admiringly call him to mind, nor reflect otherwise than with delight and gratitude upon the wonderful deliverance wrought out by divine Providence for him, and on the grace of God manifested in him.

Hearts in Tune

IF a man had declared eighty years ago that the day would come when conversation would be maintained between England and America, he would have been laughed at. And yet for forty years it has been an accomplished fact by means of the electric cable. But now a still more wonderful means of communication has been established across the Atlantic Ocean, in which no cable is used.

In a short time we shall probably be able to converse with any part of the world without any wires or cables; all that will be necessary will be an electrical instrument here, and a similar instrument at the place with which it is desired to communicate.

But if there is no wire connecting the two instruments, how is it done? To put it in one word, it is done by sympathy.

It is well known that if a violin and a piano be in the same room, and if they be tuned to each other, as if about to be used in a duet, a note sounded on the piano will find a response in the violin that is to say, if you strike a note on the piano and put your ear to the violin, you will find that it is producing the same note, although no one is touching the instrument.

But this will not occur unless both instruments are in exact tune with each other. I remember preaching in a certain church, and all the time that I was speaking I could hear a kind of echo of my voice close to me, and which I at last discovered proceeded from the pulpit gas lamp.

The note of the glass globe of the lamp happened to be the same pitch as that of my voice, and accordingly, the globe and my voice being in sympathy, the sound of my voice was taken up and repeated by the glass globe.

And now we find that if an electrical instrument is put in tune or harmony with another instrument, you may separate them by thousands of miles, and yet the vibration of the one will be repeated by the other, because of the sympathy there is between them, and thus you get wireless telegraphy.

Suppose you have three instruments one in London, one in Bombay, and one in New York and all three in perfect tune with each other, then whatever vibration is made by one will be repeated by the others. But if one instrument is not in complete harmony with the others, it will not answer for want of being in sympathy.

Is not this a very apt illustration of prayer? God is in heaven, and we are on earth. Do we wish to hold communication with God? Do we wish our words to reach heaven? Then, first of all, our hearts must be in tune with God’s heart.

The man who prayed, “God, I thank Thee I am not as other men are,” had a heart filled with pride, a heart utterly out of tune with God, who hates pride, and so his prayer never reached heaven.

But the other man, who cried, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner,” had his heart in harmony with God. Not only did that man’s prayer reach heaven, but his own heart was also in the condition to receive God’s answer of pardon.

OCTAVIUS WALTON.

The House We Build

“EVERY wise woman” (saith the Wisdom of God) “buildeth her house; but the foolish plucketh it down with her hands.” As all readers of these pages are builders in the sense above implied, it should be of the utmost importance to them to know whether they be wise or foolish.

The literal meaning of the foregoing quotation from the Proverbs appears to point to a good wife, who, by her fidelity to her husband and constant care of her household, builds up her house. She is the virtuous woman who is a crown to her husband. “The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her; she will do him good and not evil all the days of her life. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.” On the contrary, a foolish woman, by her unfaithfulness and constant neglect of her household, plucks her house down with her hands, and “is as rottenness in (the) bones” of her husband.

In a moral sense, we may understand the figure of the wise woman who builds her house, to set forth one who, with some fear of God before her eyes, builds up by integrity and uprightness a good moral character, and lives in a clear conscience of honesty toward her fellows. Whereas, the foolish, who plucks her house down with her hands, is descriptive of a person who with a defiled conscience, destitute of all fear of God, pulls down those principles of righteousness which God has placed in man for the well-being of society.

But, leaving the literal and moral bearing of the subject, we purpose using the figure of the house as a spiritual building, and the “wise woman” as a representative builder. In preparing a foundation for a building, digging is invariably necessary in order to find the virgin soil or bed rock which really forms the foundation, as it supports the materials placed upon it. So a wise woman, who intends to build her house spiritually, digs first for a foundation. In digging, she finds much loose soil to remove before reaching a firm basis. Her good intentions look fair, but are found too shifting; her good resolves are no better; her own goodness seems very favorable ground, but this, with her other fleshly things, proves worthless for a foundation. She labors on and on, till everything useless is swept away, and at length, he finds the rock Christ Jesus, the Divinity and spotless humanity of the Son of God, the foundation of her spiritual house. “Other foundation can no man lay than that which is laid, which is Christ Jesus.”

The apostle Paul, in writing to the Corinthians, says, “Ye are God’s building.” But he also remarks, “We are laborers together with God.” He affirms that no other foundation but Jesus Christ can be laid, but he gives this caution: “Let every man take heed how he buildeth thereupon.” The building must be God-like and worthy of the foundation; therefore only such materials which are comparable to gold, silver. precious stones, and will stand the fire of trial, temptation, and persecution, should have a place in the building; for If any man’s work abide, he shall receive a reward. “But for our encouragement it is written, “If any man’s work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss; but he himself shall be saved; yet so as by fire.”

“Through wisdom is a house builded.” The fear of the Lord is the beginning and completion of every spiritual house. Cornelius, the centurion of the Italian band, built his house by the fear of God; hence, we read he was “a devout man, and one that feared God with all his house, which gave much alms to the people, and prayed to God alway.”And in the vision of the angel who came to him, he was thus addressed: “Thy prayers and thine alms are come up for a memorial before God.” The Lord recognized him as His workmanship, and directed him to the means whereby he and his house were built by faith on the rock Jesus Christ; and he appears in the Scripture as the first lively stone of the Gentile church. “Ye also, as lively stones, are built up a spiritual house.”

Further, it is said of a spiritual house; “by knowledge shall the chambers be filled with all precious and pleasant riches.”

“Faith is by knowledge fed

And with obedience mixed.”

“That the soul be without knowledge is not good.” The greatest of all knowledge is to rightly know ourselves, for if we know ourselves we shall have room for another infinitely better than ourselves, viz., “Christ within you, the hope of glory.”

The reception chamber of the house, the new heart of flesh, receives the word of God as the good ground hearer does the seed; and, having received it, “the good man out of the good treasure of his heart, bringeth forth that which is good.”

The dining-chamber of the house contains discernment, whereby the soul knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good; and even “a dry morsel and quietness therewith” will be better than “an house full of sacrifices with strife.”

The sleeping-chambers abound with peace, where the house is built with wisdom and knowledge. In them thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be sweet, for the Lord giveth His beloved sleep.

The whole fabric of a spiritual house cannot be fully complete without charity. “I wisdom dwell with prudence,” and in such companionship charity is found. She suffers long, and is kind; will not vaunt herself or be puffed up; will not behave herself unseemly; will not seek her own; will think no evil. She will bear all things, believe all things, and will never fail. A house without her is nothing, comparable to an instrument of sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.

The apostle Paul, when Saul of Tarsus, labored hard to destroy every building of God; and in so doing he was like the foolish woman plucking his own house down with his hands. But when it pleased God to call him by almighty grace, and place him on the foundation stone laid in Zion, he more earnestly labored to build that which he had previously tried to pluck down. To this end he willingly suffered all kinds of persecution, dangers, difficulties, distresses, losses, pains, and became a servant to all. And as the minister of God, he suffered “in much patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, in stripes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labors, in watchings, in fastings; by pureness, by knowledge, by long-suffering, by kindness, by the Holy Ghost, by love unfeigned. By the word of truth, by the power of God, by the armor of righteousness on the right hand and on the left. By honor and dishonor, by evil report and good report; as deceivers, and yet true; unknown, and yet well known; as dying,. and behold we live; as chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing all things.” Thus he was as the “wise woman, who, buildeth her house,” and the contrast of the foolish one, who plucketh her house down with her hands. Such is the case with all who follow the way of their own heart, whether that way be religious or profane. “He that sinneth against Me,” saith the Wisdom of God, “wrongs his own soul, all they that hate Me love death.” By unbelief and by sin the building of their house is plucked down with their hands. “The wicked are overthrown, and are not; but the house of the righteous shall stand.” “The house of the wicked shall be overthrown; but the tabernacle of the upright shall flourish.”

New Cross. S. B.

How to Deal With Infidelity

BY THE LATE NEWMAN HALL.

I WAS walking one Lord’s day afternoon in a populous 1 part of London, and I saw over a hall of assembly a notice to the effect that a debate was then going on with reference to the claims of the Bible in the respect of man as to its moral teachings. I entered. The audience was composed, I believe, exclusively of men, and chiefly of the artisan class. A young man was in the rostrum, telling us he had been for years a diligent student of the Scriptures, and that he had come to the conclusion that they were false. He made certain quotations, and then went on to say that the wisest of all men, Solomon, became an atheist, and died an atheist, having written a book to show that men perish like the beasts, and that one event happens both to the righteous and to the wicked. He was succeeded by another, who referred, to the lying spirit that went forth to the prophets of Ahab, as an objection to the morality of the Scriptures; and said that the Bible was full of immorality from one end to the other.

The meeting being an open one, I walked up and took my place at the rostrum. I was gratified, and somewhat surprised, at the earnest cheering which accompanied my occupation of the desk. I began my address: ‘If I were to condemn you, thoughtful, inquiring-looking men, with being infidels, and if I were to regard your presence here as saying that the book which has been honored and loved for centuries by rich and poor, by wise and unlearned, is a false book, I should very much misrepresent you. Though some of you may be determined in your opposition to this book, I believe that a great proportion of you are earnest inquirers; and while you have objections to all the different modes in which the gospel is set before you in our churches, you want to know what the book itself teaches, and you have come here with earnest and honest hearts trying to find out what is right.’

The response with which that statement was received proved to me that I had rightly read their hearts, and that it would be wrong, coldly and harshly, to censure as infidels all who seemed to put themselves in the position of inquiry. I then referred to some objections which had been brought before the meeting. I said: ‘That gentleman who has been talking to you, tells us that he has been for years a diligent student of the Scriptures; but what will you say when I tell you that one of the books from which he has quoted, however excellent a book, is not the Bible at all? And then, as to the wisest of men dying an infidel, and writing a book in his last years to disprove religion, that man was Solomon, and that book the Book of. Ecclesiastes, which contains the confession of a converted atheist, and concludes with these words, Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.’ Referring to the other gentleman who sat below me, I said: ‘He has alluded to the lying spirit that went forth into the prophets of Ahab. Surely that should not astonish you. God has, in all ages of the world, punished wicked men by allowing them to be misled: and if there are some of you here determined not to know God’s truth, you have only had before you what they had in ancient days; for I have been proving to you, that those who profess to be your teachers and guides know nothing of the book which they profess to explain, and this is nothing more than a recurrence of what is always going on: if men will not take pains to go right, they will be judicially deceived.’

Though that statement was not at all relished by the gentleman who had preceded me, I assure you it was taken up most enthusiastically by the audience, who seemed indignant that they had been so misled. And then, as to the question of immorality, I said: Immorality! Look at this book from Genesis to Revelation! Look at the law of Moses, delivered when all the world was in a state of corruption; look at the wickedness of the Egyptians, out of which the Israelites had come; think of the tyranny of the priesthood, all which tyranny was knocked down at a blow by the declaration that there is but one God. Call that a book full of immorality! Where was there such morality taught as by Moses in the ancient days of the world? But come to more recent times; come to the Psalms and the old Prophets. You call yourselves liberals, defenders of freedom, and assailants of oppression. Where is there so glorious an ode to liberty as that Psalm which was read at the commencement of this meeting ‘the King that shall rule in righteousness, that shall judge the poor of the people, and break in pieces the oppressor?’ Oh, ye that will not look at the Bible, know that it is your own book, it is the book of the people, it is the book of the poor, it should be your household book, and the book of your hearts. Then come to the New Testament. Look at Jesus, the founder of our religion: why, he was born a poor man; he worked at a carpenter’s bench, as some of you perhaps have, till he was thirty years old, to prove the dignity of obscure toil; he chose his disciples from amongst the working-men, to show that while he gave the glories of his religion to the highest and noblest, they were offered equally to the poorest and the humblest. Take his teaching: look at the sermon on the Mount; see how it begins, ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit; blessed are the peacemakers; blessed are the merciful.’ Oh, if this religion, that tells us to do to others as we would they should do to us, were the religion of the world, what a millennium would at once dawn upon us, what a glorious socialism, what divine brotherhood should we then experience!

Then I said, in conclusion, something of this kind: ‘We, who love our Bible, love our different organizations and our different churches: but we love the Bible better. We do not want to proselytize you; we do not care if you come to our particular church or not, and listen to our particular preaching or not: what we want you to do is, to take this book and read it, and love the Saviour who is preached in this book, in whom there is no fault, though in all of us there is prodigious fault. Find not fault with us who preach, and with our churches, but look to the book; for if we are in fault, our own book condemns us. Be ye lovers of the Bible, and be ye followers of Christ, and we care not whether you belong to our particular church or not.’

My time had expired, ten minutes being allowed to each speaker. At the expiration of that time someone proposed a vote of thanks to me for coming amongst them; and it was suggested that I should be allowed to go on and address them for another ten minutes. The manner in which this was received was a proof to me that we have only, in a kind and friendly spirit, to explain what the Bible does teach, and multitudes, that we think to be hardened infidels, we should find to be ready and grateful to receive God’s word. So I went on to speak to them, in words which I shall mingle with a few thoughts with which I shall close my address. ‘Speak about charters! There never was such a charter for working-men as the Bible. What would all legislations and constitutions ever do for the working classes like one single thing given to them by this charter the sabbath-day rest in all ages? It is the best charter of the poor man’s rights. It is the most impartial code of laws. Do you complain that it protects the property of the millionaire? This same book that protects him in his property, protects you in yours, and in your honest earnings; and the penny of the poor man is as precious to Him as the pound or the thousand pounds of the rich man. Does it call upon servants to be obedient to their masters? It calls upon masters to render to their servants that which is just and equal. Does it call upon you, if you would live, to work and labor, and by the sweat of your brow to earn your bread? Then it also condemns those who grind down the poor in their wages, and tells them that they shall give a terrible account, who, having the means, do not pay their tradesmen’s bills, and thus expose the poor to misery and want. “Behold the voice of those whose wages are kept back crieth aloud, and the voice of those who have wept cometh into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth.”’ Does this book tell you that you are to honor the queen, and pay tribute to whom tribute is due? The same book says the queen is to honor you; for it says, ‘Honor all men.’ Yes; and if her majesty and the poorest street-sweeper were to address in prayer the same God, they must come in the same language, and say, ‘Our Father.’ For however different their stations here, in the sight of God street-sweeper and queen lose all distinction, and are but recognized by Him as brethren; and therefore this book teaches us to recognize and care for one another as brethren of one family. O what a blessed book is this! what privileges does it give to the poor! How it tells the poorest, as well as the richest, that there is free and full forgiveness! How it goes to the very lowest depths of misery and vice, and tells that the loving hand of Jesus is stretched down so low that those who are most sunk may be lifted up by it! Oh, how it shows the poorest that he may now have the privilege of calling upon God as his Father, and that by-and-bye he shall dwell with Him, and wear a spotless robe and golden crown, and have a place in the palace of the great King forever and ever! Oh, this is the book of the poor. How it comforts lowly homes! What unknown heroes it makes in humble cottages in the conflict with temptation! what unmentioned martyrs in the patient endurance of trial! The rose that climbs up the cottage door sheds abroad its beauties and its fragrance as cheerfully as if it grew in the queen’s garden. And the open Bible, however plain its binding, upon the table of a cottage, is a brighter ornament than anything the palace itself contains beside. The sun that sparkles from the windows of Windsor Castle is reflected just as promptly and brightly from the casement window of the garret through which the eye of faith is looking to a God of love. And the volume which our queen values above all other volumes, is so prized by thousands of her meanest subjects, that they would think it a poor exchange to give up that book for all the splendors of that palace without it. And it makes them endure with cheerfulness pain and poverty, animated by the glorious hopes that it inspires.

This book of the poor oh, it bestows a wealth that outrivals gold, a dignity which no earthly patent of nobility can give! This book of the poor oh, it consecrates the hovel, and makes it a solemn temple; its inmates kings and priests unto God! It shows that, to the very meanest abode, there is a ladder let down from heaven, up which the humblest and the poorest are enabled to climb; while the angels and Jesus are at the top, inviting them to come and rejoice with them forever. Oh, this book of the poor There was a pauper visited, in the union workhouse, by a kind gentleman, who was commiserating him on account of his low condition. ‘Sir,’ said he, taking off his cap respectfully, ‘do not pity me; I am the son of a king, I am a child of God; and, when I die, angels will take me straight from this union workhouse up to the court of heaven.’

"In Deep Unfathomable Mines."

THE rivers issue from the hills,

And seek a downward course;

But, while descending to the sea,

They hasten to their source.

So God within the mountains hides

His counsels and decrees,

And treasures deep from mortal sight

His secret purposes.

As rivers through the valleys glide,

And cheer the smiling plains,

So God in mercy brings to pass

Whatever He ordains.

Clouds may conceal His purpose now,

And darkness veil His face;

But light will break triumphant through

To every child of grace.

His dealings soon shall all be told

In heaven’s eternal light,

And the full noon of bliss unfold

His counsels to my sight.

Then the wild storms that burst before

Upon my heaving breast,

Shall sink in death, and break no more

My everlasting rest.

Castleton, Derbyshire.

W. W

Inquiry

Is a minister’s not being able now to take the Lord Jesus as an example in the working of miracles a proof he is not to take the blessed Lord as an example in his preaching the Gospel?

Answer

Decidedly not. For, as while the gift of miracles continued in the Church, the footsteps of Jesus in working miracles in the Father’s name might be trodden in by those who had the gift to work miracles in Jesu’s name, so while the gift to preach the Gospel continues in the Church, as it will to the end, those who have that gift will do well to take the Lord Jesus, the Prince of preachers, as their example.

The Interrupted Revel

SOME years ago a British regiment was stationed at quarters not far from Madras, during the hottest season of the year. It was a fine Sunday afternoon, when the officers were exempted from all duty, and a large party of them was assembled at the private apartments of Major E—, a gentleman very popular in his manners, and of high family in this country. Among the most boisterous of the guests thus met at the dinner was, we grieve to say, the young chaplain, who was remarkable, unhappily, not for the fear of God, or strict attention to his regimental duties, but for his inclination to dissipation, and his inconsistent partiality for all sorts of gaiety. The feast which the party was enjoying had proceeded far; the bottle had gone freely round, and the guests impatiently called for the removal of the scarcely tasted dishes, and the appearance of wines and spirituous liquors. As the bearers entered, laden with dessert and wine, the major rose, and with a flushed face called out from the other end of the table to the young clergyman to say grace, at the conclusion of the dinner. “You know you’re the chaplain,” he added lightly, “and you must support the religion of the regiment, old fellow!” When this mock speech had concluded, the major sat down, and all eyes were turned on the young clergyman.

Before, however, we proceed with our brief narrative, we may observe that, as some of our readers may know, in India during the summer months, houses of all sorts are infested by a terrible insect known as the white ant. When a horde of these dreadful little animals enter a house they destroy every article of furniture that they can lay hold of, sever the planks and rafters of the ceiling, and cut like a saw through the thickest piece of wood. If the attendants at the feast had not been engaged with the viands as they came out of the dining-room, they might have perceived a multitude of these animals creeping in and out, and swarming in the crevices of the large beams and rafters, whitening the ceiling with their multitude, and surely but silently sawing through an immense beam which mainly supported the roof.

When Major E— sat down, the chaplain stood up with his glass in his hand, his flushed face and his crimson cheek giving but too unmistakable evidence of the pleasures of the table having been indulged in very freely. Such a description, we would fondly hope, represents a past state of things; it was of such spiritual guides that Cowper wrote the stinging lines

“The master of the pack

Cries, ‘Well done, saint!’ and slaps him on the back.

Is this the path of sanctity? Is this,

To stand a way-mark in the road to bliss?

Himself a wanderer from the narrow way

His silly sheep, what wonder if they stray.”

Instead of returning thanks, the young man, for he was but a comparative youth, steadying himself with his left hand, and looking half tipsily round the room, called out, “Let us drink,” a sally which was received with roars of laughter.

The tropical sun shining in through the open window, lit up faces bleared and crimsoned with excitement, and now convulsed with laughter at conduct so well fitted to have produced a very different emotion. A moment afterward, however, a change came over the company, and their countenances that had gleamed with mirth became pale with terror. As the young man sat down, a mass of timber above them, cut through by the white ants and freed from the hold of the mortar and bricks, rushed downwards, crushing with its enormous weight the splendid table, and crashing in unutterable ruin decanters, bottles, glasses, dishes, in short, every component of the feast. A cloud of dust, mortar, and lime filled the hot thick air, and eddied in clouds to the ceiling, covering the remains of the banquet with a thick whitish smoke. The noisome animals, too, creeping from the ruins, covered the crushed viands with their disgusting numbers.

It is long since that event happened, but those who witnessed the scene will never forget the terror and the surprise that spread over the faces of the guests, turning boisterous revelers into sobered and terrified men. But no terror expressed by the most timid of the officers was at all equal to the agony felt by and visible in the countenance of the unfortunate young clergyman, who appeared bereft of all power of action. The attendants soon rushed in, and succeeded in clearing away part of the ruin, but the guests hurried from the interrupted revel. Most of them easily got rid of the disagreeable impression which the incident had created, as soon as they had left the place. The young chaplain alone remained, stunned and sobered by the catastrophe, being aroused from his stupor by the total departure of the guests. Then seizing his hat, he hurried in a state of great mental distress to the grand parade-ground in front of his quarters and there wandered in blank desolation of soul. A sense of his daring impiety, uttered at a moment when he might have been hurried into eternity, pierced him to the quick.

He remained in a state of almost hopeless despair for some days, and after a few weeks he threw up his situation and returned to England. His friends procured him an appointment in a rural part of the country, where he lived an altered man, and I believe possessed the fear of God.

S. H.

Written in 1857

Joseph's Coffin

IT often appears to us that God by His providences is denying His promises. We think they are “coffined,” really dead and out of sight. There is no sign of the accomplishment. Yet it is true as we afterward prove that if a seed is to bring forth fruit, it must be buried in the earth and die. God’s promises are like seeds; they have to be buried and die, very often, before they blossom to us with joy, and yield golden fruits of love and peace.

That “coffin in Egypt” did not remain there. It was taken by the Israelites to the Promised Land, and deposited in the center of Canaan. And it is remarkable that when the Lord Jesus Christ met the woman of Samaria, really the first Gentile called by His ministry, He sat on a well “near to the parcel of ground that Jacob gave to his son Joseph.” It was doubtless here that Joseph’s bones were interred. And if so, that “coffin in Egypt” has a lovely promise for us Gentiles as well as for the children of Israel. The first Gentile called was a distinct pledge that God would open the door of faith to them, and that His promises in Christ, to Jew and Gentile alike, should be all of them fulfilled to the letter.

The Joy of Angels

“I say onto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.” Luke 15:10.

WHEN God, in vast eternal times,

Came forth to show his power,

And fixed the earth’s alternate chimes

To mark each future hour:

The angels stood to watch the ways

His wisdom should employ;

Together sang their morning praise

In shouts of holy joy.

When God the Son, in covenant love,

Took flesh for man to die,

The joy which filled the courts above

Came with Him through the sky:

An angel led the heavenly song

Which echoed peace on earth;

And then the whole uncounted throng

Proclaimed Emmanuel’s birth.

When God the Holy Spirit’s voice

Creates new life within,

The hosts before the throne rejoice

To see His work begin:

The sinner weeps his newborn love

At his Redeemer’s feet;

And angels in the home above

Renew their rapture sweet.

Once more there shall be joy in heaven:

When all the ransomed band,

Their sorrows dried, their sins forgiven,

Shall reach that happy land:

I hope to bow amongst that throng,

Unending joy to share;

And sing the sweet eternal song

With saints and angels there.

W. W.

Letter From a Village Pastor

NOW, dear friend, I want to tell you that we have made a departure into a new field of labor. We want to rescue the young men, and we are all poor in this world’s sense. We have started an institute for young men, and I am, collecting a library for them. I have given many of my books, and if you can help me, and I feel sure you will as far as possible, I shall be very thankful. Also, if you can, name it to any of your friends. We are hoping that, under the blessing of God, the reading room and library will cause some of the young men who come night after night to see that life is of more importance than eating, drinking, pleasure, and selfishness.

I have just read your little tract, “Preach Christ.” I have been a humble minister for 36 years. I thank you for printing the tract. Would to God that the ministers had more of its experience.

Yours faithfully.

Marguerite Lebrun; or, Grace Without Conditions.

ON one of the gala days at the court of Queen Elizabeth, soon after the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, the general gaiety was arrested by the sudden seizure of a courtly stranger by the guard. His singular appearance had created suspicion, and being watched, he was found to be armed, and bent on mischief. The queen, having ordered the guard to bring the prisoner before her, asked him—

“Who are you?”

“Marguerite Lebrun,” was the reply.

“Marguerite! Marguerite!” cried her Majesty, in wonder.

“Madam, I wear a beard (tearing it from her face), and also a man’s apparel; but I am a woman.”

“Loose your hands,” said Elizabeth, to the guard.

“Nay, madam,” replied the prisoner, “I mind not a rough hand; what is the pinching of an arm to one who carries a broken heart?”

“Who hath broken your heart?”

“Elizabeth of England. Madam, you have reft all that my heart did love how could it help breaking? My Mistress my Queen my chief beloved, Mary of Scotland my husband too my all. Yes, lady beggared and brokenhearted, you bid me tell my errand. I obey. For years my husbund and myself had been honored in her service; we were with her when: madam, the horror of that scene was a dagger to my husband. I tried, I prayed, that the wound might stanch; but—but, lady, I am a widow. I lost a loving husband at Fotheringay. I felt my heartstrings yield; but I vowed over both their coffins that I would live to revenge both, and I came here to fulfill my vow. A few steps more, and I had succeeded. I have struggled hard against my purpose, but in vain.”

It cost the Queen a stern effort to retain her composure under such a speech; but she calmly asked “What, think you, is my duty upon the hearing of such a case?”

“Do you put the question to me as a Queen or as a judge?”

“As a Queen.”

“Then you should grant me a pardon.”

“But what assurance can you give me that you will not abuse my mercy. and attempt my life again? Should I pardon, it should be based upon conditions to be safe from your murderous revenge in future.”

“Grace fettered by precautions grace that hath conditions is no grace!”

“By my faith, my lords,” said the Queen, “thirty years have I now reigned, and never before have I found a person to read me so noble a lesson. My good lords, shall I not bid her go?”

Some of her most trusted courtiers remonstrated against the act, but the Queen listened impatiently. Turning to the prisoner, she said—

“Are you not a Frenchwoman?”

“I am.”

“Whither would you go, should I set you free?”

“To my country and my kindred.”

“Marguerite Lebrun, I will pardon thee; and I do it without conditions. You shall have safe and honorable conveyance to your own country. My loyal guards, see that she is cared for.”

The pardoned woman looked with wonder, and gratitude, and admiration. For the first time during the interview she made an obeisance; and carried to her grave a reverence for the Queen that could freely forgive a great crime.

So far as the writer knows, the foregoing is historically true; but at the same time, it is a parable, and teaches unconditional salvation.

There is a sense in which the salvation of the gospel is conditional. Man is a sinner sinful in action, and depraved in life, because he is sinful and depraved in heart; as such he cannot enter heaven. God, being holy in character, and righteous as the upholder of law, is bound, because of His holiness, to put away sin from Him; and because of His justice or righteousness to punish sin with an infinite punishment. The salvation of man, as a sinner, then, can only be when these conditions are fulfilled.

The question, then, comes to be, How can I, a sinner, deserving to be put away and damned forever, be brought nigh and justified, and the holiness, and righteousness of God be glorified? We find the wondrous answer in the cross and the Crucified. Does the holiness of Jehovah demand that sin be put away? Behold, Jesus comes “to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself.” Yea, He himself was put away because He was made sin; and from the depths of distance and loneliness cried out, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

Does the righteousness of God demand that sin be punished? Lo, Jesus, when bearing our sin and guilt on the tree, makes His soul an offering for sin. All the wrath due to His people for their iniquities was wrung into one dreadful cup of suffering, and Jesus drank it to the dregs, crying, “It is finished,” bowing His head, and giving up the ghost.

Thus all the conditions are met and fulfilled; all that needed to be done or suffered, ere grace could reign through righteousness unto eternal life, has been done and suffered. In token of this, the third morning, He who was delivered for our offenses, is raised again for our justification; and now, through Christ, and on the grounds of what He has done and suffered, God, in holiness and righteousness, proclaims an unfettered, unconditional gospel to the hell-deserving, hell-doomed, and hell-bound sinner.

Marvels of Providence and Miracles of Grace

DOUBTLESS many persons today consider the age of miracles has passed. Some even go the awful length of questioning the miracles recorded in the Scripture. Well, they do not give evidence of grace in their hearts. They appear strangers and foreigners to that happiness known only to the children of God. So we tremble for their state in that dread day when the thoughts of all hearts shall be revealed.

I now wish to direct attention to one or two remarkable providences of modern days. The reader may recollect “Pleasant Memories” in the Gospel Echo for September, 5903. The speaker on that occasion, Mr. W. H. Knowles, told me that on the eve of his departure for the then young colony of Australia, an introduction was given him to Mr. Westmacott, one of the principals of the shipping company. He journeyed from Burton-on-Trent to London, intending to see him and the Exhibition on the next day. This gentleman showed him over the vessel, told him the outfit required, adding, “You must need some refreshment, Mr. K.; come with me.” When nearly finished, he said, “You must excuse me, Mr. W., I can’t account for it; a strong impression has taken possession of me, that I must return home tonight.” Mr. W. said, “Oh, don’t think of it, come round to my house.” He went, and was there shown many objects of interest from the colonies. The conversation turned on the exhibition of the morrow, and the financial benefits likely to accrue to his visit there. He saw that Mr. W. was diverting him from his intention to return; so he said, “You really must forgive me, Mr. W., I must say goodbye.” Next morning inquiring friends at home asked had he seen the exhibition; why had he returned so soon. He could not explain. The enigma had a terrible solution. That night the train by which he should have returned was wrecked. Many were killed, including a local minister. So we may be assured the unseen protecting arm of providence was over him. Man is immortal till his work is done.

Before sailing from the land of his birth, an opportunity occurred to hear a noted preacher, John Angell James. During the walk home of nearly two miles, his partner scarcely spoke. He said, “You are quiet tonight, dear.” She replied, “Yes. Was it not a solemn sermon? I have been praying that if the child I am expecting should be a boy, that he may be a minister.” The prayer was answered. Mr. Knowles left three sons in Australia, the eldest one being a minister. On January 6th, 1905, this parent received the home call to join his partner, who, like Hannah, sought blessings on her unborn son.

Another instance is remarkable. I met on Barnham platform a christian gentleman, Mr. Thomas Gatehouse, of Broadbridge Mills (now entered into his rest). He mentioned that, being in Portsmouth on business, he said to his daughter with him, “Would you like to hear Mr. Martin, of Circus Church, this evening?” She assented. He was very struck with the sermon from these words: “Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” Returning home, his wife, who was then perfectly well, ventured to expostulate on his delay. He stated where he had been, and the impression given, that something was going to happen. She said, “Nonsense, Thomas you are always getting some crochet into your head.” In a week that wife was a corpse. We would add; “be ye also ready; for ye know not when the Son of man cometh.”

I will now give a personal incident. On one occasion, when a loved parent lay ill, related by the double ties of nature and grace, with a depressed heart, after importunate prayer for recovery, I retired to rest. At four o’clock next morning, a voice spoke in my ear, “The prayer of faith shall save the sick.” It awakened me. With a lightened heart, I anticipated the recovery which was graciously given.

I could give other evidences equally striking from my own life’s history, but for the present forbear.

Now, readers, allow me to ask if you are a friend of Jesus? Do life’s experiences dovetail in with the poet’s words;

“We two are so joined

He’ll not be in glory, and leave me behind.”

If not, how will you stand before the dread tribunal? What support do you expect in the hour of death? Of the righteous it is written “Precious in the sight of the Lord, is the death of His Saints.” But what will be your stay? The life of God in the soul must be begun here, or there will be no heaven hereafter.

You can easily tell to which company you belong. Do you LOVE His WORD. Seek to be much in prayer to Him, every day, nay, every hour; to sing His praise, to assemble with those in His house, who confess that—

“They seek a city out of sight,

Zion its name, the Lord is there;

He reigns in everlasting light.”

Do you seek by loving words to lead others to Him? Or do you love the theater, racecourse, and inn, the company of those who mock His HOLY WORD? If so, you have no need to be uncertain which sentence will be yours. A friend recently said he believed that all in their last moments knew where they were going. Of this I cannot say; but I will point to one instance amongst my own friends. When dying, after sight and speech had failed, he was asked if he felt Jesus to be still precious, to lift up his arm if able. Up it went, and fell back, while he passed on to join the host triumphant. May the God of Heaven, grant you like mercy, dear reader.

I may mention one other miracle of grace. A girl of thirteen amongst my own people suffering from a malignant disease, bleeding to death, lay with the sweetest composure looking forward to and longing to enter the realms of the blest, singing from an old favorite hymn book:

“There is a house not made with hands,

Eternal and on high;

And here my spirit waits and stands,

Till God shall bid it fly.”

Who could give this heavenly calm, this enviable serenity in the face of death, when just about to bid adieu to loved ones? Who can give this dying tranquility? None but JESUS. And she shall help to swell that magnificent chorus from thousand times ten thousand tongues:

“Crown Him, crown Him Lord of all.”

I will close with an instance of preserving mercy. Some two years since, myself and mother, feeling very unwell one Sunday morn, took in mistake for salts a deadly poison; the crystals were exactly similar. Violent retching set in, with deadly pallor. No help of man saved us, for not till two days had elapsed did we discover what we had taken. Then, to annul after symptoms, I consulted our doctor. He said we had each taken more than twice enough to kill us, and death usually resulted in a few minutes. Therefore in deep emphasis we add;

“Plagues and deaths around us fly;

Till HE bids, we cannot die.”

AUGUSTUS E. PARSONS.

The Merchant of Lyons

ABOUT seven hundred years ago, there lived at Lyons, in France, a wealthy merchant of the name of Peter Waldo. His house was on a tongue of land which divides the two beautiful rivers, the Rhone and the Saone. The walls of the city, even at that period, were old and gray. By gloomy gateways the traveler entered into close, narrow streets. Houses, six or seven stories high, were ornamented with richly carved work in wood; and their overhanging roofs almost touched at the projecting parts, casting deep shadows on the pathway below.

The town had been long noted for its commerce and the quays and wharfs on both rivers presented a busy scene. The place had then, for more than five hundred years, been the chief seat of the silk trade in France. The clicking sound of the loom was heard in almost every house.

Numerous trees had been planted without the city walls, on which silkworms were bred, whose cocoons yielded the means of industry, and were a source of wealth to the people.

Peter Waldo had lived in great reputation as a merchant. Success had attended his labors, and he was known among his fellow citizens as a man of honor, liberality, and kindness of spirit. In the midst of his prosperity an event took place which led him to feel anxious for the salvation of his soul.

He was sitting in the company of some friends. After supper, as they were engaged in pleasant conversation, one of them fell to the ground, and when he was raised it was found that he was dead. From that time Waldo became a diligent inquirer after truth. He sought to satisfy a guilty conscience with the false doctrines and vain ceremonies of the Church of Rome.

But in these peace was not to be found. The priests could not satisfy the mind as to the great question, “How shall a man be just with God?” He knew he was a sinner; his conscience told him so. He knew he was not fit to die; and when he asked, “What must I do to be saved?” he was not satisfied with all the answers the Romish priests gave him.

The Bible would have told him; but Waldo had not the holy book. Rich as he was, he had not the best of all treasures: the few copies which then existed were in libraries to which the common people had not access. Besides, they were all written in Latin, so that a person had to be learned in that tongue in order to read a Bible, provided he could by any means get sight of one.

Some good books soon afterward fell into the hands of Peter Waldo, written by the “early fathers,” as they are called men who lived after the apostles, and before the Christian religion was corrupted by the priests of Rome. In these books he found many passages from the New Testament, and much that brought light and comfort to his soul. These parts only made him more anxious to secure the whole of the Bible.

After much labor, Peter Waldo was so happy as to own a copy of God’s word. It must have been a large sum of money that he gave for it; yet what a treasure it proved to him! He did not think the money misspent or the time misapplied that he gave to the study of it. These were nothing in comparison with the blessed truths which it made known to him.

It taught him the “new and living way” of approaching God, through Jesus Christ, the only Saviour and Mediator; it told him that a contrite and believing heart is what God requires; it was heart service that was the “reasonable service.”

Before, he was perplexed and troubled; now, he was peaceful and glad. Peter Waldo felt like a new man; the burden was gone from his soul; light was there, and comfort, for he had found mercy through faith in Christ Jesus.

Waldo had been long known in the city for his kindness to all; he had freely given of his wealth to relieve the wants of the people, but now, while he did not forget to give to those that needed of the things that perish, he was more concerned that they should seek the bread of life for their souls. The Bible had taught him how he might be saved, and he desired to tell others the good news.

He looked around, and beheld everybody groaning under the heavy loads which the priests had put upon. them. He wept over their condition, and with zeal, he entered the houses of his friends and fellow-citizens that he might teach them about the great and precious work of Jesus Christ. He told them that God required repentance, faith in His Son, and holy lives. He showed them the way to Jesus to have their sins washed away in His blood.

He held many meetings with the poor in their cottages; he visited the sick and the dying; he retired to the quiet of the country and the shelter of the woods that he might guide a few earnest seekers into the way of truth: he taught them: he prayed with them; and relieved their distresses. We need not wonder that the people loved him, since he was concerned to feed both their bodies and their souls.

There was one thing which Peter Waldo now desired more than anything else; that the Scriptures might be translated into the language of the people. The translation then in use was the Vulgate, so called because it was to be for “common” use in the churches. It was in the Latin tongue; and though the languages of Europe had a mixture of Latin words in them, they were still so unlike it that the common or vulgar people (formerly the word vulgar was of the same sense as common) could not read it, even if they had been permitted to do so.

What should we do without the Bible in our own language? The Bible in Latin would be a useless book to most of us; and yet it was just the plan of the Romish priests to keep it in another tongue that others might be ignorant of its sacred truths.

“The people must have it in their own tongue,” said, Peter Waldo, and the work was soon begun. It is not quite certain whether he translated it himself, or caused it to be done by others. Perhaps he did a part of it, and engaged able persons to do the rest.

It was a very great labor; but having read the Bible himself, he spared neither money nor pains that it might be placed in the hands of his countrymen. At length some of the books were completed, and this was the first translation of the Bible into a modern language. It was done by, or at the expense of, a rich merchant. Did ever a man of wealth do a better work? What a blessed gift it was to the people of that land!

When the Bible was finished, it could not be largely circulated for this was before the art of printing was known. Written copies had to be made with the pen, demanding long and patient labor; and when finished, a complete copy was worth a large sum of money.

The merchant, however, had numerous copies of the New Testament written, that they might be freely given to the people; and many had the privilege of reading it in their own language. All honor to the brave and good man who thus gave the word of Gad to the men, of France.

But this great service was not enough for Peter Waldo. He was not only the founder of a Bible Society, he began to form also a Missionary Society. Great numbers in the city had been brought, through the teaching of the Holy Spirit, to love the Saviour, and these he sent out, two by two, into all the region around. They carried their books with them into other lands.

Multitudes were led to a knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus, through the humble efforts of these “poor men of Lyons,” as they were called.

These colporteurs, or book-hawkers, not only made their way into the homes of the lowly, but found access to the castles of the nobles. Their manner, as related by a Romish historian, was to carry a box of trinkets, or other goods, and travel through the country as peddlers.

When they entered the houses of the gentry, to sell some of their wares, they cautiously made known that they had other goods that were far more valuable than these precious jewels, which they would show if they might be permitted to do so.

They would then bring from their pack, or from under their cloak, a Bible or Testament, and as they spoke of its worth they urged that this holy book might find a place in the homes and hearts of those who heard them.

In this way many of the nobles and gentry were brought to possess the word of God.

It was not to be supposed that the pope and the priests looked quietly on the labors of Peter Waldo and his book-hawkers. The pope pronounced him accursed, and ordered the Archbishop of Lyons to proceed against him with the greatest rigor.

The archbishop was very willing to obey. “If you teach any more,” said he to the merchant, “I will have you condemned as a heretic and burnt.”

“How can I be silent in a matter which concerns the salvation of men?” he boldly answered.

Officers were sent to secure him, but they feared the people, to whom Peter Waldo had become endeared. During three years he was concealed by his friends.

At length the merchant could stay at Lyons no longer in safety. He fled from the city, going from place to place, everywhere explaining and teaching Bible truth; and God blessed his labors.

Waldo and his missionaries were treated very badly by their enemies; they were called “sorcerers,” “cut-purses,” and “tur-lupines,” or people living with wolves. They had often nowhere to lay their heads, and were forced to find refuge in the forest. “Poor men of Lyons” became a term of reproach.

It could be said of them, as of good men in Bible times, “They wandered in deserts and in mountains?, and in dens and caves of the earth, being destitute, afflicted, tormented;” and it may be truly added, “of whom the world was not worthy” (Heb. 11:37, 38). While burning at the stake they praised God for the privilege of laboring and suffering for him who had died on the cross for them. Thirty-five men and women were burned in one fire, and eighteen suffered martyrdom at another time.

God’s blessed truth, however, cannot be burned out, or rooted out, or put out, by any way of men’s devising. God Himself will take care of it. In spite of the anger of their enemies, in all the countries whither Waldo and his missionaries went, the truth made its way, converting and comforting many souls.

Thus were planted the seeds, the little seeds of true Bible religion, which three or four years afterward, sprang up and aided in promoting the great Protestant Reformation that Reformation which established Bible religion again on the earth, and gave a great blow to the power of the pope.

But what became of Peter Waldo? After doing much good, and presenting a noble example as a Christian, he went into Bohemia, where he peacefully died, in the year 1179. From that time to this present day his name is held in great respect not because he was a great merchant or a rich man but because he gave himself and his all to the service of our Lord; and because he was the first in Europe to give the word of God to the common people in their own language.

As we read of those who have formed a part of the Church in other days, may we feel a concern to partake of the same faith that faith which savingly unites the soul to Christ, and which will keep it steadfast to His cause in a sinful world.

The Minister's Dog

IN some parts of the Highlands it was quite usual for I the fine shepherd dogs to go to kirk with their masters, and to lie quite still during service. On one occasion this admission of dogs seemed quite unseemly to the minister, and he therefore gave forth from the pulpit that he would not allow dogs in kirk any more. The minister had a dog of his own present; and the important animal rose from his place, and succeeded in driving every other from the kirk. On each Sabbath afterward, he took his place at the door of the kirk to keep all good dogs outside.

Well, you will say, ought not dogs to be kept outside? Do we not read in the Bible that “without are dogs”? Yes; but since Bible days there have been many dogs admitted, and there does not appear to be any decrease of canine Christians. A large amount of barking and even biting goes on; and some seem to glory in their ability to bark and bite. They would like to drive away from their presence all who differ from them in the shadow of a shade of an opinion.

These dear friends shall have all the honor that is due to them. They are closely related to the Inquisition of the Roman Catholic church. The Dominicans, the first inquisitors, as the name shows, were Domini Cani, that is, the “dogs of the Lord,” employed to hunt up all heretics, and devour them to death. Perhaps some of them thought they were doing God service; and some dogs, and even puppies, seem to think the same now. But it is all very sad when James and John, disciples of the loving Jesus, call for fire to come down from heaven upon their fellow disciples.

It seems as if religion had given to some little minds a largeness of intolerance and injustice. Such persons must be very far from happy, for they can only enjoy a fancied happiness in smelling error, snapping, snarling, barking, biting, and devouring.

O for more of the spirit of the holy harmless Lamb of God! If God were to let the Inquisition loose upon His real sheep, we should perhaps think less of trifles, and be brought closer together in brotherly love.

We all remember what is written of a quarrel in Germany, in the Reformation days. Two great-little men met at an inn, and began to dispute about their “views”; just as little-great men do now. One said he was of Doctor Luther’s religion; the other maintained that he followed Dr. Martin. Then they began snapping and biting; and in truth there was a mighty conflict. They had not the sense to see that Doctor Martin Luther was only one person. And many of the mighty conflicts of today are just as foolish and just as fruitless. We smile at the folly of these two men, and imitate it in another form. We must fight about our penny articles of Faith, while rejecting the large Bible which God has given us for our instruction.

When the Great Shepherd comes, He will put all things right. But what will become of the dogs?

William Wileman

Modern Martyrs

“IT was in 1835 that the Sovereign of Madagascar I suppressed prayer to Jehovah God, and belief in Jesus Christ. After this, a kabary, or command, was given, telling the people that the queen forbade them to pray, to believe in Jesus Christ, or even to pronounce the name Jehovah. Then cannon were fired off to frighten the people.” Now do notice what followed! The Malagasy who wrote this account, says, “but we thought we ought, like Peter (Acts 5:20), to obey God rather than man, for we exceedingly abhorred to deny Christ. So in Tinerina some regarded not the rigor of the queen’s law, but esteemed their bodies worthless as a bit of cast iron, and so also their goods; so they met and prayed, and said to each other, ‘we cannot enter the kingdom of heaven except through great tribulation.’

“Then the queen’s order came that none were to read the Bible anymore; and one slave, who had been learning it every night, and loved it, said, ‘then the devil will dance tonight.’ A few days after, the queen said, In this land it is impossible that there can be two sovereigns. The words you use I detest. You say of God, follow Him, believe Him. I swear I will not suffer such such fools in my land. I esteem not ten thousand people. I will cut off twice as many. You shall not change the customs of our ancestors.” Then every one was ordered to give up his Bible. But some hid theirs in boxes, or buried them under the earth, drawing them out at night-time to read. And so the Christians were left to themselves and to God. And still they went on praying.

“News was soon brought by a spy, that, fearless of death, some continued praying to Jesus.

“Then the queen sent and apprehended five. Not one denied having prayed, Rasalama was chosen to be the first martyr. They put her in guard, but still she sang much, ‘I have hope of life in heaven.’ so they bound her, and beat her severely. Still she prayed. When they led her to be killed, they took her past the house of prayer. ‘In that house,’ said she, ‘I heard of the Saviour;’ and as the people around shouted out, ‘Where is the God to whom she has prayed, that He does not save her now,’ she fell asleep.

“A soldier was the next to die. He showed no fear, but bade his wife a short farewell. Then he looked round and smiled, and said, ‘be not grieved for me. This will beautify me.’ Then he kneeled down, and so was speared.

“Another, on being commanded by the queen to worship an idol, said, ‘I must obey what God commands. I believe in Him, and trust in Christ, the Saviour and Redeemer of all that believe in Him.’ He with four others, was then burnt alive. Fourteen more were thrown over the rock Itsinihatsaka, and their bodies were afterward burnt.” A list then follows of those sentenced to other punishments. The whole number amounts to 1,903 persons.

And yet the word of God mightily grew and prevailed, though more than twelve years had passed since the last missionary had left the island.

More Seasonable Words

THE following have been received in reference to the two articles in the June number: The words are very seasonable. There does seem amongst us too much of an undue holding the doctrines of grace in theory, whilst the grace of the doctrines, and the fruits of grace, seem to a great extent to have little importance attached to them. The Duties of a Trustee I think is worthy of close attention. As it says, indeed, how many are there who really preach the Gospel fully? We have felt pained sometimes to hear ministers who always direct their remarks to one class of hearers, those already called by grace, and seeming to have no idea of addressing those who are still unconverted. Is it surprising that there are few, if any, conversions under such ministry? Our prayer is that the Lord will stir up in the hearts of both ministers and hearers a passion for souls, and earnest desires that His kingdom may be extended, the strongholds of sin weakened, and His Name and grace exalted.

H. W.

Please send further copies of Try the Spirits, which is most timely and valuable. Whatever are men thinking about? I have always thought that the best evidence of being saved oneself is to desire the salvation of others.

J. E.

Accept the best thanks of many here for the good words of, “S. B.” and “JONATHAN JONES” in the June number. O that the Lord would stir up many godly and able men to “preach the gospel to every creature!” We have too long been in bondage to men; but disobedience to God will certainly bring chastisement upon us.

S. M.

The Mother's Prayer

WITHIN his downy cradle,

A lovely infant slept,

While o’er his dreamless slumber

Her watch the mother kept.

She gazed upon her firstborn,

So helpless and so fair,

Then, by his cradle kneeling,

Breathed forth a fervent prayer.

“Oh, Father!” thus she murmured,

“From thy bright throne in heaven

Look down in tender mercy

On the babe whom thou hast given.

On us, his feeble parents,

The needed grace bestow,

That we may train our darling

In the way that he should go.

“Alas! this little creature,

So pleasant in our eyes,

Is like a folded blossom

Wherein the canker lies.

Sin lurks within his nature,

A worm of deadly power,

Which will, if grace prevent not,

Destroy our precious flower.

“Like all the sons of Adam,

Our child is born in sin;

O Lord, may he experience

Thy saving work within.

He cannot see thy kingdom,

Nor heavenly bliss obtain,

Except, by thy good Spirit,

He first be born again.

“I ask not for my darling

The riches worldlings’ prize;

May he have lasting treasure,

Laid up beyond the skies.

Lord, guide him with thy counsel

Along life’s stormy way,

And afterward receive him

To realms of endless day.

“Oh, look on us, thy servants,

So weak and sin-defiled,

And keep us, Lord, from making

An idol of our child.

Give us thy gracious Spirit,

Uphold us lest we fall,

And in our hearts’ affections

May Christ be all in all!”

Wellingborough.

THEODORA.

Nature and Grace

HOW dark the cell in which the sinner gropes!

How bright his prospect whom the Lord will save!

The worldling finds a grave for all his hopes;

The Christian has a hope beyond the grave.

The Old Sinner Saved

ONE cold snowy night in March, 1867, I was waiting at a little village station in Lincolnshire, for the train to Boston. When it came up I was hurriedly put into the compartment of a second-class carriage, where there was just room for one. As soon as the train started, I observed my companions, and found there were nine of them, all “birds of a feather,” and all had been together at a coursing meeting, which had been held that day a little way down the line. All were of a decided democratic type, some more so than the others. All were quite sober. Some were smoking, and all very full of conversation about the day’s sport.

Immediately opposite to me sat a very old man, dressed in antiquated sporting style, from his hat downwards. His hair was very white, and hung down his shoulders. But what arrested my attention was the wonderful gusto with which this old man was entering into the day’s proceedings; it quite amazed me. I felt God had not put me in that compartment to sit quietly in such company, but how to speak I did not know, till ‘I prayed to the God of heaven,’ and asked Him to tell me what to say, and when to say it, and to help me to say what He had for me to speak. A minute or two elapsed, and then I nudged the man next to me, and in a low voice asked him if the old man opposite to me had been to this coursing meeting. “Oh yes,” was his reply; and supposing I was interested in the aged patriarch, he leaned across my knees, and said to the old man, “Did you come down by train, today, Mr. H—?” “Yes,” he replied, “I rode my old mare on Friday and on Thursday, so I thought I would come by rail today.” This was Monday.

When the man next me had received his answer, I thought my time had come to speak, and in a gentle voice I said to the old man, “How old are you?” He replied, “If I live till next October I shall be 77.” My second question was, “You don’t expect to go to many more coursing meetings, do you?” He jauntily replied to that, “Well, I don’t know; my father lived till he was over 90, but that does not say I shall.” “No,” I added, “it does not.” The third and last question was, “Where are you going to when you die?” The Spirit sent that question straight home. The aged man for a minute or so was staggered at the question, and the silence amongst the other men was quite oppressive. Not a word was spoken. As soon as the old man found his tongue again, he asked me, in a shaky voice, where I was going when I died. I told him that was no answer to my question; but if it were of any satisfaction to him to know where I was going, I was going to heaven. “Are you quite sure?” “Yes,” I replied, “and I am not 77 yet.” Not another word was spoken by any of us, and in a few minutes the train stopped at the Boston platform, and we all got out; but before we separated, I took the old man on one side, and told him I had not asked his age from motives of curiosity, but merely that I might tell him that (old as he was), the same Saviour that had saved me was able to save him, there and then; “would he think of Him?” He said he would. We then shook hands, and parted in the darkness, and I never expected to see him any more on earth.

I was sleeping that night at the house of a Christian family of repute in Boston, and the next day I named the whole circumstance to the head of the house, and through him I learned the old man’s name, address, and character the latter of the worst description. When I returned to London I sent the old man a little book, and a letter accompanying it, with a few remarks on his case; and then I left the matter with God. Several months elapsed, and the affair was almost forgotten, when one morning the post brought me a letter from the lady of the house before alluded to, stating that a change had come over the old man, he had been seen at prayer-meetings, etc. Another month or two rolled on, till last November I received another letter, stating that he had publicly professed his faith in Jesus, had satisfied the minister he was a repentant sinner, and had been received into the church.

Last May, my wife being on a visit at our friends’ house in Boston, I went down, and spent the Sabbath there. At the morning service I sat in the gallery, and my friend pointed out the old man sitting in a pew below, close under the pulpit, a most attentive listener. His long white hair was in much the same fashion as when I had last seen him, but the antiquated drab suit of clothes was exchanged for a suit of black, and the old man looked quite respectable. In the evening I sat in the pew with him. We were quite alone all the service, and at its close I said to him, “Is not your name H—?” He replied, “Yes; but I don’t know you, sir.” I rejoined, “Perhaps not, but I have not forgotten you. The last time I saw you was at T—.” “Do you mean the coursing meeting?” he once more added. “Yes,” I said, “and it was I who spoke to you in the train.” He at once took my hand, and eagerly asked if I WAS the gentleman who had spoken to him that night.

I need not prolong the conversation; suffice it to say, I was filled with wonder at what grace could do. To God be all the praise. I had intended calling upon him before I left Boston, but was unable; and it was only a few weeks ago, in looking over the deaths in a Lincolnshire newspaper, I found my aged friend had passed away, at the age of 79. I was spending a few hours recently in Kent, and there I met with the minister who had visited him in his dying hours, and he told me the old man had died quite happy, resting on the finished work of Jesus.

1870 C. W.

Peace

O PRINCE OF PEACE, Thy royal rule

Through all the earth extendeth;

Thy power alone the sons of men

With shield Divine defendeth.

Look down, we pray, in gracious love

Upon the world’s sad sighing;

Our discords harsh Thyself atture,

The note of peace supplying.

May nations of the world today,

Thy Gospel call obeying,

Submit to Thy triumphant rule,

Their evil passions staying.

The greed of gain, the pride of place,

Thyself, O God, abating,

May righteous love and tender truth

Abolish man’s sad hating.

A. B. Hobson.

Peace

A DISTANT glimpse on a recent journey of the French fleet near Portsmouth suggested the thought to my mind that the expression of friendship between two great nations is far better than going to war. The meeting also this month of the envoys of Japan and Russia brings the word peace to thousands of lips. Let us hope that a real peace will by God’s goodness soon be established.

If peace between nations is so desirable, so is peace among men and especially among the people of God. The children of God are children of peace; and they should endeavor, if it be possible, as much as in them lies, to live peaceably with all men and with each other.

The Gospel of Christ is a message of peace: “peace on earth and goodwill to men.” It is God’s own message of peace to His enemies, who daily sin and war against Him.

But there is a false and fancied peace as well as real peace; and I desire to address a few words to my fellow-sinners about peace.

“There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked.” So long as the sinner wages war with God, and lives in constant rebellion against his Maker, so long does he manifest that the carnal mind is enmity against God. Yet all this time he lives in a false peace and fancied security. Because God is long-suffering towards him, he knows not that the wrath of God due to his sin is hanging over his head. Yet this is only the peace of death, which will end in a terrible awakening, sooner or later.

But the Gospel comes to sinners as a Royal Proclamation of Peace and Pardon. I was much struck in reading lately (Deut. 20:10) to notice God’s command to Israel in going up to conquer the land. “When thou comest nigh unto a city to fight against it, then proclaim peace unto it. And it shall be, if it make thee answer of peace, and open unto thee, then it shall be, that all the people that is found therein shall be tributaries unto thee, and they shall serve thee. And if it will make no peace with thee, but will make war against thee, then thou shalt besiege it.”

It is just so in the proclamation of the Gospel. We go forth in our Master’s name, “preaching peace by Jesus Christ.” Where the message is sent home by Almighty power, the sinner’s heart is by sweet grace opened to receive it. But when the hearts of sinners remain fast closed in their native enmity, our peace returns to us again, and the word preached is a savor of death unto death to the hearers.

Christ has “made peace” by the blood of His cross, that is, by His death. This is the glad message we bring you, dear fellow-sinners, in our hands. We do not tell you to make peace with God. Christ has made peace with God. Christ is peace. “He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him.”

How nice is peace after a storm! It is sweet after passing the dark night on the stormy sea to see the return of calm and quiet at dawn of day. The Lord can still the fiercest storm by just a word. When He says, “Peace, be still!” the wind and the sea alike obey His voice. “He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so He bringeth them unto their desired haven.”

How sweet is the peace brought by forgiveness of sin! This is indeed to realize that God and the sinner are reconciled by Christ; and this peace while enjoyed cannot be invaded by any enemy. To know that all sin is forever put away is the sweetest peace on earth.

There is also the peace of a quiet resting upon God. “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee, because he trusteth in Thee.” This is the peace of God, a holy calm resting on His promise and faithfulness. This while it is enjoyed shuts out worldly care and unquiet, and enables us to rest in God.

What a great favor is peace in death. I do not mean that false peace which I fear so often prevails when friends say “he died like a lamb.” This is often, I fear, a stupid unfeeling calm of spiritual death. But there is real peace when a believer dies. His sins are forgiven him; he has the presence of his God even in passing through death’s dark valley; and he knows that it is well with him, and that it will be well with him forever. “Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright; for the end of that man is peace.” He dies in peace with God, and leaves this unquiet earth to dwell with God in eternal rest.

August 8th, 1905.

JONATHAN JONES.

Peace Better Than War

LUTHER gives an account of a Duke of Saxony, who made war unnecessarily upon a bishop of Germany. At that period ecclesiastics could command military resources as well as the secular nobility; but the weapons of, the good bishop were not carnal. The duke thought proper, in a very artful way, to send a spy into the company of the bishop, to ascertain his plan of carrying on the contest. On his return, the spy was eagerly interrogated by the duke. “Oh, sir,” replied he, “you may surprise him without fear; he is doing nothing, and making no preparation.” “How is that?” asked the duke; “what does he say?” “He says he will feed his flock, preach the Word, visit the sick and that, as for this war, he should commit the weight of it to God Himself.” “Is it so?” said the duke; “then let the devil wage war against him; I will not.”

Men may often avoid the greatest threatened evils by committing their cause entirely to God. And evil men often fall into the greatest sorrows, by lifting up their hands against God’s poor praying people.

The Pharisee and Publican

THE Word of God records a certain test,

By which a true believer may be known:

The Pharisee will smite his fellow’s breast;

The grace-taught publican will smite his own.

A Pilgrim Song

MY Saviour is with me; my Father is too;

The Comforter cheers me; this also I know

He never will leave me; He loves me too well;

He’ll never deceive me, I safely can tell.

My sins He hath carried, and borne on the tree;

From death He delivered, and set me quite free;

And now, though in glory, He dwelleth in me,

And tells me that with Him I ever shall be.

His truth is so stable, it never can fail;

His power is almighty, and sure will prevail;

His wisdom unerring will constantly guide,

And keep me in safety, whatever betide.

Though some may avoid me, and leave me alone,

Yet He understands me, and knoweth His own;

Whatever may try me while here in His fold

Shall only refine me, aye, brighter than gold.

Ah, well may I praise Him with prospect so bright,

And bear with submission affliction so light :

‘Tis but for a moment, and then, 0 the bliss—

My Saviour in glory is seen as He is.

Then, there I shall see in the light of His face

How all has been moving in wonderful grace;

That nothing was lacking of pleasure or pain,

But all things were working my infinite gain.

Thus onward I journey, with heaven in my view,

Not seeking my home in this region below;

But looking for Him who is coming again,

Then with Him in glory for ever to reign.

Now what shall I render for mercy so great,

For love that’s so tender, when well He might hate?

By grace will I serve him as long as I live,

And to Him the glory for ever I’ll give.

O Thou, blessed Father, and Spirit, and Son,

Mysterious Godhead, Thou Three and yet One:

Thou source of salvation, so great and so free,

All love, adoration, and praise be to Thee!

The Praise of Jesus.

“And in His temple doth every one speak of His glory.”—Psalms 29:9.

WHEN the sweet anthem rolls along

In God’s fair temple here below,

Jesus, the theme of every song,

Comes down to make His praises flow.

And I have heard His glorious Name,

In rising and in falling strains,

With thousand hearts and tongues aflame,

Re-echoed by the hills and plains.

But what are all our songs below,

Compared with His eternal love?

I therefore sometimes long to know

How saints and angels sing above.

“Worthy the Lamb who once was slain”—

Is the grand effort of their songs:

“Worthy is He to live and reign,

For endless power to Him belongs.”

Jesus, the Theme of every song,

I hope to sing Thy grace and love,

While the sweet anthem rolls along

To all eternity above.

Prayer and Blessing

WHEN the sun rises, there is light. Why, I do not know. There might have been light without the sun, and there might have been a sun that gave no light, but God has been pleased to put these two things together sunrise and light. So, whenever there is prayer, there is a blessing. I do not know why. There might have been prayer without a blessing, for there is in the world of wrath; and there might have been a blessing without prayer, for it often is sent to some who sought it not. But God has been pleased to make this a rule for the government of the moral and spiritual universe, that there shall be prayer first, and that then there shall be the answer to prayer.

A Priceless Portion

AMONG the different things portrayed by the immortal Bunyan as shown to Christian in the house of the Interpreter, were two little children, each sitting in a chair in a small room. The eldest was named Passion, and the other Patience. Passion appeared much discontented; Patience was very quiet. The governor of them would have them stay for their best things till the beginning of next year; but Passion would have them now, whereas Patience was willing to wait. “I saw,” saith the dreamer, “that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet, the which he took up and rejoiced therein, and withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left but rags.”

“These two lads,” saith the Interpreter, “are figures: Passion, of the men of the world; and Patience, of the men of that which is to come. For, as here thou seest, Passion will have all now, this year; that is to say, in this world. So are the men of this world: they must have all their good things now, they cannot stay till next year; that is, until the next world for their portion of good. That proverb, A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” is of more authority with them, than all the divine testimonies of the good of the world to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, and had presently left him nothing but rags; so will it be with all such men at the end of the world.

“Patience, however, has the best wisdom, because he stays for his best things. He will have the glory of his when the other has nothing but rags, and such a glory that will never wear out. Therefore the conclusion is, he that hath his portion first, must needs have time to spend it; but he that hath his portion last, must have it lastingly. Therefore it is said of Dives, ‘In thy lifetime thou receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.’”

Thomas Brooks, the Puritan, relates a story of a man, “whom Chrysostom did feign to be in prison, Oh, saith he, if I had but liberty, I would desire no more! He had it. Oh then, if I had but for necessity, I would desire no more! He had it. Oh then, had I for a little variety, I would desire no more! He had it. Oh then, had I any office, were it the meanest, I would desire no more! He had it. Oh then, had I but a magistracy, though over one town only, I would desire no more! He had it. Oh then, were I a prince, I would desire no more! He had it. Oh then, were I but a king, I would desire no more! He had it. Oh then, were I but an emperor, I would desire no more 1 He had it. Oh then, were I but an emperor of the whole world, I would desire no more! He had it. And yet then he sits down with Alexander, and weeps that there are no more worlds for him to possess.” Such is a true picture of the unsatisfying nature of earthly portions. All that is of the earth must perish, and he that binds earthly portions about him will find them to be comparable to a millstone about his neck to sink him lower than the grave.

If we turn to the Word of God, we shall find that the psalmist David prayed that he might be delivered “from men of the world which have their portion in this life, and whose belly thou fillest with thy hid treasure.” And such should be our prayer, as our hearts by nature are no better than those of worldly men, and God only can incline us to set our affection on things above.

The psalmist Asaph confesses that he was envious of the foolish when he saw the prosperity of the wicked; observing “They are not in trouble as other men (the godly), neither are they plagued like other men. Pride compasseth them about as a chain; they have more than heart could wish. Behold, these are the ungodly, who prosper in the world; they increase in riches.” But, withdrawing his emulations, his thoughts becoming too painful for him, he goes into God’s sanctuary, and there understands their end: “Surely thou didst set them in slippery places, thou castedst them down into destruction: How are they brought into desolation as in a moment I they are utterly consumed with terror. As a dream when one awaketh, so, O Lord, when thou awakest, thou shalt despise their image.”

Asaph gloried not in the desolation of the wicked, but turns to himself, and says, “So foolish was I, and ignorant: I was as a beast before thee.” But faith in his heart acknowledges the Lord’s keeping and guidance, and triumphantly exclaims, “Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee. My flesh and my heart faileth; but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.” It was through the path of exercise he came at this assurance. In the same path did the prophet Jeremiah travel when he declared, “The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in Him”; for he saith previously, “I am the man that hath seen affliction by the rod of his wrath. He hath led me into darkness, and not into light; God’s hand is turned against me; he hath hedged me about, that I cannot get out; he shutteth out my prayer; I am set as a mark for an arrow; my strength and hope is perished from the Lord.” All this had a humbling tendency upon him; then hope suddenly springs up, and after declaring it to be of the “Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not,” Jeremiah like Asaph declares: “The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in Him.”

Is the Lord thy portion, dear reader? If you can truthfully say so, then we presume you came by this assurance through the path of tribulation, as this is the ordinary way the Lord makes such a priceless portion known.

But although the blessing has cost you something, the gift has more than swallowed up the trial. You have found Him a life-giving Portion. All the springs of love, desire, hope, earnests, longings, thirstings, renewings, and revivings all flow from this fountain of life, eve as a branch derives its virtue from the sap of the vine.

He, too, is a health-giving Portion, for He saith, “I am the Lord that healeth thee.” There can be no spiritual health without Him. We may be very healthy in body, but if Christ is not our portion, we shall perish by the disease of sin. Better to be sickly in body, and healthy in soul by having Christ, than healthy in body, and destitute of Him.

He is also a providing Portion, for His name is “JEHOVAH-JIREH as it is said to this day, In the mount of the Lord it shall be seen.” “He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things.” “Who giveth food to all flesh; for His mercy endureth forever.”

He is, further, a redeeming Portion. He having obtained eternal redemption for us by the shedding of His most precious blood, by which the soul who has Christ for his portion is redeemed from the wrath of God due to him as a sinner; he is also redeemed from death, for as his Portion lives, he lives by Him.

He is an unchanging Portion, “I am the Lord thy God, I change not.” Erskine says:

“Whate’er we found Him at our best,

He’s at our worst the same.”

He may change the aspect of His providences, but His purpose is unchangeable.

We might speak of the Lord as a grace portion, a peace-giving portion, a loving portion, but time forbids. In conclusion, God is an all-sufficient, incomprehensible, and eternal portion. No human types or figures can in any degree set Him forth; His greatness is unsearchable. He can only be seen by faith as revealed in the person of His dear Son. To be enabled to say that this God is our God forever and ever, and will be our guide even unto death, is indeed a most desirable portion. By grace this lot has fallen upon us, and we can sing with the late William Gadsby:

“Immortal honors rest on Jesus’ head:

My God, my portion, and my living bread.”

New Cross, March 20th, 1905. S. B.

Reading the Will

When a wealthy person had died, there is a good deal of anxiety to know whether, in the distribution of the property, there will be anything left by the will to any outside the circle of the nearest relatives. I well remember being at a funeral, after which a letter was received from one who had expected to be remembered, asking how much had been left to him. He was to be disappointed in course of post. Last year I had to examine a will, and found that a sum had been left to a person named therein; but a codicil left the payment optional at the discretion of the executor, who decided to withhold it.

How many must be disappointed who entertain expectations of this nature! And how many there are receive legacies who foolishly squander the wealth they come into possession of so early!

But there is a Will which bequeaths infinite riches and boundless pleasures; and yet how few comparatively there are who appear to be at all anxious to know whether their names are written in its pages. This will is of very ancient date: it was written before the foundation of the world, before time began. It was made by a rich and glorious Person; and it bequeaths the most extensive riches for time and eternity.

I remember, when quite a little boy, being much impressed by reading of Selina Hastings (afterward Countess of Huntingdon), who, when nine years of age, saw a passing funeral. This led her to solemn reflection and to earnest prayer. When she grew older she wrote a poem on the Day of Judgment, which contained the following stanzas:

“Oh when my righteous Judge shall come

To fetch His ransomed people home,

Shall I among them stand?

Shall such a worthless worm as I,

Who sometimes am afraid to die,

Be found at His right hand?

“I love to meet among them now,

Before His gracious feet to bow,

Though vilest of them all:

But can I bear the piercing thought

What if my name should be left out,

When He for them shall call?

“Prevent, prevent it by Thy grace;

Be Thou, dear Lord, my hiding-place

In this the accepted day:

Thy pardoning voice O let me hear,

To still my unbelieving fear;

Nor let me fall, I pray.

“Let me among Thy saints be found,

Whene’er the archangel’s trump shall sound,

To see Thy smiling face:

Then loudest of the crowd I’ll sing,

While heaven’s resounding mansions ring

With shouts of sovereign grace.”

In these lines there is an evident anxiety to realize an interest in what God has written about His people, and in what He has promised to be to them and to do for them. Have you, my dear reader, felt this anxiety? or are you unconcerned and careless?

You may ask me in return what this Will is, and where it is, and how its contents may be known. It is, in fact, the Covenant of grace; but the reader for whom these lines are intended will perhaps more readily perceive my meaning if I refer him to the Bible the Word of God. This blessed word is the mind and will of God made known to sinners. What He is to sinners who seek Him, what He does for them, and what He has in reserve for them, all is revealed in this wonderful Book. Sinners, too, are as exactly described as if their human names were written on the pages. These are some of the descriptions: “Everyone that thirsteth.” “Whosoever will.” “He that seeketh.” “All ye who labor and are heavy laden.”

These, then, are as it were the names of the persons who are interested in the Will, which is signed by God Himself, and witnessed by the Holy Spirit who makes its contents known.

Have you, dear reader, seen your name thus written in the Will? If so, you know something of what is in store for you, and of what is now most certainly yours. All things are yours; for all things are bequeathed to those who belong to the Lord Jesus Christ. All they need here below, and all they hope for above, is their own. It is made known to them now by faith; and the day is coming when they shall eternally enter into the inheritance reserved for them.

W. W.

Recorded Mercies

IN a comfortable cottage by the side of the river Welland, which flows through the divisions of Deeping, there resides a lady of well-nigh four score, possessing such a cheerful grateful spirit that it is a pleasure to converse with her.

During our visit to Market Deeping, in June, 1905, we had a much needed plentiful rain, which was a matter of public acknowledgment before God. On leaving the chapel the next Sunday, the aged friend before-named remarked, “Now is the time to praise the Lord;” and quoting from a psalm with which she is familiar, added, “Then shall the earth yield her increase; and God, even our own God, shall bless us.” The name of the person we thus introduce is ANN QUINCEY; and we purpose that a few particulars of her life, which she has related to us, shall form the subject of this present article.

Ann Quincey was born at Shenley Hill, near Barnet, Herts. Her father, Mr. Montgomery, was a godly man. When old enough, she was sent to the parish school, and on Sunday attended a Sunday school, to which she became much attached.

After leaving school, she entered domestic service in a quiet home, and on Lord’s days attended a place of worship where the gospel was not fully preached. During this time it pleased the Lord to open her eyes to a discovery of her guilty state as a sinner in His sight. She was arrested with the following words: “He that, being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy.” A damp sweat came over her, and she felt most unhappy under a sense of the anger of the Lord. Eventually she fell asleep, and on awaking was thankful to the Lord for sparing her, promising how good she would be in the future if he would but show her mercy. Pursuant to her resolution, she became very religious, all the while flattering herself in her own goodness, although it brought her no true peace or satisfaction.

A young woman lent her the “Life of Agnes Beaumont” to read, the perusal of which created a desire to be equally godly as she was; which, although a good desire, yet springing from a proud heart, tended to build up a righteousness of her own to be pleasing unto God. She grew more and more dissatisfied with herself while she still labored to be good, for the Lord, who was her teacher, again and again discovered to her how bad she was, and at length He led her to see that it was sinners, not righteous people, He came to save. These words came into her heart with some power: “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” (Mark 2:17.) She then saw very clearly that being a convinced sinner gave her ground to hope in Christ Jesus, and this produced faith in her heart in Him as her salvation. She also saw that righteousness in herself could afford no plea for mercy, but rejoiced in the fact penned by Mr. Hart:

“Not the righteous,

Sinners Jesus came to call.”

Her heart overflowed with love to the Lord for his manifested mercy; and being full of zeal, she made no hesitation, but soon made an open profession of her religion. The relation of her experience was thought a wonderful one by those with whom she cast in her lot; and she was looked upon as a very bright disciple of the Lord. She could see that God’s sovereignty was as much displayed, in her as it was in Mr. Hart, who ignorantly strove by sin to fling his life away, but could not; whereas she had been striving by a self-righteous spirit to save herself, but could not.

How long our friend continued attending with her first friends did not transpire in our conversation; but as she believed her pastor was a godly man, she entertained no thought of leaving the chapel, or removing from her comfortable situation, where everything tended to her happiness. The Lord’s thoughts, however, are not according to man’s thoughts, neither are his ways man’s ways. He was about to lead our friend to another pasturage, where she might eat clean provender. At length in God’s providence her peace of mind was disturbed by receiving a letter from Miss Barringer, who, having heard of her, desired of her to accept of a situation she had open at Peterborough. She felt constrained to submit this application unto the Lord by prayer, not knowing what to do; but on informing her master of it, he considered she would be very foolish to leave his home and go among strangers, and was angry with her for entertaining the proposal. However, though it cost her some self-denial, yet, believing that it was the right way, she decided to leave, giving her master no other reason than that she felt it was God’s will for her to do so.

On arriving at Peterborough, she appeared very lonely. This, however, was soon removed, for on her first visit to the chapel where Miss Barringer attended, the late Mr. TRYON was supplying. He was led so fully to describe her case as to fill her with astonishment. She had never heard the like at the former chapel she had attended. The subject was from the book of Ruth; and she saw that she had, like her, come from her own country to glean in the fields of the heavenly Boaz. And continuing to glean, such handfuls of purpose were dropped for her from time to time as to fill her heart with much joy and love to the Lord, who had taken knowledge of her, seeing she was but a stranger.

These were the days of her first love; and having little, if any, worldly care, she could sit down under the apple tree of God’s favor and find His fruit sweet to her taste. But, her times being in God’s hand, He ordained in His providence that she should receive an offer of marriage, which she accepted, and eventually left service, and went to reside at Northborough, and subsequently became a member of Mr. Tryon’s church, St. James’ Deeping.

Her entry into a married life proved a path of tribulation. She lost by death nine children out of ten born to her; and her husband, who was a farm laborer, by the loss of his sight was compelled to relinquish his situation.

Some of their friends proposed a weekly contribution, but she would not consent to live on charity. The Lord caused her to hope by giving her this promise: “Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.” They took three acres of land, and by the help of friends obtained a horse and cart, in which she conveyed to the markets of Peterborough and Stamford the produce of their land. Her husband would often say to her on loading the cart, “You will never sell your things;” but she would drive along the country roads praying to the Lord nearly all the way. And it was wonderful to see how the people used to purchase her goods; and she invariably returned home with purchased articles by the result of her sales.

From the raising of vegetables and fruit she started the cultivation of flowers, and sometimes took as much as €3 per week from the sale of flowers only. Many times did she return the eight or ten miles, blessing and praising the Lord for His goodness towards her.

We must pass over the other events of her life, to relate a trial which overtook her through her father, who was a widower, coming to reside with her. He was then suffering with cancer, which appeared to affect him mentally, being beset with a distressing temptation that the devil would take him away. His case became very trying but before the worst phase of the trial, the Lord was pleased to apply the following promises to her heart: “When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shall not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.” Also: “Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me.”

These promises were mercifully fulfilled when the trial was at its worst. Her father one night got up. under the influence of a powerful temptation, and ran downstairs, fleeing into the street. His daughter pursued him, but he escaped she knew not where. She returned to her home, and went into her room, and fell before the Lord in her trouble, when He drew nigh and sweetly comforted her, reminding her of the promises he had given. She felt she could talk to him as a friend; and He said, “Did I not tell you I would be with you?” which brought relief to her mind. She could then leave her father in the Lord’s hand, and rested quietly till morning light, when she ascertained that her father had fled to a friend’s house, who had kindly cared for him, and he suffered no harm.

Mrs. Quincey’s friends much sympathized with her in this trial, and in answer to their united cries to the Lord, it pleased him to restore her father to health, when he left Northborough, and subsequently married again.

On December 10th, 1887, our friend’s afflicted husband was removed by death, and since then she has continued a widow. The Lord has supplied all her needs, which she frequently acknowledges with a grateful heart, it daily being her custom to repeat a psalm of praise to the Lord; feeling she has abundant cause to bless Him who has brought her through all her troubles, and blessed her with a comfortable assurance that it will be well with her when called to die. Her chief concern now is to walk tenderly in the fear of the Lord, with a grateful spirit, patiently waiting her appointed time till her change come.

New Cross.

S. B.

A Seasonable Exhortation

IS there anything whereof it may be said, “See, this is new? It hath been already of old time, which was before us.”

The custom of calling the first day of the year New Year’s day, dates probably from the Christian era, and substituted the period ordained by God on the eve of Israel coming out of Egypt, where we read: “This month shall be the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year to you.” And on the tenth day of that month the paschal lamb was eaten in the night when the Lord passed through the land of Egypt to cut off the firstborn in every house where the blood of the lamb was not sprinkled on the posts of the house. Moses wrote, “this is that night of the Lord to be observed of all the children of Israel in their generations.”

We suppose the Scotch, who do not observe religiously Christmas day, take their example of setting apart the first day of the year from the foregoing Jewish observance, although the periods are not identical. There is nothing new in time on the early morn of the first of January. It is simply an anniversary day of God’s appointment of “the lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night,” to be “for signs and for seasons, and for days and for years;” for the light of every day of the year is of the sun.

The division of time, ordained by God in infinite wisdom for the service of man, is nothing new, for it dates from the creation of the world. A thousand years in God’s sight “are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night.” But the commencement of another year is usually a time for new thoughts and new prayers. The scriptural poet, Joseph Hart, has some profitable admonitions in his excellent hymn. for the period, which reads:

“Once more the constant sun,

Revolving round his sphere,

His steady course has run,

And brings another year;

He rises, sets, but goes not back,

Nor ever quits his destined track.

“Hence let believers learn

To keep a forward pace;

Pe this our main concern,

To finish well our race:

Backsliding shun; with patience press

Towards the sun of righteousness.

“What now shall be our task?

Or rather, what our prayer?

What good thing shall we ask,

To prosper this new year?

With one accord our hearts we’ll lift,

And ask our Lord some new year’s gift.

“No trifling gift, or small,

Should friends of Christ desire;

Rich Lord bestow on all

Pure gold well tried by fire;

Faith that stands fast when devils roar,

And love that lasts for evermore.”

To add to the words of the immortal hymn writer would be like striking a match to give light on a sunny day; and to alter or take from it would not be honest. But a brief comment on the points of his hymn may not be unseasonable.

(1st.) It is more or less the desire of every earnest soul “to keep a forward pace,” emulated by the Apostle Paul, who, although favored with an assurance of his interest in Christ, says, “Brethren I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” So doing is “to keep a forward pace,” thus running the race set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of faith.

(2nd.) “Backsliding shun,” for the backslider in heart shall be filled with his own ways. He that goes back loses ground, and opens his heart to the god of this world. As one who turns his back on the sun has a shadow before him, so he that turns his back on Christ is following a shadow. He sows, too, what he will afterward reap to his sorrow.

(3rd.) “Rather what our prayer.” Our cry, our petition, the main desire in our prayer; which in Bible language may be expressed, “Give ear to my prayer, O God.” “Hear the voice of my supplication.” “Hear say voice, O God, in my prayer.” What, then, should be our prayer? The hymn says, ask for

(4th.) “Faith that stands fast;” by which grace “the elders obtained a good report;” and without it, it is impossible to please God. “For he that cometh to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him.” Faith is compared to a shield, and in this skeptical age it is greatly needed. The word of God is today held up as a butt for men to shoot their poisonous arrows at. We cannot mare when avowed infidels do so, but when a dean of the protestant church of England says: “Our whole conception of the inspiration of the Bible has been altered. A great deal which our forefathers took literally, we cannot take literally today; we may well tremble for our nation.” He went on to say (referring to some of the historical facts of the Bible of a miraculous character), “these and many other stories of the talking serpent and the talking ass we do not take now, or, at Any rate most of us I do not as literal statements of historical facts, but as imagery which clothes certain, spiritual lessons.”

Practically, such poisonous teaching is giving a lie to the word of God, and denouncing the godly forefathers as fools. Faith alone can shield us from such pernicious carnal reasoners. Luther says, “When faith comes it knocks out the brains of carnal reason.” Man in his ignorance of God does not know that it is “through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.” Faith accepts the miraculous power of God, and believes that He spoke and the works were done, He commanded and they stood fast.

Carnal reason looks upon the things which are seen, the material earth, and tries to explain through their medium how they were evolved, as it is called by men who advocate the doctrine of evolution professed by Darwin. Such researches commonly carry men into infidelity. Faith takes a far nobler course. She believes. God the Creator of all, and that by “the word of the Lord were the heavens made, and all the host of them by the breath of His mouth;” thereby extolling His infinite power and Godhead, His omnipotence and eternal glory. Faith believes that God is, that His ways are past finding out, and beholds Him through the person of His beloved Son. “Every spirit that confesseth that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God. And every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God: and this is that spirit of antichrist, whereof ye have heard that it should come: and even now already is it in the world.” The spirit that attacks the word of God is antichrist. When some asked our blessed Lord what they might do to work the works of God, the Lord replied, “This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom he hath sent.” Mr. Hart puts this into verse thus:

“Let us resolutely strive

To work God’s work with full intent;

And what is it? To believe

On Him whom He hath sent.”

By believing on Christ Jesus we obey the gospel. Every living cry and waiting on Him is an act of faith. The more we believe on Him, the more we see His suitability to answer our every need; and by the various. dealings of God’s grace and providence towards us faith is strengthened thereby in the exercise.

May the reader have grace, may the writer have grace, to adopt the admonition of the hymn before quoted,

“Be this our main concern,

To finish well our race.”

S. B.

"Sit Still."

WERE it possible for our forefathers to arise from their graves and appear a second time on the earth, one thing would be very apparent to them, that the present day is one of rapid motion, especially in traveling and the conveyance of information.

But although we move almost in everything much quicker than the generation now in their graves, there is no faster way to heaven than the old beaten path trod by godly ancestors.

Hurry and haste is not commonly attendant upon godliness, but rather a gracious stillness, for saith the wise man, “The race is not to the swift.”

Conversing with a friend a short time ago, a remark dropped from her lips suggesting to us three aspects of stillness: Sit still; Stand still; Be still. Each of them being a Bible command, we purpose considering them in the order already named in three separate articles.

The first injunction, and the subject of this article, is, “Sit still;” which is opposed to the haste which many in the present day practice to make themselves Christians, by putting on a profession of religion.

The prophet Jeremiah had as clear a call as is possible for anyone to have, for the word of the Lord came to him, as recorded in the first chapter, telling him that from even before his birth God had set him apart (that is, in His purpose) to be a prophet to the nations.

This same prophet declares: “It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord. It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth. He sitteth alone and keepeth silence, because he hath borne it upon him. He putteth his mouth in the dust; if so be there may be hope.” In substance, this position is one of a convert who has become as a little child that he might enter the kingdom of Heaven.

The prophet Isaiah pronounces a “Woe to the rebellious children, saith the Lord, that take counsel, but not of Me: and that cover with a covering, but not of my spirit, that they may add sin to sin. That walk to go down into Egypt, and have not asked at my mouth: to strengthen themselves in the strength of Pharaoh, and to trust in the shadow of Egypt.” Assuming his word is not heeded, the prophet declares that the Egyptians shall not profit them, and concludes his warning: “For the Egyptians shall help in vain, and to no purpose: therefore have I cried concerning this, Their strength is to sit still.”

The prophecy continues, and what was further written the Lord instructed the prophet to write on a table and note it in a book, that it may be for the time to come forever and ever, that the people to whom he prophesied were a rebellious people, lying children, that will not hear the law of the Lord; “which say to the seers, See not; and to the prophets, Prophesy not unto us right things, speak unto us smooth things, prophesy deceits: get you out of the way, turn aside out of the path, cause the Holy One of Israel to cease from before us.”

But the prophet shows the judgments which must follow in the path of this rebellion, and again takes up the same ground of strength in sitting still, by saying, “Thus saith the Lord, the Holy One of Israel; In returning and rest shall ye be saved; in quietness and confidence shall be your strength.”

But No, is yet the language of the people. “We will flee upon horses, we will ride upon the swift.” “Therefore shall they that pursue be swift, till ye are left as a beacon upon the top of a mountain, and as an ensign on a hill.”

But then follows a most gracious declaration: “And therefore will the Lord wait, that He may be gracious unto you, and therefore will He be exalted, that He may have mercy upon you: for the Lord is a God of judgment: blessed are all they that wait for him.”

In Ruth the Moabitish damsel, we have a type of one who, being called out from her people, seeks rest with the children of God. She goes forth to glean in the fields of Boaz, and finds favor in his eyes, and by Naomi’s counsel she approaches him in the threshing floor, which in her case was neither unlawful nor immodest. Having met with encouragement, she was further encouraged by her mother-in-law as follows: “Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the matter will fall: for the man will not be in rest, until he have finished the thing this day.” And she, like all real seekers and patient waiters for Jesus Christ, became the bride of Boaz who typified Him.

To sit still does not imply doing nothing. It is an anxious active grace of waiting at the Lord’s feet, attended with prayer and watchfulness, waiting for the Lord to speak by His word, in the ministry, or any other means of grace.

This posture before God will be attended with fear and trembling, especially if the time of waiting be long; but the longer a soul sits still for God, the more readily will he move towards Him when the cheering news comes: “Arise, he calleth thee.”

“Blessed is the man,

O That patient waits for Thee;

Who waits for thy salvation,

Lord, Shall Thy salvation see.”

New Cross.

S. B.

Someone

SOMEONE helped a poor woman and her basket across the street, and thus made her burden lighter. Someone gave a kindly word of counsel to a youth beginning life, which encouraged him through many times of difficulty in after years.

Someone sent two hundredweight of coals to a poor cottage one cold day, and sent the children to bed warm.

Someone invited a young man to the house of God one Lord’s day evening, found him a seat, shared a Bible and hymn book, made him welcome, and prayed for a blessing upon him. That young man now invites others to share the blessings that God has made His own, through rich grace.

Someone handed a tract to a young woman, in the hope that God would bless it. She is now the wife of a minister of the gospel, and invites other young women to hear the sweet invitations of the gospel from her husband’s lips.

Someone tried to be kind to the children, to smile on them, to talk to them in words suited to their age. They are now no longer children, have children of their own, and smile on hundreds more. They have not to lament empty pews and a deserted schoolroom, but rejoice in the increase and prosperity of Zion.

Someone attended the prayer meeting when many were absent, and said it ought not to be quite given up. That prayer meeting is now well attended, and God has been pleased to come down in showers of rich blessing.

Someone prayed for the minister when he was discouraged and weary. His Lord sweetly helped and upheld him, and then honored his testimony to the joy and fruitfulness of many precious souls.

Dear reader, who was Someone? Was it you?

JONATHAN JONES.

"Stand Still,"

OUR chapter last month treated on the injunction “Sit still”; which we observed is a position becoming one who is waiting for the Lord.

When Israel were in Egypt as bondsmen for two hundred and fifteen years, although they had to labor under cruel taskmasters, they were in respect to the Lord’s mind sitting still for His deliverance; but “their cry came up unto God.” “And God heard their groaning, and God remembered His covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. And God looked upon the children of Israel, and God had respect unto them.”

Moses, their future deliverer, is keeping watch over a flock of sheep belonging to Jethro his father-in-law, when “the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush,” which although burning was not consumed. Moses was about to turn aside to see this great sight, when the Lord called unto him out of the midst of the bush by hi name, and warned him not to draw nigh, for the place whereon he stood was holy ground. Moses hid his face, but the Lord said, “I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I knoll their sorrows; and I am come down to deliver them.” And God confirmed it by declaring His name, “I AM THAT I AM,” saying, “Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, The Lord God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, hath sent me unto you: this is my name forever, and this is my memorial unto all generations.”

The Lord however assured Moses that the king of Egypt would not let Israel go, “no, not by a mighty hand”; but “I will stretch out my hand, and smite Egypt with all my wonders which I will do in thy midst thereof; and after that he will let you go.” And God did as He had said. He plagued the Egyptians with sore plagues and judgments, and finally cut off all the firstborn of every household, from the king to the peasant, and also all the firstborn of cattle; which produced such a cry in Egypt that the Egyptians became urgent for the Israelites to depart. They went forth with all their children, and their cattle, and a mixed multitude went also with them.

The eating of the lamb and the sprinkling of its blood on the two side-posts, and on the upper doorpost of the houses where the lamb was eaten, saved the children of Israel from the destroying angel; and it became a night to be much observed unto the Lord for bringing them out of the land of Egypt.

“And it came to pass, when Pharaoh had let the people go, that God led them not through the way of the land of the Philistines, although that was near; for God said, Lest peradventure the people repent when they see war, and they return to Egypt.” But they took their journey towards the wilderness and the Red Sea; and the Lord went before them by day in a pillar of a cloud, to lead them in the way; and by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light; to go by day and night.

By the Lord withdrawing His restraint from Pharaoh, his heart became hardened; and knowing that the wilderness had shut the children of Israel in, he made ready his chariots to the number of six hundred, and pursued after them and overtook them encamping by the sea.

“And when Pharaoh drew nigh, the children of Israel lifted up their eyes, and, behold, the Egyptians marched after them; and they were sore afraid; and the children of Israel cried out unto the Lord.” But they murmured against Moses, and wished themselves back into Egypt; whereupon Moses said, “Fear ye not; stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord which he will show to you to-day; for the Egyptians whom ye have seen to-day, ye shall see them again no more forever. The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.”

The Lord went before them as a man of war, dividing the sea, that it became a wall on either side, while the people passed over. The Egyptians assayed to follow them, but were overthrown by the mighty waters returning upon them, so that not one of them escaped. The Lord blew with His wind, the sea covered them, they sank as lead in the depths of the sea. Hence Miriam sang: “Sing ye to the Lord, for He hath triumphed gloriously; the horse and his rider hath He thrown into the sea.”

Some generations after this wonderful deliverance, when the children of Israel were settled in the promised land, they were brought into trouble by reason of a great multitude which invaded their land. Jehoshaphat, who was then king, set himself to seek the Lord, and proclaimed a fast throughout all Judah, and in his prayer uttered these pathetic words, “O our God, wilt thou not judge them? for we have no might against this great company that cometh against us; neither know we what to do: but our eyes are unto Thee.”

Whereupon the Spirit of God came on Jahaziel, and bid them not to fear, saying, “The battle is not yours, but God’s. Ye shall not need to fight in this battle: set yourselves, stand ye still, and see the salvation of the Lord with you, O Judah and Jerusalem: fear not, nor be dismayed.”

So certain were they of victory that they went forth to meet their enemies with singing and praising the Lord, “for His mercy endureth forever.” And when they began to sing and to praise, the Lord set ambushments against the children of Ammon, Moab, and mount Seir, which were come against Judah: and they were smitten by each one helping to destroy the other, without the hand of Judah touching them; so that when Judah came toward the watch-tower in the wilderness, they looked unto the multitude, and, behold, they were dead bodies fallen to the earth, and none escaped.

These two historical instances recorded in the Word of God remain as memorials of God’s deliverances in time of trouble, and on each occasion were the people of God commanded to stand still, while the Lord of hosts did wondrously. What was written aforetime is for our learning and encouragement. To stand still in time of trouble and danger is not easy; but many of the people of God have proved that by so doing the Lord has carried them safely through to His honor and glory, and wrought wondrously for them.

New Cross.

S. B.

A Thrilling Picture

In perusing the early history of the Church, there is nothing that more forcibly arrests the attention and appalls the mind than the terrible sufferings which the early Christians endured, and over which they triumphed. Let us for a moment contemplate them.

Go with me to the province of Bithynia. Its cities and villages are thronged with Christians. Every day witnesses their increase, and the temples of the Roman gods are abandoned. Pliny is the governor of that province. An edict comes from the emperor of Rome, demanding that Christianity be exterminated; that those who will not renounce it, who will not revile Christ and adore the heathen gods, be put, first to torture, and then to death. It is a command from Rome; an appalling power is raised to enforce it. It makes the blood run cold to imagine the conflict now to ensue: a conflict between the power of bodily agony and the stability of regenerated hearts. A few of the timid and half-converted shrink from the terrible ordeal, and renounce the Saviour. The rest nerve themselves to endurance; they fast and pray, and pray and fast. They call upon Christ for help; they try to encourage one another, and look forward to the hour of trial with trembling heart, for fear they should not be able to sustain the burden they are called to bear.

Go into the hall of judgment and witness the scene there. It is morning. Pliny is seated to judge and condemn. Ferocious Roman soldiers drag into the hall a Christian family. A father and mother, with their son and daughter, compose the trembling group.

The hour of trial is come.

‘Are you a Christian?’ says Pliny to the father.

‘I am!’

‘Will you revile Christ, and worship the gods?’

‘No!’

‘Apply the instrument.’

Bone after bone breaks beneath the dreadful wheel.

‘Will you renounce Christ?’

‘No!’ groans out the agonized Christian.

The glowing pincers are applied, and nerve after nerve is lacerated, till the whole frame is a mangled mass quivering with agony.

‘Will you renounce Christ?’

‘No’ feebly exclaims the exhausted sufferer.

‘Take him to his death.’

And, as the father is hurried to the yard to be beheaded, he turns his languid eyes to his fainting family, and says, ‘They that endure to the end shall be saved.’ He forgets himself and his own agony in his solicitude for his wife and children; and as the ax falls upon his neck, his lips are moving in prayer that they may be sustained.

And now the mother stands before the judge! And how will woman’s nerves endure this trial? The mother’s heart is a tempest of anguish for the trembling daughter at her side. And as the wheel crushes her limbs, and the flesh is torn from her bones, her only cry is, ‘O God of mercy, help my children!’

The soldiers, maddened with rage, drag her rudely in block, and the next moment her headless trunk was by the side of that of her husband. And now the daughter takes her stand; trembling, ting, praying, she clings to her Saviour. But as wheel performs its dreadful work, and the pincers her youthful limbs, one dreadful shriek pierces every ear, and a frantic cry of the renunciation of Christ escapes her lips.

But the cry was but the delirium of her agony. For ere the torturers have time to stop their work, she renounces her renunciation. She cries for forgiveness. She clings to her Saviour, and, in contrition for her momentary and almost unconscious denial, forgets her pain, and terrifies her executioners by the calm, the unearthly determination with which she invites them to finish their work. They do finish it terribly they finish it; and the sound of the beheading ax upon the block has not died away, before this family of martyrs are reunited in their Saviour’s arms.

The Tower and Its Prisoners

PASSING under a low and massive doorway, we find in front of us a dark narrow staircase built in the thick stone wall. Groping up the stairs, we enter a large dimly-lighted room, the walls and ceiling of which are stone. After a time one’s eyes get accustomed to the gloom, and on making a close inspection of the room our attention is called to curious marks and carvings on the stone walls.

Some of them are so rough as to be illegible, and it is impossible to make anything of them, while others are really beautiful carvings, which must have required much time and patience.

Many of these carvings are dated, some of them reaching back for nearly five hundred years, the earliest legible date being 1462, while the latest is 1794. A glance round the room shows us that some are very simple, consisting of but one name, while others are very elaborate.

For instance, there is the name JANE standing alone, but close to it is a carving consisting of no fewer than one hundred and sixteen words, and another is a coat of arms most elaborately done with a wreath of flowers round it.

And now for the Carvers. The room is the old State prison in the Tower of London, and the carvings are the handiwork of the prisoners poor wretches who were immured in this dark and comfortless room, some of them for well-nigh the whole of their lives, and many until they were led out to a cruel death at Tyburn or on Tower Hill.

How terribly the dreariness of their confinement preyed upon them is shown by a touching inscription which runs thus: “Close prisoner, 8 months, 32 weeks, 224 days, 5,376 hours.”

What a pitiful sight that one word JANE is, for it was carved by the husband of that unfortunate girl, Lady Jane Gray, who wore the crown of England for eleven days, and, after being imprisoned in this room for a year, was led down the narrow staircase, and was beheaded just outside the prison door.

There are no fewer than ninety-one carvings, each one of which is a separate record of the misery and despair of some poor victim of tyranny, who knew only too well that justice was an unknown thing.

As we leave that terribly sad room, and stand again in the fresh air and sunshine, we realize as never before that the greatest blessing in this life is the time in which we live.

Only think of that room, and of the heartbreaking sighs, the bitter tears, the overwhelming despair that its walls have enclosed and then think of the days in which we live, days in which rich and poor, prince and peasant enjoy alike full justice.

At once our hearts are filled with deep thanksgiving, and we praise God for the liberties that we now enjoy.

O. WALTON.

A True Christian

BY JOSEPH HART.

A PRAYERLESS spirit is not the spirit of Christ. Prayer to a Christian is as necessary as food to a natural man. The usual way of going to heaven is through much tribulation; the sinner who is drawn to Christ is not he that has learned that he is a sinner by head knowledge, but that feels himself such by heart contrition. He that believeth hath an unction from the Holy One; a true Christian is as vitally united to Christ as my hand or foot to my body, consequently suffers and rejoices with Him. Where there is true faith, there will be obedience and the fear of God; he that lives by the faith of the Son of God, eateth His flesh and drinketh His blood. He that hath the Son hath life, he that hath not the Son of God hath not life. Christians are sealed by the Holy Ghost to the day of redemption; and to this seal they trust their eternal welfare, not to naked knowledge, or speculative notions though ever so deep.

Try the Spirits

AFTER the close of the Crimean war, our government, in the name of our late beloved Queen Victoria, appointed a day of national thanksgiving and rejoicing to celebrate peace. We remember going with our late brother on the morning of the national holiday to hear Mr. John Kershaw preach at Zoar Chapel, Great Alie Street, London. His text was, “the Prince of peace,” a very suitable word to set forth Him who in the fullness of time came into the world, heralded by the sudden appearance of a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

A skeptic might say, if the Christ of God came to send peace on earth, how is it that there has been perhaps more blood shed, and more strife and contention through religion and professing Christianity than in any other profession in the world? We answer that to profess to be Christians and to be Christians are two distinct things. There are multitudes call themselves Christians by professing Christianity, who in their life, walk, and conversation bear no resemblance to Him whose name they own. They may call Him Lord, Lord; but if they do not the things which He saith, they are none of His.

Jesus Christ, the Prince of peace, never taught men to hate one another, but rather that love should be the golden rule of their life, “for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God and knoweth God.” Therefore saith our blessed Lord to His disciples, and through them to those who believe in Him through their word: “This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you.” And the evidence of being a disciple of Christ is thus given by Him: “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.”

Further scriptural proof might be given concerning love being an exercise becoming all who profess faith in Jesus Christ, but it seems unnecessary to multiply evidences of what is so clearly revealed as a Christian duty to walk in, even towards such as we might regard as our enemies. Our Lord says in His sermon on the mount: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you; that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven.”

That this grace of love was walked in by the early Christian churches is evident. The Apostle Paul, in writing to the Colossians, gave thanks to God for their faith in the Lord Jesus, and for their love which they had to all saints. He also commends the Thessalonians as follows: “Remembering without ceasing your work of faith, and labor of love, and patience of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ, in the sight of God and our Father.” Further evidence might be given from the other epistles that the saints in early days manifested this grace of love towards each other, and were thus distinguished from “the children of the devil.”

Nearly two thousand years have passed away since this message of love “from the beginning” was given; and the lapse of time has not diminished its force as a gracious command. We therefore do well to examine ourselves by this true test of discipleship.

If the love of God has been shed abroad in our hearts, it has been exercised towards our fellow men, and especially towards those who bear Christ’s image to whom we are united. Such unity existed in the days of old, hence we read: “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron’s beard: that went down to the skirts of his garments. As the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion: for there the Lord commanded blessing, even life for evermore.”

We remember the time when the love of God was first shed abroad in our own soul. We possessed the grace in measure before that time, but on that occasion it endeared the people of God to us in a way not previously felt. We then

“Loved the Lord with mind and heart,

His people and His ways.”

Love is not a grace that dies; but it may decay. One of the signs of the last days is given that, because iniquity abounds, the love many waxes cold. The Psalmist prayed to be delivered from the strife of tongues. Where strife and contention through party spirits exists, professedly to defend what men call truth, “Mr. God’s-peace,” as Bunyan terms him, will lay down his commission, and ceases to act. Contention proceeds from pride and self-conceit, as saith the proverb: “Only by pride cometh contention.” Where it exists among brethren in the Lord, the Holy Spirit is grieved, and the devil is gratified. Hence says the word: “Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and evil-speaking, be put away from you, with all malice; and be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.”

We are told to “try the spirits.” If this were done, instead of contending about words and phrases, strife would be much avoided, and a man would not be made an offender for a word.

We will suppose the case of two ministers, one a believer in the doctrines of grace, and consistent in his life; the other, what is termed an Arminian, and does not manifest grace. Say they each in preaching quote “Repent ye, and believe the gospel;” or, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved”; or warn sinners to flee from the wrath to come. In the first case the minister of truth knows that none but the Lord can make the word effectual to its reception, but the word which he utters being right, he in a right spirit gives the exhortation, and leaves the result with the Lord.

But in the other supposed case, we presume the false teacher ignores the Sovereignty of God in the call of the gospel, and in quoting the self same scriptures believe it is in the power of the creature as to its being made effectual. His spirit therefore being wrong, he improperly uses the word of exhortation.

By such a hypothesis, we can heartily approve the writings of the godly Puritans, or the sermons of John Bunyan, Ralph Erskine, and others, who believed that the general declaration of the gospel is to be made to all men, according to the commission given by our blessed Lord: “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature”; which witnesses against men as well as for men.

To try the spirits is not to examine them by a doctrinal code put together by men. The apostle John gives the test thus; “Every spirit that confesseth that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God”; which confession separates from the world, erroneous teachers and mere nominal professors of the truth.

Further: it is a spirit which abides in Jesus Christ, and walks in the means of grace, which instrumentally maintains the abiding. “If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love; even as I have kept my Father’s commandments, and abide in His love.” “This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you. He that loveth me not keepeth not my sayings; but he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him.”

The Spirit of Christ is far removed from wrath, bitterness, and strife. Hence saith the apostle Peter; “Laying aside all malice, and all guile, and hypocrisies, and envies, and all evil speakings, as new-born babes, desire the sincere milk of the word that ye may grow thereby.” And what is this milk but the truth in love? And it is manifested by love to the brethren, which is given in the word of God as an evidence of having passed from death unto life. The apostle John, in his third epistle says: “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in the truth,” which is “to believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ, and love one another.”

“Of all that God bestows,

In earth, or heav’n above,

The best gift saint or angel knows,

Or e’er will know, is love.

“Love, all defects supplies,

Makes great obstructions small;

‘Tis prayer, ‘tis praise, ‘tis sacrifice;

‘Tis holiness; ‘tis all.

“Descend, celestial Dove,

With Jesu’s flock abide;

Give us that best of blessings, love;

Whate’er we want beside.”

New Cross, April 17th. S. B.

The Two Builders

OH, how simple is the story

Simple, yet divinely grand

Of the wise and foolish builders

On the rock and on the sand.

‘Twas with this that Christ concluded

His discourse upon the mount,

Saints may sing and sinners tremble

As they read the short account.

He who hears the words of Jesus,

And obeys by grace divine,

Builds where neither flood nor tempest

Can destroy or undermine.

‘Tis on Christ, the Rock of ages,

That this house securely stands,

Jesus is his sure foundation,

Laid by God the Father’s hands.

But the man who hears the Gospel

Only with the outward ear,

Foolishly and blindly ventures

On the sand a house to rear.

Worldly honours, wealth, and pleasures,

Lifeless works and empty forms,

Many on these sands are building,

Thinking not of coming storms.

Now the sky is draped in darkness,

And the rain and stormy blast

Beat against each house in fury,

While the floods are rising fast.

Earth and hell may raise a tempest

Round the house upon the Rock,

But in vain: its sure foundation

Holds it firm against the shock.

But the other habitation

Lies in ruins on the sand,

For the storm of God’s displeasure

Shook it, and it could not stand.

If we build on Ought but Jesus,

Terrible must be our fall;

May Jehovah give us wisdom

On the rock to fix our all!

Wllingborough. THEODORA.

Value of the Scriptures

O CHILD of sorrow, be it thine to know

That Scripture only is the cure of woe!

That field of promise, how it flings abroad

Its perfume o’er the Christian’s thorny road;

The soul, reposing on assured belief,

Feels herself happy amidst all her grief;

Forgets her labor as she toils along

Weeps tears of joy, and bursts into a song!

COWPER.

A Very Solemn Incident

Dear MR. WILEMAN, I am now able to give the following particulars of the matter I named to you in the Old Baptist Chapel a short time ago.

Two young men visited the village of Netheravon, Wiltshire, in the spring of last year, 1904, to carry out some work at a house. One of them spoke to the householder, Mr. ISAAC CARTER, respecting the dullness of the village, and inquired if there was not some sort of theater. To which Mr. CARTER replied, “Have you not seen the notice put up in the entrance of a theater?” “Yes,” he answered: “it says ‘To THE PIT.’” Mr. CARTER then said, “And do you not think the notice significant of what such like places lead to?” This only amused the young man; and that evening he said laughed with his companions at what “Old Carter” had said.

That week end these two young men went to their home at Bournemouth. After a few days, one of them only returned to complete the work, and said to Mr. CARTER, “You remember speaking to my chum about the notice in theaters ‘TO THE PIT.’” He and I slept together on Saturday night last: and on awaking on Sunday morning, he said, “I shall get up now, and go and have a bath at Five Hatches. He went; and in a pool there, known as The Pit, he sank, and was drowned. His body was dragged for, and recovered.”

The young man was greatly impressed by the occurrence, and said he was sure that he would not forget it as long as he lived.

With Christian love, Yours sincerely, E. G. STRONG.

14, Market Place, Devizes, February 16th.

A Visit to Clinton

A DRY frosty morning on the 26th December, 19o4, made a four-mile walk from Market Deeping to Glinton, a pleasant and healthy exercise. The hedgerows, whitened with frost crystals, reflected the skill of Him who questioned Job concerning the “hoary frost of heaven; who hath gendered it”? Sheep, clad in their thick woolen overcoats, were peacefully grazing on the frosted herbage. A plowman was taking advantage of a favorable morning to prepare a good tilth for the spring corn. The autumn-sown wheat was showing its drills above ground, reminding us of “first the blade,” the infancy of its life. The trees, stripped of their foliage, revealed their limbs, branches, and twigs, budded for the return of spring to expand into leaf and flower. Each field had a feature more or less interesting, speaking the fact, that the country has a voice in the winter as well as in the summer. The latter with its charms rises into the lofty strains, whereas the former sinks into the lower notes, deepened in tone, but indispensable to give melody to the voice of all God’s works, which praise Him from the least of them to the greatest.

The main object, however, of our morning walk to Glinton, was not to descant upon creation, but to visit an afflicted friend, one of God’s jewels, whom we found on the ground floor of an old thatched building, invalided in bed, where for the past five years she has been more or less confined through an affliction of the spine, quite unable to raise herself, or stand upon her feet when lifted out of bed. The first month of the attack from which she now suffers, was ushered in with unconsciousness, during which time she was kept alive by passing liquid food through her nasal passage.

After exchanging a few words of greeting and some reference to her family, she remarked in substance, that her path of sorrow was attended with soul profit, for it gave her the cry unto the Lord. Her affliction certainly is not joyous, and sometimes seems more than she can bear, and then she is tempted to rebel against God; but there are seasons when the word of God yields her comfort and support, and she can lie passive in the Lord’s hands with sweetness. She contrasted her case with some of God’s people who are less tried, in the language of Mr. Hart:

“How hard and rugged is the way

To some poor pilgrims’ feet;

In all they do, or think, or say,

They opposition meet.

Others again more smoothly go,

Secured from hurts and harms;

Their Saviour leads them gently through,

Or bears them in his arms.”

Her countenance is by no means sorrowful, but evidences that she was once a very cheerful, active person; and notwithstanding that she is now confined to her bed or her room, she takes as much interest in control of her household as is possible for her in her circumstances to do. She told us that when a child she felt enmity in her heart against religion, and when Mr. Burch of Cranbrook used to visit her father, Mr. Clifford, who was also a minister, she would show such dislike to him, that he discerned it, and gently reproved her on one occasion.

Before taking our leave of her, we read and commented on Psalm 27, and engaged in prayer, which we believe was as a cup of cold water to her, for she remarked how refreshing it had been.

Her husband, Mr. W. Pridmore, accompanied us on our return journey for about a mile; and referring to his trials during the past year, related two instances wherein he had seen the Lord’s goodness. The first had reference to three acres of mustard which was springing up early in the season. Walking over it one day, he felt a spirit of prayer come upon him, that the Lord would cause it to grow even as we read in the Bible, that the birds of the air might lodge in its branches; and he said it was remarkable how it afterward grew and flourished, so much so, that his neighbors remarked upon the luxuriance of the crop. The other instance he related referred to an anxious time he had in the spring, waiting for an opportunity to sow a field with peas. At length there came a day or two of dry weather, when he got the seed in as best he could. To his surprise it came up well, and bid fair for an abundant crop; but about the flowering time a blight came, which seemed likely to blast the crop. But he saw God’s goodness, for the insects only attacked it in patches, and when harvesting time came he had a very fair crop.

We were pleased to hear him speak of God’s goodness, and the lessons we gathered that morning were not without interest and instruction. It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting. God’s afflicted people are his witnesses, and testify to the truth of his word: “I will also leave in the midst of thee an afflicted and poor people, and they shall trust in the name of the Lord.”

“The rod and reproof give wisdom,” not only to the one who smarts under it, but is the voice of wisdom to others; as saith good Brooks: “When the Lord smites another, He warns thee.”

“Although affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the ground; yet man is born unto trouble as the sparks fly upward.” Therefore the Apostle Peter says, “Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try your as though some strange thing happened unto you.”

And the epistle by James bids us to count it all joy when we fall into trials. Mr. Hart gives one good reason for affliction thus:

“Afflictions make us see

What else would ‘scape our sight;

How very foul and dim are we,

And God how pure and bright.”

John Newton on the same subject speaks as for the Lord:

“These inward trials I employ,

From self and pride to set thee free;

And blast thy schemes of earthly joy,

That thou mayest seek thy all in me.”

The night of affliction in this world will be succeeded by the eternal day of happiness hereafter. This will be the portion of all God’s jewels. Will it be your portion, dear reader?

New Cross.

S. B.

A Visit to Oakington

Had we regarded the clouds which threatened rain at Cambridge on August i8th, 1905, we should have missed a pleasant walk we took on the afternoon of that day from the University City to Oakington.

The country around Cambridge is very flat, consequently the scenery is not attractive; but on reaching Oakington we noticed that the village was not lacking picturesqueness. One object we had in view in going to Oakington was to visit a friend, who, after we had partaken tea, kindly took us to see the Baptist Chapel, which is a very neat and well-fitted building.

But what more particularly interested us in our walk through the village was a visit we made in company with our friend to a private garden, well cultivated with flowers and fruit, in the center of which there are three graves, each surmounted by a square tomb about five feet high, inscribed with the names of three eminent Nonconformist ministers, who were buried beneath the enclosure of the iron rails which surround the monuments.

Two of these worthy men here interred lived during the time when unjust Acts of Parliament forced many godly ministers out of the Church of England because they would not conform to an anti-christian and antibiblical prayer book. These two noble champions for the truth suffered imprisonment rather than defile their consciences by obeying a wicked act of the state, which required every clergyman to swear his hearty “assent and consent to all and everything contained and prescribed in and by the book entitled the book of common prayer,” on pain of ejectment from his living; and because these good men could not, and would not, against their conscience declare their unfeigned assent and consent to a book which contained baptismal regeneration, priestly absolution, do., and thus maintain some of the most fatal errors of popery, they were forced from their pulpits, their livings, and spheres of usefulness.

Subsequent to the passing of the Act under which these men suffered, the “Conventicle Act” was passed which affected the laity, inasmuch as it prohibited meetings in numbers above five for any religious exercise whatever “in other manner than as allowed by the Liturgy or Practice of the Church of England.” This act proved a terrible scourge. Under it the Nonconformists were kept in constant terror, so that many were afraid to pray in their families if above four of their acquaintance, who me only to visit them, were present. Some families scrupled asking a blessing on their meat if five strangers were at table.

Francis Holcroft, M.A., sometime fellow of Clare Hall, Cambridge, was one of the three whose remains await the resurrection at this sacred spot. For preaching in the village of Oakington, in 1663, he was imprisoned nearly nine years in Cambridge Castle. A second bondage of three years soon followed. He died at Triplow, January 6th, 1692, and was buried at this spot. On his tomb is inscribed the following expressive word: “They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars forever and ever.”

It is recorded of this good man that during his long imprisonment, by the connivance of the jailer, he would make several stays out of prison all night to secretly preach the gospel and administer the sacrament. He departed this life uttering these words: “For I know that if the earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, I have a building, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.”

Next to the tomb of Mr. Holcroft is that of Mr. Joseph Oddy, who appears to have been his colleague. The inscription states he died May 3rd, 1687, and has the following text: “Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace.” This godly man was frequently imprisoned for preaching, on one occasion for five years; but as soon as he obtained his freedom he would preach again. He obtained a fellowship at Trinity College, Cambridge, and the degree of Master of Arts, but lost his fellowship and living for his adherence to the truth. He had an ardent love to the perishing souls of men, and was an earnest preacher, chiefly in the Fen district. While his faithful friend, Mr. Holcroft, was in prison, Mr. Oddy preached often with great success in the woods between Cottenham and Willingham, establishing a church in the latter place. He continued preaching the Gospel as an itinerant preacher till his death.

Mr. Oddy was a wit as well as a divine; but he was no trifler with the souls of men. Indeed, the suffering times in which these good men lived must have precluded much cheerfulness of spirit. It is said that a Cambridge man, looking at the emaciated body of this servant of God, thus accosted him:

“Good day, Mr. Oddy: pray, how fares your body?
Methinks you look damnably thin.”

This drew from Mr. Oddy at once the quaint, but forcible reply:

“That’s, sir, your mistake: ‘tis for righteousness sake;
Damnation’s the fruit of your sin.’”

On the third tomb is the following inscription:

“Here lyeth the body of MR. HY. OASLAND, Minister of the Gospel, Who, after 17 years’ faithful dispensation of the same, in the Church gathered in Willingham and Cottenham, ended this life Novr. the 19th, ANNO DOMINI 1711, in the 43rd year of his age.”

Little is known of his ancestry, but there is a strong presumptive proof that he was the son of Mr. Henry Oasland, of Worcestershire, a fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, who was ejected from his living on August 24th, 1662. It is said of him that when the soldiers came to take him for Packington’s plot he was reading a chapter to his family. His servant maid told him that a troop of horse stood at the door. He was advised to secure himself, which he did so artfully in his own house, that they could not find him: but, considering with himself, that being charged with high treason, though he was very innocent, his absconding would by many be reckoned an evidence of his guilt, he came forth from his hiding place, stood before the soldiers,. and asked them who it was they wanted. They answered, Mr. Oasland. “I am the man,” said he, “and am ready to answer to what any man has to say against me.” He spo with such a spirit as struck a visible terror into the men, who did not for some time speak to, nor offer to lay hold on him. As a preacher he excelled, and spoke with such boldness and resolution, that some called his discretion in question. He would often fix his eye upon some particular auditors with great earnestness, and with authority ask them, “Will you obey this word? or will you avoid this or that sin? O, do, for God’s sake, or for Christ’s sake;” which had so much influence upon some that they cried out in the congregation, “I will, sir! I will, sir!” If this was the spirit of his father, who lived and worked in the service of Christ, and died at the age of eighty, but eight years before his son, then it may fairly be believed, that bound together by the ties of affinity and persecution, the son would prove himself worthy of such a sire. Certain it is, by the inscription on the stone, that he preached seventeen years in the neighborhood of Oakington, and he, and the other two suffering servants of God, were buried in this spot about a stone’s throw from the church yard, presumably because, having dissented from the church, their remains were not permitted to be put into the so-called consecrated ground of the church yard.

It is stated that as recently as 1867 some of the relatives of Mr. Oasland were living, and could remember their grandsires and granddames rehearsing the tales of midnight meetings held in the hollow and copse, and anxious hearts waiting for the moon to rise ere the pastor could read of truth; of the constable, whose heart God had touched, and who shut his eyes when sent to take the children of God, and declared he never saw them; of hairbreadth escapes from the minions of the law; and of many a fervent prayer for the interposition of God’s own hand.

We may say that we stood on ground consecrated by fervent prayer, and on leaving the sacred spot felt we were bidding adieu, as it were, to the dust of Zion.

We are indebted to the kindness of Mr. Morris for a sight of the graves, and also the information concerning the three good men, which we have extracted from a pamphlet he kindly lent us containing a “Narrative of the proceedings at the Commemoration Festival held at Oakington, on Wednesday, July 24th, 1867,” to do honor to the memory of the three Nonconformist worthies whose ashes are buried in the garden before named.

S. B. New Cross.

Weary

WE are so weary, Lord, of all the strife,

The toil, and bustle of our daily life;

With weakness and with sin we are oppressed;

Both head and heart are longing for Thy rest.

Our feet are weary; they are often torn,

And sorely wounded by the pricking thorn;

While trifles quickly vex, and cause a sigh,

Which others smile at, or would pass them by.

We are so weary, Lord, we stumble so;

We cannot walk so well as others go;

The smallest stone will trip our trembling feet,

For they are aching with the dust and heat.

Yet we have heard those gracious welcome words,

“Come unto me, and rest”: Thou knowest, Lord,

This is the rest we crave ; but can it be

We are too weary even to come to Thee?

O touch our hearts again, then we shall spring

Upwards towards Thee, as on an eagle’s wing;

Weariness, weakness, all will pass away,

As darkness flees before returning day.

Take us, dear Lord, into thy loving arms,

That blessed hiding-place from all alarms;

Give us a sweet foretaste of future rest,

Then we can wait, and feel thy time is best.

That time will quickly come; a few short years

Shall end our sojourn in this vale of tears:

Guide our weak footsteps, till upon Thy breast

We find our long desired, our endless rest.

L. D.

What I Sometimes Think

BY JONATHAN JONES.

I sometimes think that the mistakes of a great man are a very poor excuse for the mistakes of the little man who tries to imitate him.

I have heard it stated that the average boy would rather pluck apples and blackberries before they are ripe than allow them to ripen for another boy to have them.

Are older children ever guilty of anything similar?

If we are to be of any use in public in the service of God, we must be much in preparation in private. The Lord Jesus Himself spent whole nights in prayer to His Father. David slew Goliath in public; but he had first to practice in private by slaying the lion and the bear when there were none present to admire.

Water will boil at a temperature of 212 degrees; but however fierce the fire, and however long the boiling, the water will never get any hotter than when it first boiled. So it answers no useful purpose to allow our anger to boil unduly. Mildness in reproof is more effectual than long severity. I was told by a gardener the other day that it would be very unwise to use boiling water when watering geraniums and other plants.

When to Be Silent

THE wise man tells us that there is “a time to keep silence, and a time to speak.” It is not always easy to know when to speak; and it is very difficult to know when to keep silence. But there are times when silence is clearly the right and only course, and some of these I now wish to name.

When God convinces a sinner of his sin, and shows him that in himself he is ruined and lost, then a man must be silent. “Now we know that what things so-ever the law saith, it saith to them who are under the law, that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God.” (Romans 3:19.) All must be brought here, either by grace in this life, or at the day of judgment.

When God sends trouble upon a man, the effect is to produce a holy silence. Thus David says: “I was dumb, I opened not my mouth; because Thou didst it.” (Psalm 39:9.) He was so troubled by his grief that he could not speak; and others since his day have trodden the same path.

When a man has enemies or false friends who speak wicked things against him, then he may very wisely be silent. This was the course pursued by David, and he himself tells us this: “They that seek my hurt speak mischievous things. But I, as a deaf man, heard not; and I was as a dumb man that openeth not his mouth.” (Psalm 38:13.) And again: “I said, I will take heed to my ways, that I sin not with my tongue: I will keep my mouth with a bridle, while the wicked is before me. I was dumb with silence, I held my peace, even from good.” (Psalm 39:1, 2.)

4. But the Lord Jesus Christ is in this our great Example. “And when He was accused of the chief priests and elders, he answered nothing.” When Pilate questioned Him, He “answered him to never a word; insomuch that the governor marveled greatly.” Then Pilate asked Him, “whence art thou?” But Jesus gave him no answer. The Lord stood unmoved amid all the scorn and shame. He was indeed the pattern for us. “He opened not His mouth; He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so He openeth not His mouth.”

5. It is also a time to keep silence when we are insulted. A worldly man may resent an injury; but a Christian never. He has a far better method. When Rabshakeh sent an insulting message to Hezekiah, he first instructed his messengers not to answer; and then went and spread the letter before the Lord. This is always a wise and a safe course of conduct. How much strife would be prevented, how much fighting spared, if we always adopted this course!

No doubt all public men, all servants of God, editors of magazines, preachers of the gospel, at times get communications that are likely to wound them. It would clearly be impossible to answer all of them. We have not the time. We are to be patient toward all men, and even go out of our way at times to reply to very unworthy letters; but we may not take any notice of some. We even receive letters which are no honor to the writers, and feel how easy it would be to reply and to crush the arguments used; but we have the Master’s example to follow. He was once silent before Pilate: one day Pilate will be silent before Him.

O how safe are they whose minds are kept in perfect peace, resting in Him! May I by grace be enabled to follow Him. “For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow His steps; who did no sin, neither was guile found in His mouth; who, when He was reviled, reviled not again; when He suffered, He threatened not; but committed Himself to Him that judgeth righteously.”

This kind of silence is also effective in silencing the unkindness or bitterness of others. “For so is the will of God, that with well-doing ye may put to silence (muzzle) the ignorance of foolish men.”

July 5th, 1905.

WILLIAM WILEMAN.

"Where Do the Clouds Come From?"

A SHARP shower made me seek the shelter of a friendly arch. But I was not the first to reach that shelter; two little boys were there before me. I said, “Do you know where all this rain comes from?” One of them replied, “From the clouds, Sir.” I then asked, “But where do the clouds come from?” This was beyond their reach; their philosophy had never led them to think of it. Then I tried to tell them of the wonderful power and wisdom of God in arranging the seasons and the weather; and how He draws up the moisture from the earth and the sea, and then rains it back again upon the earth.

It may be that the two boys will remember what I told them. But certainly in teaching them I was taught. The clouds by watering water themselves: teachers by teaching teach themselves. My mind was led to the question of Elihu (Job 37:16): “Dost thou know the balancings of the clouds, the wondrous works of Him which is perfect in knowledge?” By the action of the sun in forming the clouds a beautiful balance is maintained; so that when the clouds are fully formed, they empty themselves back again upon the earth. There is therefore neither more nor less water now in existence than when God first created it. It passes through many changes; yet the operations of God in creation preserve a regular balance.

Well; it is so in His providential dealings. They are full of change; but they are full of beauty. They never rest; but they manifest a perfection of wisdom and love. The same wisdom that balances the clouds also balances the events of my daily life. If I lack one blessing, I possess another. If one sorrow falls to my share, there are some which God has not sent to me. If I have an afflicted daughter, I have seven healthy children.

Another thought may grow out of Elihu’s question, Do not our prayers go up, as drawn by God’s gracious operation, to form clouds of blessing? We are kept in constant need, and thus feel a constant dependence upon God for all we feel to desire: this need is expressed in prayer. We are permitted by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, to make our requests known to God, though He knows them so fully. These petitions, if one may so speak, are rained down upon us again, full of blessings and goodness; and then these blessings rise again to God in gratitude, to make newer clouds of blessing for us.

And even those thick, dark, black clouds of trouble are “big with mercy, and shall break in blessing on our heads.” They are balanced. We expect sorrow; they are filled with joy. We see the darkness; they are lined with light. We fear the storm; it brings a rainbow. And God has told us (Genesis 9) that He never makes a rainbow without looking upon it! When, therefore, God photographs (literally) His covenant on a dark cloud in the form of a rainbow, and I see it there, His eye and my eye are both resting upon the same object at the same moment.

Well; I was glad to learn all this and more under the arch; and I now pass the lesson on to other eyes and hearts.

August 9th, 1905.

WILLIAM WILEMAN.

Willie Stuart

IN a small cottage, situated in a lonely Highland glen, lived a widow and her only son, a boy of ten years old. Willie Stuart scarcely remembered his father, who was lost in a snowstorm, leaving his family in great poverty; the neighbors, had, however, all been kind. The cottage was given at a merely nominal rent, and many a bit arid sup did they receive; but Nelly had an independent spirit, and exerted herself so as to be a burden to none, and to keep off the parish. This she effected by spinning, knitting, or doing any outdoor work that came in her way. By this means she not only preserved a respectable appearance, but even sent her boy to school for a few months. The widow herself was no scholar; she knew no book except the Bible, but few had studied that more, or could, with more simple faith, “take God at His word.” During the long winter nights, as she knit her stocking by the dim light of the peat fire, she would relate to Willie Old Testament stories, and in simple words impress upon him the duty of love to God, and being honest and true; and as the boy pursued his herding on the hill side, he learned a task a Psalm, or verses to be repeated the next Sabbath.

At last Widow Stuart fell ill, and she soon knew that the hand of death was upon her. “I am not afraid to die,” she said to Mr. Campbell, the gray-haired minister who had come to see her; “Jesus will be rod and staff in the dark valley; but, oh, my laddie,” she added, clasping her thin hands, “my poor bairn; what will become of him?” “Trust your child,” he replied, “to Him who has promised to be a father to the fatherless.” “True Sir; that is a precious word. Thank ye for minding me of it.” It was then settled that, after her death, Willie should be sent to a cousin in Edinburgh, who his mother hoped would help him. This arranged, Mr. Campbell kneeled, and committed the soul of the dying woman to the keeping of her God and Saviour, and prayed for the child so soon to be left an orphan. He had not long quitted the cottage, when Willie softly entered. He crept up to the bedside, gazed wistfully for a few minutes, then said, in a half-frightened voice, “Mammy, you’re awfu’ white.” The widow unclosed her eyes, and with difficulty drew him close to her. “My bairn,” she said, “you will soon be all you’re lane. You’ve aye been a gude laddie to me; but, oh! Willie, promise me no’ to forget to read the Bible when I am gone, and aye to keep the Sabbath, and to be honest and—” she could say no more; and a few hours after, a neighbor coming in, found her dead, and Willie in all the agonies of childish grief. As soon as the funeral was over, he was sent under the care of the carrier to Edinburgh. The cousin had a family of his own, and was by no means pleased to have another mouth to provide for. However, he said he might stay a few days till he saw what “turned up.” Unused as Willie was to companions, he shrunk back in terror from the scenes of quarreling, fighting, and scolding, which he now beheld; and great was his joy when, at the end of a week, he was sent to a nursery-garden. Here, again, was a new atmosphere. His companions were all idle and thoughtless, some worse.

It is a great trial to any young person, fresh from the country, to be thrown, without a guide, amidst the snares and temptations of a town; not that Satan is idle in the country, no we are told that he goeth about “everywhere.” With stealthy steps he penetrates the secluded valley and the lonely glen, and whispers evil thoughts into the ear of the shepherd on the mountain side, so many forms of evil, and scenes of vice, that, but for the restraining grace of God, who could stand?

At first, Willie trembled and blushed as he listened to the oaths and bad language of his associates; but, alas! it is a proof of the natural depravity of the heart, how soon habit reconciles us to things which at first revolted us; and thus, ere long, Willie thought it manly to imitate them. His mother’s Bible was covered with dust, he ceased to pray, and his Sabbaths were spent in idleness. At last, like the rest, he began to pilfer flowers and fruit, which were privately sold. Yet conscience was not dead; many a night did he sob himself to sleep, wishing he could awake in his mother’s cottage. Ah Willie is not the only one who has exclaimed, in bitterness of soul, “Would I were a child again.”

One fine autumn day, Miss Elliot accompanied a party to see the beautiful garden and grounds belonging to her friend, Mr. Gordon. Everything was in the best taste and in exquisite order. The hot-houses and conservatories were filled with the rarest and most beautiful plants, which the gardener, a middle-aged, respectable-looking man, seemed pleased to point out and explain. “You seem very fortunate in a gardener,” remarked Miss Elliott to her friend. “Yes, indeed; Stuart has been with me five years, and is not only perfect in his profession, but what I value more, he is a thoroughly good man, scrupulously honest, and takes suite a fatherly charge of the lads under him. By-the-bye,” he added, laughing, “I thought he must have been an old pupil of yours, he seemed so resolute that you should have the best flowers, a rare favor, I assure you.”

In the evening, as the party were returning from a walk, Miss Elliot lingered to admire the sun setting behind the hills. She was leaning against the railing of a rustic bridge, which was thrown across a rapid mountain stream, when suddenly it gave way, and she fell into the water beneath, which at that part was rather deep. Before her friends, who were at a short distance, could reach the spot, the gardener, who had witnessed the accident, had jumped in, and with some difficulty rescued her from her perilous situation. Proper remedies being applied, Miss Elliot fortunately sustained no injury but fright. Before going home, she expressed her wish to see and thank Stuart. Mr. Gordon sent for him; and, upon his entrance, she held out her hand, and feelingly expressed her gratitude to him for having been the instrument, in God’s hand, of saving her life. For a few moments he was silent; then he said, with a voice of deep emotion, “To you, madam, I owe more than life the safety of my immortal soul!” “Surely you are mistaken; I never saw you before,” she replied. “I am not surprised that you do not remember me, for I was a dirty, ragged urchin in those days, but I knew your voice as soon as I heard it. Do you remember, some fifteen years since, a boy coming to your house one morning with plants?” “Perfectly,” answered Miss Elliot; “and I have very often wished to know what became of that child, but surely” — “Yes,” said Stuart, “I was that boy.” Then, seeing, his master look surprised, he turned to him, and continued, “One morning, Sir, I was sent to that lady with some plants; the servant took me into the drawing-room, and desired me to wait for her return, which would be in a few minutes. Upon the table was a ring. which had apparently just been used to seal a letter. I took it up to look at; but a voice seemed to whisper, ‘No one will see,’ and I slipped it into my pocket. Scarcely had I done so, when Miss Elliot returned. I saw her glance at the table, then at me. I must have looked guilty, for she came directly to me, and in a firm, though kind manner, said she knew she had left a ring upon the table five minutes before, and that I must have taken it. I could not deny the fact, and with many tears entreated forgiveness. Oh, Sir! how kindly did she speak to me; she showed me that I was offending both God and man, and that such acts, persevered in, would ruin me both in time and eternity; and then she made me kneel while she prayed that God would pardon me, and give me a new heart. That was the turning point of my life. I left the house humble and penitent, and I believe from that time I have never broken the eighth commandment. My Bible was again opened, and as much as possible I kept apart from my companions. I was transferred from one garden to another; but as long as the work was done, none of the masters seemed to care what the boys did. At last, a gentleman from England came in search of a lad who could assist his gardener, who was up in years. He was to be under him, and to live in his house to my great joy I was selected. The first night I arrived, my new master opened his Bible, and proposed we should read together. I gladly assented. Soon after I told him my little story, and from that time he took a fatherly care of me; he solved my doubts, instructed my ignorance, and taught me to make the will of God the rule of my conduct. After a time I married his daughter; and when he died I was found competent to succeed him. I might have been there still, but my heart yearned after Scotland; and when this situation was offered I gladly accepted it.”

“I am, indeed, rejoiced,” said Miss Elliot, when he concluded, “that my words fell into good soil, and, with God’s blessing, have produced good fruit. How truly it is said, ‘A word spoken in season, how good it is.’”

The Youthful Martyr

IN the days of the young king, Edward the Sixth, a Bible was placed on a desk in every church of the land, for the use of the people. A large print copy, bound in wooden boards, with curious iron clasps, was then seen fastened by a chain to a strong upright stand.

As “the word of God was precious in those days” for it was costly and scarce, and many truly loved it those who had a small share of learning read it aloud to those who had less ability than themselves. Thus light began to spread, when a dark cloud came over this hopeful state of things; for Queen Mary, a stern papist, ascended the throne of England, and quickly ordered the removal of the Bibles.

In a few places, however, her commands were either not received or were not obeyed. Whatever was the cause, it is certain that there still lay the old Bible on a stand just inside the porch of the little chapelry at Brentwood, in Essex.

It was in the spring of the year 1554, when a youth, named William Hunter, entered the church to read the book he loved. He was an apprentice to a London weaver, but was now on a visit to his native town. The lad was one of those who were faithful to the truth, and who would rather suffer than sin against it.

As he stood reading the holy book and lifting up his prayer, a man of the name of Atwell, a summoner or officer of the popish bishop, came that way, and saw him so engaged.

“Why meddlest thou with the Bible!” said the officer, not a little angry that a boy should dare to open the Book of God. “Knowest thou how to read? and canst thou expound the Scriptures?”

The youth modestly replied, “Father Atwell, I take not upon me to expound the Scriptures; but finding the Bible here, I read it to my comfort.”

The officer then began to speak scornfully of the sacred word as a hurtful book.

“Say not so,” said William, in a kind and respectful manner, “it is God’s book, out of which every one that hath grace may learn to know what pleaseth God, and what is displeasing to him.”

“Could we not tell formerly,” inquired Atwell, “as now, how God was to be served?”

“Not so well as now,” added William, “if we might have His blessed word among us, as we have had; and I pray God that we may have the blessed Bible among us continually.”

As Atwell could not prevail with the lad, he cried, “I see you are one who dislikes the queen’s laws. I have heard how you left London on that account; but if you do not turn, you, as well as other heretics, will broil for your opinions.”

“God give me grace,” meekly replied William, “that I may believe His word, and confess His name, whatever may come of it.”

“Confess His name!” shouted old Atwell. “No, no; you will go to the devil, all of you.”

Atwell quickly left the chapel, and meeting with a priest, returned with him to where William was reading, when the priest began to upbraid and threaten him. The youth well knew what this meant, so he hastened kilo his father’s house, and taking a hasty leave of his parents, fled from the town.

It was a sad time when the young who loved the Lord had to leave the homes of their early days, and seek their dwelling and food wherever they could find them.

A few days after William had gone, a justice sent for the father, and ordered him to produce his son.

“What, sir,” said the parent, “would you have me seek my son that he may be burned?”

The justice was resolute; and upon this errand the poor father was obliged to depart. He rode about for two or three days, hoping to satisfy the justice, without finding his son. The lad, however, saw his father at a distance, and went to meet him.

On learning the danger of his parent, he said he would return, rather than place his father in any peril. And yet how could the aged parent secure his own safety by the surrender of his child? It was a struggle of affection: at length he yielded, and they went together into the town.

When the evening drew on, William and his father ascended the hill that leads to the little town of Brentwood. The cottagers bade them good cheer as they passed them on their way; but it was with heavy hearts and weeping eyes that they looked forward to the coming morrow.

They had not, however, to wait till the morning dawn, for during the night the young Christian was seized and hurried to the stocks. There he lay, till break of day, pained in body, but happy in mind.

Early in the morning, William was taken before a justice of the peace, who, after trying in vain to shake his faith, ordered him to be carried to the old palace in the fields of Bethnal Green about sixteen miles away where Bonner, the popish bishop of London, then resided. When he stood in the hall of the palace, the bishop first spoke to him gently, then sternly, and then roughly; but still the youth would not promise to give up the Bible, and deny its truths.

“Away with him again to the stocks,” cried the bishop, and to the stocks William was again hurried. Two long days and nights he lay there, without any food, except a crust of brown bread and a small supply of water.

Poor boy, what were his thoughts in these hours of trial? Alone, oppressed, and with the prospect of a painful death before him, what did he suffer? Surely he had grace given to him to bear all with humble trust and patience; or, like Paul and Silas, as he felt the pressure of the wood on his legs, he may have sung praises unto God.

We cannot but believe that his Saviour who tenderly feels for His suffering disciples, gave to him to taste His choicest comfort and love.

Not satisfied with this act of cruelty, his enemies proceeded to further lengths, in the hope of subduing his spirit. The bishop sent William to one of the London prisons, with strict orders to the jailor to put as many iron chains upon him as he could possibly bear. And in a dungeon he was confined for three-quarters of a year, hoping, trusting, praying always.

Bishop Bonner one day thought of the Bible-loving lad in prison, and hoping that his long confinement, together with the natural love of liberty and home, had made him more ready to yield, sent for him to his palace. But the spirit of the young martyr was yet unbroken, and his trust in the gospel as firm as before.

“If you recant,” said the bishop, “I will give you forty pounds, and set you up in business.” This was a large sum of money in those days, and the offer was very tempting, but it was at once rejected.

“I will make you steward of my own house,” added Bonner, in a gentle and crafty manner.

“But, my lord,” was the reply, “if you cannot persuade my conscience by Scripture, I cannot find in my heart to turn from God for the love of the world; for I count all worldly things but loss, in comparison with the love of Christ.”

Will neither threats nor promises avail? Then away with him to the fire.

When William again entered his native town, he knew it was to endure a painful death. But yet he knew what his Saviour had suffered for him. And he remembered, too, the words, “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.” There was no prison in the little town, so the martyr youth was confined in an inn, and guarded by constables.

His mother heard of his return, and with true love rushed to the place where he lay. Charity moved the hearts of the guards, and they allowed her to see him, and to sit by his side. And when she found him happy and constant, she blessed God for such a son, and the more so when he said: “For any little pain which I shall suffer, Christ has procured for me a crown of joy; are you not glad of that, mother?”

They then knelt down, and she prayed to God to strengthen her poor boy to the end.

At length the morning came, March 26th, 1555, that young William was to die. The sheriff justices, and priests were duly in attendance, with executioners and guards, while a crowd of people had come together to the last sad scene.

As the young martyr was led along from the inn, his father rushed forward towards him in an agony of parental feeling. Throwing his arms around the neck of his noble boy, he said, with flowing tears, “God be with thee, son William.”

The son calmly looked for the last time on his dear parent, and replied, “God be with you, father; be of good comfort; I trust we shall meet again where we shall rejoice together.”

There were many weeping eyes on that day in the little town of Brentwood. To see one so young a kind, gentle lad whose only offense was that he loved the gospel, dragged through the streets, to bear the scorching flames, was a sight that touched the hardest heart, and brought tears on many a manly cheek.

William, as he passed along, saw his father’s cottage, and cast a look on his sorrowing sisters. He bade farewell to those who had been the playmates and friends of his earliest day. He was to suffer in the cause of Christ, and they saw that he feared not to die.

At last, the procession came to the end of the town, where the stake and chain and fagots were ready. Without loss of time he was secured by the chain, and wood was piled around. While this was being done, a pardon was offered if he would profess himself a papist.

“No,” said William, resolutely, “I will not recant, God willing.” Then turning to the people he asked them to pray for him.

“Pray for thee?” cried a hard-hearted justice, who was looking on, “I will no more pray for thee than I would for a dog.”

“I pray God this may not be laid to your charge at the last day,” was William’s calm reply.

A priest, too, began to taunt him; until a gentleman spoke aloud, “May God have mercy on his soul;” and the people mournfully added, “Amen.”

The fire was now lighted, and as the flames began to rise, William, who still held in his hand a book of Psalms, threw it into the hands of his brother, who had followed him to the place of death. His brother said, “William, think on the sufferings of Christ, and be not afraid.”

“I am not afraid,” added the martyr. “Lord, Lord, receive my spirit.” The fire was lighted; the dry fagots burned briskly; and the flames soon wrapped around his body. In a few minutes his sufferings were at an end forever.

An old elm tree still marks the spot, near which William Hunter yielded up his life for the truth. Though three hundred and fifty years have passed since then, his name is not forgotten. His soul has joined the “noble army of martyrs” in heaven; but the record of his faith and courage will long survive on earth.

Let us learn from his history:

1. The need of constancy in resisting the most tempting offers to deny our Master. Like Moses, the servant of God, let us choose “rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures in Egypt.”

2. The blessing of having praying parents. The father and mother of William could give such a son to Christ and for Christ, encouraging him, even in the prospect of death, not to renounce the truth. May your parents never be called to such a test of love.

3. The true character of Popery. Can that be the pure and holy religion of Jesus the religion of love and mercy which commits such dreadful deeds? Christ was kind and loving to all. He came “not to destroy men’s lives, but to save them.” When His disciples would have used the sword, and have called “down fire from heaven,” He rebuked them. How different from His gentle and merciful spirit has been the conduct of cruel persecutors in every age! How truly lamentable when any who profess to follow Him manifest a bitter and merciless spirit towards their fellow-men, just because they do not see eye to eye.

The Gospel Echo: Volume 21 (1905)

Table of Contents

All of Grace

"And He Shall Reign."

"Arise, Let Us Go Hence."

Be Still

The Bitter Cup

Blossom and Fruit

The Bow in the Cloud

Burning the Plow

The Child and the Traveler.

The Cripple and His Bible

The Darkness of the Puritans

Divine Guidance

The Duties of a Trustee

The Effect of Sabbath Rest

The Falling Leaves

A Few Words From the Old Shetland Sailor

For "Young Men and Maidens."

The Forfeited Crown

A Fragrant Memory

Gethsemane

The Good Parson of Lutterworth

Grains of Gold

Great Mistakes

Happiness

Happy Michael

Hearts in Tune

The House We Build

How to Deal With Infidelity

"In Deep Unfathomable Mines."

Inquiry

The Interrupted Revel

Joseph's Coffin

The Joy of Angels

Letter From a Village Pastor

Marguerite Lebrun; or, Grace Without Conditions.

Marvels of Providence and Miracles of Grace

The Merchant of Lyons

The Minister's Dog

Modern Martyrs

More Seasonable Words

The Mother's Prayer

Nature and Grace

The Old Sinner Saved

Peace

Peace

Peace Better Than War

The Pharisee and Publican

A Pilgrim Song

The Praise of Jesus.

Prayer and Blessing

A Priceless Portion

Reading the Will

Recorded Mercies

A Seasonable Exhortation

"Sit Still."

Someone

"Stand Still,"

A Thrilling Picture

The Tower and Its Prisoners

A True Christian

Try the Spirits

The Two Builders

Value of the Scriptures

A Very Solemn Incident

A Visit to Clinton

A Visit to Oakington

Weary

What I Sometimes Think

When to Be Silent

"Where Do the Clouds Come From?"

Willie Stuart

The Youthful Martyr