

About the Book

William Haslam was converted while preaching his own sermon in his own church! In this book he uses verses from the Gospel of John to recall challenging conversations he had over many years of his ministry. He meets people with no faith who mock him, and people who think their deep knowledge of Christian doctrine will guarantee them a place in heaven. There are thirty-two short chapters based on verses from the Gospel of John, recalling a mix of people, the majority of whom share one thing ― confusion and misunderstanding in their faith. Some listen and learn, and others go away empty-handed, unwilling to hear the word of God.

Gleanings from the Harvest

William Haslam

(1818-1905)

First Published c1888

This edited and abridged edition ©White Tree Publishing 2019

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-26-1

Published by

White Tree Publishing

Bristol

UNITED KINGDOM

More books on www.whitetreepublishing.com

Contact mailto:wtpbristol@gmail.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this abridged edition.

Scripture quotations from The Authorized (King James) Version. Rights in the Authorized Version are vested in the Crown. Reproduced by permission of the Crown's patentee, Cambridge University Press.

Table of Contents

COVER

ABOUT THE BOOK

PUBLISHERS NOTE

INTRODUCTION

1. THE DRY BOOK

2. LIFE AND LIGHT

3. PRESENT SALVATION

4. "COME AND SEE!"

5. "I WISH TO BE SAVED!"

6. DARKNESS IN LIGHT

7. "CONDEMNED ALREADY!"

8. THE SPRINGING WELL

9. "COME IN!"

10. THE JUDGMENT DAY

11. "I WILL NEVER COME AGAIN!"

12. "THE RAILWAY GUIDE"

13. "WHAT DO YOU FEED THEM UPON?"

14. "THE OLD COLONEL"

15. "THE MAJOR"

16. "NEVER SEE DEATH!"

17. THE GIFT AND THE GIVER

18. NEVER PERISH

19. THE STONE IN THE WAY

20. "LOOSE HIM!"

21. "I WOULD SEE JESUS!"

22. CLEANSING

23. "THE LORD IS COMING!"

24. THE DYING SOLDIER'S PEACE

25. THE FRUITLESS TREE

26. THE COMFORTER

27. ANSWERED PRAYER

28. THE CASKET

29. CROSSING THE LINE

30. "WHAT DO YOU SEE?"

31. CONTROVERSY

32. ASSURANCE

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CHRISTIAN FICTION

YOUNGER READERS

Introduction

You may have heard of the clergyman who was converted while preaching his own sermon! Well, this is man ‒ William Haslam. It happened in Cornwall one Sunday in 1851. He later wrote his autobiography in two books: From Death into Life and Yet not I. An abridged edition of these two books is available as an eBook from White Tree Publishing, entitled Haslam's Journey. This book, Gleanings from the Harvest, is similar in form to another of William Haslam's books from White Tree Publishing, Leaves from My Notebook, as we again see him share his faith one to one, with dramatic results. Haslam was a man who mixed easily with titled gentry and the poorest of the poor, bringing the message of salvation in a way that people were ready to accept. This book has been lightly edited to make reading easier today by using modern punctuation and avoiding over-long sentences and paragraphs. William Haslam's amazing message is unchanged.

Publisher's Note

There are 32 chapters in this book. In the second half are advertisements for our other books, so this book may end earlier than expected! The last chapter is marked as such. We aim to make our eBooks free or for a nominal cost, and cannot invest in other forms of advertising. However, word of mouth by satisfied readers will also help get our books more widely known. When the book finishes, please take a look at the other books we publish: Christian non-fiction, Christian fiction, and books for younger readers.

1. The Dry Book

John 1:1

JOHN'S Gospel contains a history of the Lord Jesus Christ, particularly as the Eternal Son of God. While Matthew tells of Him as the King, Mark as the Servant, Luke as the Son of Man, to John has been given the honour of setting the Lord forth in His Divine life-giving character as the Son of God.

In order to do this in the simplicity which belongs to the writer, he is inspired to use the figure of "The Word" to illustrate his great subject. He calls the Lord Jesus the logos [ὁ λόγος], or "The Word." He means to say in all plainness that as a thing is secret and unknown until it is put into words, so the true character of God as the God of Love is unknown until revealed to us by His Son, the personal Word of God.

We by nature, like our father Adam, regard God with dread and fear because we know we are sinners, and that He is a holy God. Therefore we naturally shrink from Him, and try to cover, or hide, or justify ourselves. But Christ is come to assure us that guilty as we are − and far more so in God's sight than we think or know − still God loves us! He so loves us that He gave His Son; and the Son of God, in confirmation of this love, came to this world willingly to die for our benefit and salvation.

Herein is God's love manifested by Christ, and all this is made known to us by the written Word as inspired by the Holy Ghost. Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God. [Romans 10:17.] It is by hearing the written Word that we are brought to believe in Christ, the personal Word, and believing in Him, we have eternal life.

One day, in the midst of many engagements, I received an invitation to stay at a large house to meet a distinguished young gentleman. He was one who was unconcerned about eternal things, and lived as if he had nothing to do with them, or they with him. Though sociable and most polite, he was "far off" when religious matters were introduced, and did not join in the conversation.

One morning he came and took his seat by the fire while I was looking over a chapter of the Bible. This fact in itself encouraged me to believe that the prayers, which were being offered for him, were had in remembrance before God. Thus thinking, I inwardly prayed, "If this be so, Lord, let him speak to me first."

Soon he remarked, "That is a dry old book, isn't it?"

"No, indeed," I replied, "it is not dry to me, for I am deeply interested in the subject of it."

As he made no answer, I went on to say, "When a man is taken up with a particular study, a book that treats exhaustively of it cannot fail to be interesting to him."

"Yes," he said dryly, "I suppose it is so."

"Last evening," I continued, "I saw you poring over one of those yellow railway novels."

"So I was," he said in an animated way, interrupting me. "I had been reading it in the train, and was so much absorbed in the story that I did not know we had arrived at the terminus. I was obliged to break off in a most delightful part, so I took the first opportunity of reading it again."

"What was it about?" I asked. "Was it history or fiction?"

"Oh, that does not matter. If the tale is well told, some histories are romantic, too."

"This is what I mean. That particular book was interesting to you because you liked the subject. For the same reason, this book, the Bible, is deeply interesting to me. For instance, I delight in the thought of God's love for man. Even though man is sinful, God loves him! It is like the love a mother has towards a sick child. Her love is manifested all the more because the child is ill, however much she hates the disease which has taken hold. So God loves the sinner, though He hates his sins."

"This may be so," he said, "in your case. I have tried to read the Bible over and over again. It is awfully dry. I do not believe the Bible, or its inspiration either."

"That may be," I replied, "but your unbelief does not alter the fact of inspiration."

"I think they are proper dry old sticks who write arguments about inspiration."

"That may or may not be, for I do not know what writers you refer to. I am quite sure, however, that if you knew God, you would not require arguments to prove inspiration."

"But how in the world is a man to know the Bible is God's Word, except by arguments?"

"There are many external evidences," I said, "and these are being added to every day by the researches of scholars and travellers; though, for my own part, I rely far more upon internal evidence. For instance, this morning at prayers we read in the fourth chapter of the Acts these words; 'This is the stone which was set at naught of you builders, which is become the head of the corner.'

"Now would you imagine that the figure or symbol of a stone is, from one end of the Word of God to the other, used to represent Christ? There are many books in the Bible, written by different people, who had not read the writings of the others, and yet they all make use of the same figure to represent Christ. What is more wonderful still, very few, if any of them, knew as distinctly as we do now, the Person to whom they referred in their writings. Does not this fact prove beyond doubt that there is a superintending Spirit who by dictation or inspiration put the truth, and this figure of the stone, into the minds of those who were employed to write about it?

"In Genesis 49:24 we read that Christ is called 'the stone of Israel.' This is a figure you will find constantly used in the Old Testament to represent Christ; and in the New Testament this same figure of a stone is taken up by the Lord as applying to Himself. In the Book of Genesis we read that the Babel builders were erecting a tower whose top should reach unto heaven. They had brick instead of stone [see Genesis 11:3-4]. This implies that they should have used stone to build with, but they substituted man-made bricks for stone of God's creation. They were defeated in their efforts and scattered.

"Now look here," I said, "this is not only history, but a parable. Men try by human efforts to make their own way to heaven because they have not, and do not care to have, Christ for their righteousness. God has provided Christ to be the foundation stone on which to build, and Christ in His finished work as the stone to build with. But they prefer having brick for stone. That is, human religiousness instead of Divine operation."

"I do not think much of that," he remarked impatiently.

"Well," I said, "look here again. The Psalmist hundreds of years afterwards says, 'The stone which the builders refused is become the head-stone of the corner' [Psalm 18:22]. The Lord Jesus refers to this passage to show the Jews that they were building upon their own human traditions, instead of upon God and His inspired Word [see Matthew 21:42]. Appropriating this passage to Himself, He says, 'Did ye never read in the Scriptures, The stone which the builders rejected, the same is become the head of the corner; and whosoever shall fall on this stone shall be broken; but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder?'

"Again, Christ is represented in the Prophet Daniel by the 'stone cut without hands,' which breaks in pieces the great image of iron, brass, clay, silver, and gold. This stone which smites the image becomes a great mountain, and fills the whole earth [see Daniel 2]. You understand this dream of Nebuchadnezzar refers to the four great monarchies of the world: the Babylonian, Persian, Grecian, and Roman, which are all in due time to be succeeded by the great monarchy, or kingdom, of Christ."

My friend had lately been reading about Babylon and Nebuchadnezzar, which I did not know. "This is awfully interesting," he said, looking intently at me as if he wished to hear more about it.

"Where," I asked, "do you think these various writers got the figure of the stone, if not from God? To me it proves beyond all contradiction that the men who wrote the Bible were inspired. If God did not inspire them, then some other omniscient spirit did. Do you think the devil inspired the Bible?"

"No, certainly not," he replied with firmness.

"You may depend upon it," I said. "God's Word is not such a poor insipid or dry thing as you think it. If you only knew the Lord, and how much He loves you, you would be charmed with what He reveals about Himself, and astonished at what He reveals about you.

"God foreknew you before the foundation of the world, and so loved you that He gave His Son, that, if you believed in Him, you should not perish but have everlasting life. The Son of God who came to save you is the same Divine Person who is spoken of as the Word in the first verse of the first chapter of John's Gospel, 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.'"

"Ah!" said my friend, "that is a deep and metaphysical subject. Many volumes have been written about that."

"Yes," I replied, "that is true. But for all that, John the Evangelist was only a simple-minded man, and intended to use a simple, not an obscure expression. He meant to say that as words reveal thoughts, so Christ is come to reveal God and His love. The written Word of God is like a wonderful mirror which reflects to us the true likeness of God.

"Besides this, it tells us of the past, the present, and the future. Could human writers do that? Indeed, it is perfectly absurd to deny or doubt the inspiration of Scripture! It is not a mark of cleverness, but of sheer ignorance."

My friend remained silent, so I continued. "No man who knows God can possibly doubt the Bible, and what is the use of believing people who do not know God? Their words are like those of the serpent to Eve, 'Yea, hath God said?' Eve was deceived, and fell. Surely we ought to take warning from her. But unhappily, such is the power of Satan, and such the deceitfulness of our own hearts, that the serpent goes on still, even in these enlightened days, to say, 'Yea, hath God said?' It is evident he has been at you with his old trick of deception!"

"Well," he said, "at Eton, and at Oxford too, I was taught more mythology than theology."

"There you are," I said, "you child of Adam, justifying yourself and blaming your teachers, as Adam blamed Eve, and Eve blamed the serpent. See your own face in the glass of God's Word."

"I should like above all things," he said, "to hunt up these subjects for myself. I did not think the Bible was such a book as it seems to be."

I said, "I do not wish by any means to discourage you in this. I hope you will read the Bible, and pray over it, too; but there is something else to be done before you do that."

"What do you refer to?" he asked.

"I mean, that the first thing for you to do is to come to God to receive forgiveness of your sins. You should go to the God of the Word, before you go to the Word of God. The jailor at Philippi, when he was awakened, was told to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. He did so, and he was saved in that midnight hour. Afterwards, we read, 'they spake unto him the Word of the Lord' [Acts 16:32]."

"How is this?" he inquired. "I have been told to read and believe the Word, and that the Word of God is the best guide to heaven."

"Perhaps," I answered, "you misunderstood the friends who advised you. You may be sure that the Bible is not given to replace Christ, but rather to tell you about Him. All the Scriptures can do is to make you wise unto salvation − to show you what salvation is. But salvation itself can only be had by direct personal faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Timothy was not converted by knowing the Scriptures, but by believing the Gospel."

The end of our conversation was that my friend determined to go to God to receive forgiveness of his sins. He went just as he was, without any plea but that the blood of Jesus had been shed for him. The Lord awakened him by the operation of the Spirit, convicted him of sin, and converted him. He was brought to know the Saviour, and his own personal interest in Him as the Eternal Word of God.

Thus the scoffing, thoughtless man was changed into a rejoicing believer − one who from that time delighted in the Word and the ordinances of God. He began to study the Word as one who searches a will to see the extent and amount of his inheritance. He found that, besides pardon of sins, there was cleansing from unrighteousness in the 'will' or testament; and still more than that, an inheritance here upon earth amongst those who are sanctified by faith, which is in Christ Jesus. Reading, he runs to tell others the good news of salvation.

2. Life and Light

John 1:4

HAVING shown us the Eternal Son of God, as the Word, the Apostle or Evangelist goes on to say that "all things were made by Him," and that "without Him was not anything made that was made," − in other words, that He is the source of all creation and existence. "He spake, and it was done; He commanded, and it stood fast" [Psalm 33: 9].

"In Him was life, and the life was the light of men" [John 1:4.]: that is to say, that the Lord is not only the source of all creation, but He is the fountain of life. He breathed the spirit into Adam, and he became a living soul. As such, he had an entrance into the spiritual kingdom, and was enabled to understand spiritual realities. It is true Adam lost this life and light too; but it was restored to him when he believed in God. His descendants, however, are born in sin − dead in trespasses and sins, wherein they walk according to the course of this world.

Nevertheless there is spiritual life provided, if they will believe in the Lord. Unhappily, too many content themselves by obtaining and attaining light and knowledge, instead of life. They endeavour to acquire religious habits of one kind or another, and vainly think this will suffice. Man's religion invariably reverses the order of God − putting darkness for light, and light for darkness. Putting their own thoughts for God's thoughts, and their own ways for God's ways. The Word of God says, The "life is the light;" man says, The light is the life.

"I must shake hands with you," said a bright faced lady to me one day. She did so. I asked her why she was so kindly disposed towards me.

She answered, "Some ten years ago I went to hear you preach. In the course of the sermon you drew a vivid picture of a man rowing in a boat. He was looking one way and going the other, and you said, 'See! The devil is there steering the boat, and talking to that man about going to heaven, when all the time he is going in the opposite direction.'

"I thought to myself, 'What an awful delusion that is!' but did not for a moment suspect that I was labouring under it. For all that, your description haunted me like the remembrance of a dream, and it came to my mind at intervals, and at unwelcome times. By day and by night it followed me, and eventually, thank God, it was the means of my conversion."

Let me tell this lady's story in a brief way. She was one who had been brought up carefully by Christian parents, and they had taught her about the love of Jesus. They told her that Jesus loved her, and that if she continued to be a good child He would love her more and more. There is no doubt about the love of Jesus to her, but the mistake lay in supposing that it was a love of complacency, as if He was pleased with her natural goodness.

His love is a love of compassion for us, not because we are good, but because we are sinners, hopelessly lost − sinners who need to be changed and pardoned. Her parents did not teach her this, but added line upon line, and precept upon precept, to recommend Jesus and His love for her acceptance as she was. In early life, therefore, she began to love Him in the same manner as a Romanist child might be taught to love Mary, or a Hindu child to love their god Krishna. She was surrounded by Christian influence and example, and besides all this, delighted in the study of her Bible.

In due time a suitable governess was found, who educated her at home; and thus she was kept away from pernicious or harmful companions. Under these influences she grew in years and stature, and by the time she was old enough to be brought out into society, was accounted an exemplary Christian. She not only passed for such, but delighted in the thought of being so regarded.

This lady had not a suspicion that there was anything wrong, and did not know that the superstructure of her religious life was built upon the sand of human nature, and not upon the Rock Christ Jesus. Unconsciously she was day by day departing farther from God into paths of self-righteousness. Life should be our light, not light our life.

It so happened that a friend came to visit her parents. He was a man of God, and had experience in spiritual things. He was charmed with the conversation and intelligence of this young lady, but was surprised that he had so little communion of spirit with her. It perplexed him very much, for to all outward appearance she was a most consistent Christian. Her whole heart and mind were occupied with religious exercises and Christian work.

One day, in course of conversation, the thought came to his mind that her heart had never been changed. He dismissed the idea as if it were treasonable to harbour it of one so much better than himself. Can it be, he thought, that she is only a seedling tree which has never been grafted?

After this he took opportunity to ask her some questions about the work of the Holy Spirit. She answered his inquiries readily enough from the Word of God, but not as one who spoke from experience. Ultimately she frankly admitted that she had been most carefully brought up, and therefore did not need the change which was necessary for worldly people! It was now evident that she had not been taught the absolute necessity of the new birth. Like too many others, she had never realised the fact of our utterly lost and ruined condition in Adam.

Her friend did not dispute with her or draw her into argument, but simply urged her to pray. "I know," he said, "that you desire above all things to be the Lord's. Tell Him so, and entreat Him to show you if you are right in your present state, and, if you are not that, He will make you so."

It was very humiliating to her to take the place of the unconverted, and all the more so because she had said that in her case it was not necessary. However, she restrained her feelings, and promised she would comply with the direction given.

She was not afraid to trust God, and therefore went to her room and knelt down in prayer. She had not been there long before she thought of the man rowing in a boat, with his face one way while he was gliding along the other. She said to herself, I wonder whether that is what I have been doing? Perhaps God has been keeping this picture before my mind for a purpose.

The more she prayed, the more clearly she saw that by nature we are all in the broad way which leads to destruction. She also saw she had taken it for granted that the necessary change had taken place, and that she had passed out of the broad road, through the strait gate, into the narrow way of life.

Once awakened to see her mistake, she was at first tempted to feel angry with God. She had prayed for guidance, and to think she had been going all wrong − had been deceiving others − passing for a Christian, when she was not! She was overwhelmed with shame and confusion, and in much distress she came out of her room to speak with her friend.

He was greatly relieved to hear what she had to say, for he had been reproaching himself, for fear he had been making sad a child of God, whom God had not made sad. His joy was great, therefore, when he heard that the Lord had opened her eyes to see and feel her need of a change of heart. It was not so much a time for prayer as for faith with thanksgiving. So he urged her to thank God, and trust Him to enable her to see "light in His light."

After two days of intense anxiety and conviction, such as she had never known before, she found peace, not in theory, but in experienced reality. To give her own words, she said, "Formerly I believed with an intelligent understanding. Now I believe as one who has been awakened by the Spirit to see myself a lost sinner. I believe Jesus died for me. I assented to this statement before, but now I believe it with my whole heart, and have a personal interest in the Lord's death."

Upon inquiry, I find that this lady has been, and still is, living for the glory of God. She is letting her light shine, and bearing testimony, not so much from what she thinks, as from what she knows of the work of the Spirit of Life in her soul. She has spiritual life, and this life is her light − her example is her testimony.

I have told this story partly in the lady's own words and partly in mine, hoping to arrest the attention of any who may have been misled from childhood in the same manner that she was. How often parents watch the beginning and progress of what they call "grace" in their children, when all the time what they look upon as grace is nothing more than a natural inclination towards good things.

From teaching and example, children may be brought early to love Christian ways and Christian principles. But this is not enough; for if their hearts are not really changed, they will go back and disappoint the hopes that had been cherished concerning them. A seedling tree may be cultivated to grow luxuriantly, and may look even better than many a grafted tree; but until it has been grafted it is but a corrupt tree at best, and cannot bring forth good fruit. So an unconverted person may be taught and trained to live like a Christian, but such a one cannot be a real Christian until Christ is known as the life.

Let us beware of a Christless Christianity, especially in these days of abundant light. Too often the light is supposed to be the life. Many well-meaning people, who do not desire either to deceive or be deceived, are under this delusion. It is therefore not lack of charity, but real and true charity to show them their mistake. Who ought to be so ready or so able to do this, as those who have themselves been delivered from such a false idea?

3. Present Salvation

John 1:29

CONTINUING his theme, the Evangelist goes on to tell us of a remarkable fact or phenomenon − that "the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it not;" that Christ, who made the world and is the Light, came to the world, and the world knew Him not. He came to His own people, and they received Him not

By nature, fallen man could not see the true Light. So God sent a man, John the Baptist, to be in himself a witness of the Light, that all men through him might believe. Though man cannot see the Christ of God, yet he can comprehend a person upon whom the light shines, and who is able to bear witness to the fact that Christ is come to save sinners. This John was declared to be the greatest of all the prophets, for while others predicted the future coming of the Messiah, he enjoyed the high privilege of beholding Him, and pointing Him to others as a present Saviour.

Our salvation must be a present thing or it is nothing.

At the close of a mission sermon in a suburban church, there were quite a number of anxious souls who lingered behind, seeking direction and encouragement. I had helped some of these inquirers in their difficulties. They had gone away rejoicing, and I was looking about for someone else to speak to me. While I was waiting in the aisle, I observed two gentlemen walking up towards me side by side and step by step. On reaching me they made a kind of official bow. I bowed in return.

"This is the churchwarden," said one of the gentlemen, pointing to the other. I bowed again, whereupon the churchwarden said, "Will you please to walk into the vestry with us, sir?"

I assented, and the gentlemen turned round and marched side by side as before. I followed them, wondering to myself, "What is to happen now?" for in those days bishops and archdeacons did not smile upon missions and mission work, as many of them are doing at the present time.

Arriving at the vestry, I was shown to a chair at the head of the table, and my two friends sat one on each side of me. After a pause, the churchwarden began with some little hesitation and said, "We are not accustomed to missions here, sir. We never heard of one being held in a church before!"

"That is a very good reason," I replied, "why you should have one now."

"This mission," he continued, "has quite upset me."

Here he came to a halt, and at the end of a brief pause, he whispered in a choking voice, "That gentleman wishes to speak to you."

Accordingly I turned to his friend, and said, "What can I do for you?"

"Well, sir," he replied, "if your preaching is right, I am all wrong."

"What makes you think that?" I inquired.

"Why, sir, I am doing my best, and hope to be saved eventually; but you say, that is not God's religion, but man's."

"Yes, indeed I do; and I am sure that I am right in saying so."

"Sir," he continued, "I used to be a very worldly man, and I did many things in business which I well knew were not honest. I used to delude the public one way and another in order to sell my goods. I knew well enough this was not right, and I was often troubled with the thought, 'Surely my sin will one day find me out.' I had a son, sir. He was the idol of my heart. I may say my life was bound up in his.

"Three years ago he was taken ill − he was dangerously ill. I watched by him, with his mother, day and night. I did not know what I should do if he died. One evening the doctor announced to us that the boy was much worse, and that it was probable he might die before the morning. To all outward appearance this was too true.

"In my despair, I fell upon my knees and prayed to God to spare the child's life. I was in an agony of prayer. While I was thus engaged, my wife said, 'My dear, he is going!' I rose up from my knees and came to the bedside. The dear boy was still breathing, but very faintly. I fear I became impatient. I said, 'If God takes that boy, He will have to take me too.'

"For hours we watched anxiously by the side of that sick one, every now and then holding a glass before his mouth to see if he was still breathing. At last he appeared to be sinking. I was in despair − disappointed too, that God did not answer my earnest prayer. I could not bear to see the boy die. So putting on my hat I went out, not knowing whither. Presently I found myself on the pier, and while standing there, the thought of throwing myself into the sea came into my mind.

"'As God is taking my boy away, He may as well have me too!' I said to myself. I went to the edge of the pier, but before throwing myself into the dark waters, another thought came to my mind. It was that I should first of all go home and ascertain whether the boy was really dead. If so, I would certainly come back and do this desperate act.

"On reaching home, I found the dear one was still living. His mother said with great excitement, 'O papa, God has surely answered your prayer. I do believe Edward will recover! He rallied soon after you went out, and asked for a glass of milk. He drank it all, and is now asleep and breathing regularly.'

"I felt such joy and thankfulness in my heart, that I knelt down at once to thank God, and at the same time I promised Him I would be a better man. Since that time, God has been very good to me. The boy is quite well again, and I have been altogether a different man. We have family prayer, and go to church regularly, and we are communicants."

I was just going to speak, when he began again.

"I assure you, sir, I have given up my bad ways in business. All is now honest and honourable."

"Thank God for that, but―"

"I know what you are going to say," he continued, interrupting me. "You think I am not right yet!"

"You are right as far as you have gone. It is quite right that you should have the form of godliness, though that in itself is not sufficient. You need to have the power also."

"Oh, yes, I understand you. Mr. G. told me that I had only the baptism of John."

"True," I said, "but you have only the beginning of that. When John the Baptist had prepared the people by repentance, and had baptized them, he pointed them to the Lamb of God for forgiveness. I do not consider that the baptism of John is complete without that. John was sent to bear witness of Christ, not merely to show sinners their sins."

"That is just where I am, too," said the churchwarden, who had been listening in silence to his friend's story. "I have nothing but reformation − not the true repentance which brings a soul to God."

"Then," I said, "you are both in the same situation, and need the same instruction. All I can say to you at present is, 'Behold the Lamb of God, which beareth away the sin of the world.' When Andrew and John, who were disciples of John the Baptist, heard these words, they went to Jesus and became personally acquainted with Him. This is what you both need to do. Do not give up prayer, family worship, church-going, or church ordinances; but rather give your hearts to Him who died to save you, and shed His blood to wash your sins away. Then you will know in your own experience what is the form of godliness, with the power thereof.

"The Prophet Ezekiel prophesied in the valley of dry bones, and as he prophesied, 'There was a noise, and behold, a shaking, and the bones came together, bone to his bone. And when I beheld,' says the prophet, 'lo, the sinews and the flesh came up upon them, and the skin covered them above; but there was no breath in them.' Then the prophet prophesied to the wind, 'And the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great army' [Ezekiel 37:7-8, 10].

"There are many sinners who are like the dead and dry bones in the valley; and how many others there are who are no longer in that disjointed state. But bone has come to bone, and they have, like you, taken a form and stand up. But they have no life! They need the breath of the Spirit, that they may live. Do not be discouraged, either of you; but 'Behold the Lamb of God!' He bore your sins in His body on the tree. If you believe this in your heart, you will thank Him."

"But how," asked the churchwarden, "am I to know that the Lord Jesus did this for me?"

"I will answer this question by asking you another. How am I to know that He left you out, if He bore the sin of the world? If He tasted death for every man, He surely did it for you. Thank Him for what He did; and if you cannot thank Him as well as you could wish, yet thank Him as well as you can in the meantime. Set your face in the direction of believing and thanking."

My friends were evidently perplexed, for they were looking within for some feelings. I continued, "You cannot feel the forgiveness of your sins while you are working or praying for it. If, instead of asking, you thank the Lord for what He has done, you will soon believe in your heart, and feel too, that your sins are forgiven. Feeling comes after thanking − not before it.

"We do not thank God for what we feel, but for what He has done for us. Believers are a thanking people; and what is more, they praise God − that is, they recommend Him to others. When Andrew found the Lord, he went immediately to call his brother Simon. So I would advise you, when you have found the Saviour, to praise Him in this way, by recommending Him at home."

"That was my wife," said one of the gentlemen, "who went out of church praising God just now."

"Thank God for that also. Now I hope that you and your wife will testify to your son, and bring him to Jesus. You once said that if God took him, He must take you too. Now, if He takes your heart, you must ask Him to take your son's also."

We all three knelt down and thanked God for sending His Son, and thanked the Son of God for shedding His blood for the remission of sins. We also asked the Lord, by the power of the Holy Spirit, to make the thanksgiving real and true. My two friends after a little time rose up from their knees, praising God with tears of joy, and thanked me most gratefully.

The boy also was brought to Jesus before the mission was over. Since this time, these three, father, mother, and son, have by their life and example shown the blessedness of being believers in the Lord; and our friend the churchwarden is not behind them in zeal and testimony. This is present salvation, to be saved, and to know it − to live in the joy of the Lord, and out of the fullness of our hearts to tell what a salvation it is.

There is all the difference between having a thing, and asking for it − between possessing a thing, or working in order to attain it at some indefinite future − at death, the judgment day, or no one knows when.

4. "Come and See"

John 1:46

I LOVE the story of Philip and Nathanael. It is interesting to me for several personal reasons, and it is instructive also. I do so admire the quiet assurance with which Philip says, "Come and see."

Philip, having himself been found by the Saviour, had good news to announce to his friend and benefactor Nathanael. Evidently he knew where to find him. So brushing aside the thick leaves of the fig tree under which Nathanael was sitting, he said to him abruptly, "We have found Him of whom Moses in the law and the prophets did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph."

The earnest man, with the volume of the book by his side, must have been amazed, not only at the statement, but at the suddenness with which it was made. He must have been surprised also at the change in Philip's countenance and manner. Probably he used to come and sit at Nathanael's feet, looking very thoughtful and anxious as he tried to take in the things which Nathanael propounded to him from the Scriptures and the Jewish fathers. But now, how different was his appearance!

Poor Philip, notwithstanding his happiness, was altogether out in his theology. At that time it was not scholarly or conventional to call the Messiah by the name of Jesus, for the scholars had not yet heard that name; and that He was come from Nazareth, and was the son of Joseph, were statements hard to be received.

"No, no," said Nathanael, "can any good thing come out of Nazareth? The true Messiah is the son of David, not of Joseph; and He should come from Bethlehem, not Nazareth."

Philip was wrong, yet he was right; and he was so confident of this, that instead of arguing the point he said, "Come and see."

It is a blessed thing to be well established in "the faith," and to know in whom you have believed. Much as I admire the boldness of Philip, I also admire the humility of Nathanael, who allowed Philip to lead him to see a Messiah so contrary to his conceptions, and one so different to general expectation.

Before my conversion, I had a friend whom I greatly valued and respected. He was a man who took God's Word so literally that he startled me sometimes with his application of Scripture. He was one who prayed, and really expected answers to his petitions.

He said he firmly believed the Lord would put forth His power and raise up the Church, and put her in her proper place − above principalities and powers, and make nations and people bow down before her.

He gave me several texts and references to the Old and New Testament to prove his statements. At that time, I did not know enough about the Bible or dispensational truth to detect the fallacies of his position.

This gentleman had a good garden, and one in which he took much delight. He had made for himself an arbour where he could read and study, for as he said, "It is close and hot in the house." In reality, it was more than an arbour, though he called it by that name. It was really a wooden cabin set up in the midst of a thick shrubbery of evergreens.

He told me how he began it. "First," he said, "I cut down some of the trees in the midst of the shrubbery, then by tying the tops of the surrounding trees together I made a snug retreat in which to ensconce myself. There I could be private, and have no one to see or bother me. I found, however, that the rain made the place wet and damp, and besides this, caterpillars came crawling on my head and my work.

"Sometimes one or more spiders would come swinging down from the branches above, and annoy me. To obviate these inconveniences, I ordered a roof to be put over my retreat, and then finding it draughty, I had the posts on which the roof was supported encased with planks, introducing four windows to admit the light."

Now he was fortified against all comers, and he sat there quite content, often in a stifling atmosphere. He would have been far better off in his study, but such was his fancy. In this retreat he seemed to get full inspiration for his various views and thoughts.

"Here," he said, "I can imagine myself like one of the original hermit fathers who came to evangelise the land when our ancestors were painted savages.

So much for the power of imagination!

"This," continued my friend, "is like Jonah under his gourd, and better still, like Nathanael under his fig tree."

"Yes," I said, "and I am like Philip, who comes to you for teaching."

He was like Nathanael also, in that he was not expecting a Saviour to save him as an individual; but rather was looking for some deliverer or deliverance which would exalt him in his corporate capacity with the Church, to some advanced state of liberty and freedom.

I must confess he brought me very much into the same vague kind of expectation. I too had an idea that my individuality was lost in my corporate position, as a member of the Church.

In the midst of my schemes for the enriching of the Church and for promoting her power and progress, it pleased God to awaken and show me that I was a lost sinner. This greatly upset me and my plans. However, there was no escape, for the convicting power of the Spirit is not like that of the natural conscience.

My convictions deepened, until I fell into despair, then sought for mercy, and by the grace of God found salvation. In the height of my joy and thankfulness, I went to my Nathanael. I found him literally "under his fig tree," for there was such a tree as this trained over his cabin or arbour. I told him of my conversion and how salvation was come to my soul.

"Sir," said my friend sternly, "there is no salvation for you as an individual − no salvation, sir, excepting in the Church and by the Church."

He brought forward sayings of "the fathers" to confirm his arguments, and texts of Scripture enough to confuse and perplex me. But I could not for a moment doubt the reality of what had passed between God and my soul. I was as sure of that as I was of my own existence. I remembered Philip's "Come and see."

"Come and see for yourself," I said. "You will not have so far to go as Nathanael had, for we can kneel down just here."

"No, sir, this is not the place to pray. I pray in the Church!"

"Well, then," I said, "let us go there and pray."

"No, sir," he repeated. "If it is to take me out of the Church I would rather not!"

I replied, "It will not do that, but rather bring you into spiritual oneness with Christ, and into His true Church. We do not belong to Christ because we belong to a Church, but to 'the Church' because we are Christ's."

He replied, "That, sir, is the Lutheran heresy which caused so much dissension in the sixteenth century."

I could not persuade my friend to "Come and see." He evaded me by bringing forward many arguments and statements. Among other things, he said that "the Church was the fold of Christ."

"Yes, indeed," I said, "I believe it is the fold. But did you ever hear of a fold going out to save the wandering sheep? Does not the shepherd do that, and bring the lost one into the fold to be cared for? You believe in a fold, but I want you to come to the Shepherd, and He will admit you into the true fold."

Philip succeeded in leading his master to the Messiah, but I grieve to say that my friend would not let me lead him to Jesus, or consent to my praying with him for this purpose.

He promised, however, to pray for himself, and I do not doubt that he did so. But having an idol in his heart, he was answered according to his idol. He did not, like his imaginary prototype Nathanael, give up his prejudices and come with a childlike mind. Consequently he did not arrive at the same happy result.

My friend wanted a Christ according to the approved tradition, not according to the mind of God. The idea of a baptized child of God coming as a sinner for forgiveness was, he said, very repulsive to him.

The Jews have some authority for looking for a deliverer who will deliver them as a nation in a corporate capacity, but we have no such promise or expectation.

My failure did not discourage me in my testimony, though it grieves me to this day to have lost such a friend as he was. I record this as a warning to those who are entangled in the same views.

"Come" is a word which has much significance. It implies some person to come to − and what is of greater consequence, a willing action on our part besides. When you come, you receive the promise and its fulfilment. Everyone who really comes to Jesus sees Him − becomes acquainted with Him − and has salvation in and by Him.

5. "I Wish to Be Saved"

John 2:7-11

I RECEIVED a letter one day from a clergyman saying he had been reading my book From Death into Life, and asking for an interview. [Published by White Tree Publishing as Haslam's Journey.] He went on to say, "It is an extraordinary book, and you seem to live in an atmosphere I do not know. I would give much for an hour's talk with you. Will you allow me to call at your home in London, or at any other place you may appoint?"

I was not in London at the time I received this letter, but in Scotland. Looking over my pocketbook, I saw that in two weeks' time I was due at a town within eleven miles of this gentleman's residence. In my reply I mentioned this, and suggested that he should wait till I was in his neighbourhood.

On arriving at the place of my appointment, I wrote without delay to my correspondent, asking him to spend a day or two with me. I said, "The mission will commence on Saturday. Come over on Monday morning, and stay as long as you can."

Accordingly on Monday he arrived, just in time for the morning address or instruction on the Christian life, which during a mission is usually given to believers.

After the service he introduced himself, and told me who he was. I was pleased to see him, and his fresh and open countenance made a favourable impression upon me.

We had not walked many steps when he remarked, "I agree with every word you said in your address. Indeed, I enjoyed it very much. You kept to the Word of God with a simplicity which was charming, and gave illustrations that were very telling. Some of them were rather humorous to be sure, and I could not help smiling."

"I am glad you liked the subject," I said.

"Yes, indeed I did," he replied; "but do you mean to say that every man may know about his salvation and be assured of it?"

"Why not," I said, "if our salvation depends upon the finished work of Christ for us, and if our assurance depends upon the truthfulness of God?"

He did not answer; so I continued. "If the blood of Jesus was shed for me, and I plead it, then the destroying angel cannot touch me. And if God says, 'When I see the blood I will pass over you,' how can I entertain a doubt about it?"

"Y-e-s," he said, hesitating, "y-e-s; but does everybody know about his personal interest in the blood?"

I replied, "What is 'believing' if he does not? We do not believe about the blood, but in it. That is to say, we have a personal interest therein. We ought to know whether we are pleading the blood, and be sure that we have no other plea for acceptance. The blood was shed to take our sins away. How can we believe that our sins are taken away, and not believe that we have a personal interest in the blood?"

My friend went on assenting in a general way, but still raising fresh questions.

As we walked along, I ventured to ask him whether he had passed "from death into life." "Are you saved?" I said.

"What a question," he exclaimed, "to put to a clergyman! You are a strange man!"

"My dear friend," was my reply, "if you are a guide to others, there is the greater need for this question."

"Is it not an insult," he said, "to ask a clergyman such a question?"

"Far from that," I replied. "If you are saved, it gives you an opportunity to testify of God's goodness."

"You certainly put things in a strange way. Do I look like an unsaved man?" he said, standing in front of me "My father-in-law is the Reverend Dr.―" and saying this, he looked as confident as assurance itself.

"Well, you are a strange man," he repeated again, continuing to walk forward. "Stranger than your book − though you are very like it − very like!"

"Come, friend," I said, "why not give me a plain answer to a plain question?"

"What do you want me to say? I preach the doctrines of the Reformation as much as you do!"

I said, "It is well to preach these doctrines, but do you preach Christ?"

By this time he began to wax warm, and said rather impatiently, "I wish to be saved as much as you do."

"But, my friend," I replied, "I do not wish to be saved, for I am saved. When a man wishes for a thing, it is because he has not yet obtained it."

By this time we had reached the Rectory, and going into the drawing room, continued our discussion.

We had already talked for more than an hour, and as yet I had not received a definite answer to the simple question "Are you saved?" to which "Yes" or "No" would have sufficed.

At length, interrupting the course of argument, I could not help telling my visitor that when believers come together, they do not argue about believing or not believing, but they rather have communion one with another, and rejoice together.

At last I suggested that he should do a little thing, which he characterised as a novelty.

I said, "Here is paper, pen, and ink. Now will you write down in black and white the words 'I wish to be saved'?"

"Yes," he said; "I know a great many good men who would do that. I have no objection."

"Well, then, do so," I said.

Whereupon he took the pen in hand, and wrote the words, "I wish to be saved."

This done, I asked, "Have you any objection to sign your name to that?"

"None whatever," he replied, and signed his name in full, with a flourish.

I took up the paper, and looking at him, said, "I could no more do that than I could deny God. If I wrote that, it would imply that God had not saved me. You have committed yourself now."

He looked somewhat confused, so I continued, "I can show you a way out of your trouble. No, it is of no use arguing about these things. Will you write just one word more over what you have already written?"

"What is it?" he inquired.

"Write the word 'Lord' at the head of the paper. That will turn it into a prayer, and then God can give you an answer. 'Wishing' is like writing a letter, and sending it without any address."

After a little more contention, he took up the pen again and wrote the word "Lord."

"Now," I said, "the writing stands thus, 'Lord, I wish to be saved.'" Putting the paper down upon the table, I said, "Lord, save him. Do save him for Jesus' sake!" and we knelt down.

The very attitude of kneeling seemed to melt his heart. It is surprising how people argue while they are sitting, and more vigorously still while they are on their feet; but once down upon their knees, Satan's influence seems broken.

My friend wept in prayer and sought salvation. Better still, he found it, and we praised God together.

What a wondrous change there was in that man, now that he was rejoicing! Before this, he knew the Word of God intellectually, but when he believed it in his heart, he could not help thanking God with gladness. The water of the Word was changed into the wine of the kingdom. This is what Jesus does over and over again when sinners are united with Himself in an everlasting union. "Water" stands for the inspired Word of God, and by it our dark minds are enlightened and made wise unto salvation. But salvation itself, with the joy of it, is by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.

I could scarcely believe that this happy rejoicing man was the same person who only a short time before had been disputing and contending with me. I invited him to come to luncheon, but this he declined saying, "I have already had a good luncheon today. I have a friend in this town who thinks I am a Christian. I must go after him and see if he is one. I will go and tell him what the Lord has done for my soul."

In the evening I saw these two gentlemen come into the church and sit together. At the conclusion of the service he introduced his friend to me, as one who could praise God with him.

This clergyman returned to his church and people a changed man. His words and views were the same, but now they had a power and a purpose in them which they had not previously. His congregation could see that he was not so much preaching about a subject, as speaking to them personally about their salvation, with a joy they had never observed before.

The result of this was that the very first Sunday after his return some people came into the vestry asking the question, "What shall I do to be saved?"

There was also another result, which I must not omit to mention. In the course of the following week, a gentleman of influence in his congregation said to him, "So you have changed your preaching. I tell you plainly that style won't do here."

Thus it will ever be, while human nature continues as it is. There are those who are pricked to the heart by the preaching of the Gospel in the power of the Spirit; others who mock, saying, "These men are drunk with new wine;" and sad to say, others again, who go farther than mocking, and "gnash with their teeth."

6. Darkness in Light

John 3:3

ONCE upon a time, so runs the story, there was a great philosopher who thought that he knew everything upon every subject. Amongst other things, he supposed that he knew what a camel was like, though he had never seen one. Accordingly, he drew a picture of what he imagined a camel ought to be. After due elaboration, he completed his sketch much to his satisfaction, being perfectly convinced that he had arrived at the exact copy of a camel.

A poor man who was no philosopher, seeing this remarkable drawing, wondered whatever it could be!

The philosopher said, "That is a camel."

"A camel!" exclaimed the astonished man. "I have seen a great many on 'em in my time, but I never see'd one like that there!"

"You know nothing about it," said the great man. "A camel, sir," he continued, "is a quadruped − a mammal − has a hump on its back − and divides the hoof."

"I am sure," said the poor man, "there never was a camel like that in this 'ere world!"

But the philosopher being perfectly confident in himself, retained his own opinion and kept to his ideal − the ideal he had imagined.

So it is with a great many good and learned men who talk and write about conversion and Christian experience, though they never saw the one, or knew the other. Like the philosopher's camel, their picture or description of a spiritual man is evolved entirely out of their own imagination.

The natural man cannot discern spiritual things. He is as blind to them as a man born blind is to light and colours. A man thus born may have his ideas about colours, and he may be very positive in his opinions upon the subject, but in reality he never saw colours.

Men of high intellect may discover the great secrets of Nature, but it does not follow that any faculties of the soul will enable them to see God, or the things of the kingdom of God. To see spiritual things, a man needs to be "born again" and to have spiritual faculties.

You say, "It is not man's fault if he cannot see. If he is born blind, how and why can he be held responsible?"

The fact is, he is not responsible for blindness, but he is responsible for not obtaining light or spiritual eyesight, when he might have it for asking. It is bad enough to be blind in the midst of light, but it is far worse to remain in darkness, and to love darkness rather than light.

The philosopher's camel is a humorous idea, and it may well provoke a smile. It is nevertheless an illustration of the way in which the important and vital subject of the New Birth is but too often regarded and treated.

It is painful to think of the mistakes and the misunderstandings which exist in high and intellectual quarters upon this subject.

Mighty and great books have been written on the New Birth, which, however, do not always agree with one another. On the other hand, there are multitudes of unlearned people who are unable to philosophise upon this or any other matter, yet they know by the teaching and work of the Holy Spirit what this desirable blessing is. They rejoice in the fact that they are "born again."

They are conscious of possessing new and spiritual faculties such as they did not have before. By these they are able to see, hear, and understand old and familiar texts, so that they cannot help rejoicing in the Lord. This gift is not to be had by might or by power, but only by the Spirit of the Lord.

"What can this New Birth be?" said an earnest young man. "I would give worlds to find out."

"I do not think you will find out or attain this blessing by your plan of purchase," I said. "But God will give it as a free gift, if you will have it."

"Well," said the inquiring man, "I have prayed for it − thought about it − studied the Bible, and the writings of good men besides. Yet I seem to be farther off from it than ever."

"Very good," I replied; "that is just as it should be. I thank God!"

He looked surprised, and said, "What can you mean?"

"Why," I answered, "the very fact of your praying, searching the Scriptures, and reading the writings of good men, shows that you are in earnest about this matter. I thank God for this. I thank God also because the desire you have is not from man, but from God. I am sure He would not give you the desire which makes you so restless, if He were not preparing your mind to receive the blessing of a new life. It is not by earnest prayers and works you can be saved, but by simple faith in the Lord Jesus Christ."

"What, do you mean to say I do not believe in my Lord Jesus Christ?"

"To be plain with you, I must say you do not."

I saw a kind of sneer of contempt in the young man's face when I said this. There are many who do not mind saying things against themselves, but they do not like others to say the same things of them.

"I must be plain with you," I continued, "in very love for your soul. I tell you, you do not believe; because if you did believe, you would be rejoicing in the possession of eternal life, instead of being perplexed as you are. 'He that believeth hath everlasting life.' The believing and the having are so knit together that they cannot be separated. You would not be praying and searching for a thing, if you had it."

"How then," he inquired, "can I have it?"

"In the same way," I answered, "that anybody else has, or may have it − that is, by believing."

"What is this mysterious thing which you call 'believing'?"

"It is," I said, "a far more simple thing than you think. We read of Nicodemus, a good holy man, who was looking for the Messiah. When he heard that a man was working miracles, he must needs go out and see for himself. From what he witnessed with his own eyes, he was convinced that the stranger had come from God; for he was doing good and benevolent things which were supernatural. Moreover, they were miracles that only the Messiah of God was intended to do.

"Arguing thus with himself, in the generous simplicity of his character Nicodemus came to Jesus and said, 'Rabbi, we know that Thou art a Teacher come from God; for no man can do these miracles that Thou doest, except God be with him. Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God' [John 3:2-3]. The Lord seemed to say to Nicodemus, You have willingness to acknowledge the Messiah, and you believe evidences which are conclusive to your mind; but this is not saving faith. You need a new and spiritual birth to endow you with spiritual faculties. With these, and these alone, can you discern the spiritual character of the true Messiah. 'Marvel not, you must be born again.'"

"I am sure," said the young man, "I can say in all sincerity with Nicodemus, 'How can these things be?' I do not mean to imply that God cannot do this for me, as He has done it for others; but how is it to be done?"

I answered, "A child has to learn and assent to many things he does not understand. In the same way you must receive God's word, and say, 'Yes, Lord.' You cannot see the wind, but you know by the sound and by other effects that it is blowing. 'So is every one that is born of the Spirit.' You believe the dying Israelites were healed by a look at the brazen serpent. How was that done?"

As my young friend was silent, I went on to say, "It was done by virtue coming from the serpent of brass to the wounded man, and healing him. So it is by virtue coming from the cross of Christ that dying sinners are saved. Nicodemus was satisfied by these illustrations, and he believed and received Christ as the Messiah, the Saviour."

"I wish I could see it," exclaimed my young friend, with a longing heart.

"You dear fellow," I said, "do you believe you are a sinner?"

"Yes," he replied, "indeed I do."

"You would not like to die as you are?"

"Oh no," he said, shuddering at the very thought.

"Then look to Jesus! You are the sinner for whom He shed His blood. He died that you might live. Thank Him for what He has done for you. Look at Him on the cross. He says, 'I suffer this for you.' What would you say or do if you saw this, and heard such words as these with your own eyes and ears?"

"I do not know," he said. "I am perplexed."

"Do you not think that you would thank Him for His love in taking your place − dying that you might live. Shedding His blood that you might have forgiveness of your sins?"

"But," he said, "I feel as cold and dead as a stone. The more you speak like this, the more unfeeling I am."

"But why do you keep looking and thinking of yourself when I tell you to look at Christ? Did He die − did He shed His blood? If so, thank Him for what He did."

"Well," he said, "I must give it up. It is not for me."

"Oh yes, it is − indeed it is for you! See all your sins laid on Jesus! If God has laid them upon Him, they cannot be upon you. When you employ a barrister to plead your cause, and he wins it, you win it. Even though you feel it is too good news to be true, and may be in the depth of despair, yet when you really look at the fact that he has indeed won your cause, you rejoice. Thank the Lord for His love. Never mind your feelings for the present. Thank Him for what He did; and if you cannot thank Him as well as you could wish, thank Him as well as you can."

I could not rouse my friend to do this. So I took the words of the hundred and third Psalm;

"Bless the Lord, O my soul;

And all that is within me, bless His holy name.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits;

Who forgiveth all thine iniquities;

Who healeth all thy diseases;

Who redeemeth thy life from destruction;

Who crowneth thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies;

Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things" [Psalm 103:1-5].

"Hallelujah! It is done! There is nothing more to be done. Christ has finished His work, and God the Father has accepted it, and is satisfied. Come," I said, "thank God with me − Glory be to God, Jesus died for me."

"No, I cannot say that," he cried, with a broken voice.

"Who is to say it, if you as a sinner do not? He did not die for angels, but for sinners. It is acknowledging yourself a sinner − a sinner believing in Jesus' great name."

"Lord, help me!" he cried, falling on his knees. "Lord, I do believe; help mine unbelief."

I began to praise God, and the power of His Presence was with us. My young friend pleaded with God and thanked Him too. When he rose from his knees, looking at me, he said, "I see it all now. How is it I did not see this simple thing before?" He was amazed!

"Never mind that," I said. "Go on thanking God."

"I do − I do from my very heart."

"This is 'the gate that the righteous shall enter.' 'I will praise Thee, for Thou hast heard me, and art become my salvation' [Psalm 118:20- 21].

"'Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.' Now that you do see, you are 'born again.' Glory be to God!"

7. "Condemned Already"

John 3:18

IT was a bright spring morning. The birds were singing merrily, and all Nature was astir with new life. The same was also true in a spiritual sense among the people in a country village.

But in the midst of general joy and thankfulness, there was one young man with a sad and dejected face. Like a shrub or tree which remains leafless when all others are putting out their fresh young leaves, this poor fellow looked around on the happy ones with a wistful countenance. "It is not for me," he said. "Not for me. I am condemned already."

Knowing as I did that Scripture words only bear the meaning which belongs to them in their context, I suspected my young friend was labouring under a mistake. The whole verse from which he quoted says, "He that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only-begotten Son of God" [John 3:8].

It seemed to me that he was just the person to whom these words did not apply. He was evidently unhappy because he did not believe, but he thought it was because he was doomed to rejection. He did not understand the text aright. The enemy was deceiving him and pressing him to despair. It may be there was physical cause for his dejection, but I was sure the Lord could remove that also, if such were the case.

I sympathised with this poor young man in his trouble, for even if it arose from a delusion in his mind, it was none the less real and distressing to him. I asked if he would kindly tell me his story, and how long he had been so miserable.

I gathered from him that he had been taught in early childhood that if he was a good boy he would go to heaven, and that if he was a bad boy God would send him to hell. Such teaching is far too common, and as cruel as it is common. One of the earliest things he could remember was the following:

"If you wish to be happy, be good, be good;

If you wish to be happy, be good."

He tried to be good − tried hard; but somehow, in spite of his good resolutions, he was bad. Sometimes he was very bad. He said, "I went on in bad ways, and told lies to cover my faults, and did many sinful things besides. I was dreadfully afraid of God; and when I could not sleep, I was in terror, lest in the dark night He would take away my life. As I grew up and went in and out among other boys, they laughed at me, and told me that I was a fool to think and talk as I did. 'It won't matter,' they said, 'as long as you ain't found out. And if you meet with bad luck, then you must bear the consequences as well as you can.'

"As years went on, I grew in wickedness and sin of all kinds. I began to swear and drink too. Very often I was obliged to drink to drown my fears. My old mates told me that I talked of God and hell when I was drunk − I don't wonder if I did.

"At last the thought came to my mind, 'There is no God, or if there is, He does not care whether people sin or not. He never punishes sinners, but lets them do just as they like. It makes no difference to Him if people are good or bad, whether they keep His commandments or break them.' I tried to comfort myself with these thoughts, but it would not do. Then I used to say, 'There is no God, and no devil either;' yet all the time I believed there was − that I did − I could not help it

"Amongst my companions I was counted a merry fellow, but when I was alone I had to pay for it. One day when I was laid aside I was thinking to myself, and the words came to my mind, 'You are condemned already.' My heart sank, as if sentence was really passed upon me, and I was doomed to be lost for ever. I have never got over it − I cannot get over it. I do not believe there is any help or hope for me."

I was deeply moved by this young man's sad story, and could not help thinking how many there were like him. After listening to all he had to say, I told him that I had great hope for him. I said, "I have every hope for you. I think I can see your mistake. You set out with the wrong foot first, and you have never recovered yourself. It is a great mistake to think that God can take you to heaven for your goodness, or that you can be good at all.

"By nature we are all thorn trees, and God never looks for grapes from such. He knows well enough that a thorn tree only bears thorns; that, sinners as we are by nature, we cannot do anything but sin − our best works are all sin. If you wish for grapes, then you must get the thorn tree changed into a vine. God can make that change for you, but you cannot possibly do it for yourself."

"Then why," he said, interrupting me, "is God angry with me for not being good?"

"You dear man, God is not angry. He loves you. Instead of being angry with you, He is grieved. When you love a man, you are sorry for his fault; but when you do not love him, you say he ought to be punished."

"Ah, yes, exactly. I see now what you mean. When I was caught stealing, my poor old mother was sorry − so sorry, poor thing! − but the neighbours said that I ought to be punished, and wanted to have me sent to prison. I see what you mean."

"Yes, it is so," I said, "and God loves you with more than a mother's love."

"Eh!" he sighed with a look of sorrow and amazement, "I never thought that."

I continued, "God knows what sinners we are, and that we cannot mend or save ourselves. Therefore He sent His Son, and the Lord Jesus willingly came. He died to save us. God punished His own Son, and the chastisement of our sins was laid upon Him.

"Have you never heard that He was silent when the people were about to kill Him? 'As a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so He opened not His mouth' [Isaiah 53:7]. He was dumb because He willingly took your place and suffered in your stead. How could He willingly choose to suffer in your place, and yet cry out against His oppressors? He shed His blood to wash your sins away."

"Yes, yes," said my young friend a little impatiently, "I know all that well enough. I have heard it over and over again."

'"Well enough' indeed!" I said. "Why, you do not know it at all; for if you believed that Jesus bore your penalty, how could you be in dread of its falling upon you?"

"I do not understand you," he said. "I know and feel I am a great sinner, and that I deserve to be punished."

"My dear man, I am very thankful you do feel so. It is because I believe this, that I speak to you as I am doing. If I were in trouble because I owed a great debt, and a kind gentleman paid it, how could I believe that he had done so and remain in trouble still? Now, if you believe that Jesus died for you and in your stead, you should thank Him for it.

"The fact is, you are not condemned for your sins, but because you do not believe. That is why you are 'condemned already.' The whole verse is, 'He that believeth on Him is not condemned, but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only-begotten Son of God.'"

"Look at the book," I said, pointing at the chapter and verse [John 3:18]. "Look, it is clear enough."

He did look, and read it for himself. "Well," he exclaimed, "I never saw that before. Eh, but there's a lot of people that don't see it! Why don't you preach that out plain and strong?"

I replied, "That is just what I do preach; but there are people who hear, and do not hear. But whether people hear and understand or not, mind that you understand. And remember, it is not for your sins, but for unbelief, that you are condemned. Dare to believe that God loves you. There is nothing between God and you but love. He is willing to forgive you all your sins."

"Let me go," he said, "and think about this, and I will see you again."

The next day he came back, and told me that while he thought over the things I had been telling him, he "felt like choking." When he knelt down to pray, his heart melted and the tears began to flow. "I asked God," he said, "to forgive me the past for Jesus' sake; and," he added, "He has done it − glory be to God!"

He continued, "It is all like a dream. I have been in a kind of bad dream, and now I am awake and the sun is shining. For all that, the bad dream still haunts me sometimes, and I feel as if it were true. Yet I know it is not. It was a lying dream, and not the truth at all. I have been thinking that we ought to warn everybody against that old rhyme, 'If you wish to be happy, be good, be good;' and instead of that, teach them, 'If you wish to be happy, come to God! Come to God!' I cannot put it into poetry or put a tune to it, but that is more like the truth."

In due time, though later than some, the shrub or tree which was to all appearance dead and barren, put forth verdant leaves and bright blossoms. This young man took his place among others in the village. He no longer bore that cheerless and miserable appearance which first attracted my attention towards him, but rather burst out with more vigour, as if to make up for lost time.

Springing out of his bondage, he leaped for joy, and was the means of rousing many others by his happy testimony. Those people who knew him best could not help seeing what a change had taken place, and how different he was to what he used to be.

8. The Springing Well

John 4:14

THERE are two kinds of spiritual life − that of faith, and that of love. The former is receptive, and the latter is the life of giving. Accordingly, there are two kinds of believers − those who are striving to attain all the good they can for themselves, and those who are spending and being spent for the glory of God and the good of others.

So there are two kinds of fruit trees − the one kind rejoices in the rain and sunshine, and draws all the nourishment it can, that it may grow and expand. The other equally avails itself of these advantages, but grows that it may be fruitful, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater.

A lady who had been a very worldly woman, by the grace of God became a changed person. After this she was as eager and enthusiastic for the better life as she had been for her worldly amusements, and even more so. She was regular and attentive at the means of grace, and all ordinances of religion. She frequented services, communions, Bible readings, and prayer meetings − indeed, everything by which she could acquire knowledge for herself. In other words, she was intent upon satisfying her soul with good things.

As the woman of Samaria went to Jacob's Well to draw water to quench her thirst, so this lady went to the wells of salvation or "means of grace." Like this same woman, she too was dependent on drawing for herself, and knew of no other way of receiving the benefits she needed. Better people had done this same thing, and had taught her to do so. Often she had come to these means with a heavy heart and burdened mind, and had gone away revived and refreshed.

She very naturally thought that it was her own act of faith and devotion which had procured this relief, and no one could convince her but that it was the right, and the only right way. Some people think they can attain to salvation by their own efforts − that by continually doing, and in obedience to ordinances, they will in due time come into life. This lady, however, knew better than that. There was a time when she might have thought such a thing, but that time was passed. Now she was convinced that salvation is not by works, but by faith in the finished work of Christ.

However, though she knew that she could not grow into grace by works, yet she thought she might grow in grace by them. She depended upon works of ordinances for a continuation of her salvation, and supposed that this work was faith. If anyone had asked her, "How long does the benefit you derive last?" she would have answered, "It does not last very long. I have to come again and again, and love to do so."

That is just as it was with the woman of Samaria. She drank the water which she drew, and thirsted again. She had to come continually to draw water for herself. One day when she came to Jacob's Well as usual, she saw a Stranger sitting there, evidently weary with journeying.

Though He was a Jew, He said to her, "Give me to drink."

This poor woman had no idea who this Person was, or what He was intending to teach her. He was not thirsting so much for water as to impart to her, and to us, a great lesson.

"Jesus said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give Me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water.

"The woman saith to Him, Sir, Thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep: from whence then hast Thou this living water? Art Thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle?

"Jesus answered and said unto her, 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.

"The woman saith unto him, Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw" [John 4:10-15].

This woman of Samaria knew of no way to get water but by drawing. The Stranger, on the other hand, was speaking of living water which He would give her, only for asking.

So it was with our friend the lady here referred to. She, with multitudes of other people, had no idea that there was any other way of receiving spiritual benefits than by the use of physical means. She did not know the difference between drawing and receiving. There is indeed a great difference − as much as there is between a well outside of you, from which you draw by effort, and a well inside of you, which springs up into everlasting life. The one satisfies only for a time; the other endures and flows on for ever.

It so happened that some special services were being held upon this very subject at a church near her house. She attended these, and was much offended because she thought we were speaking against sacraments and ordinances, and were recommending people to dispense with them altogether.

She went away very indignant − as she ought to have been had such been the case − declaring that she would come no more. The next morning, however, found her in her place again. At the close of the service she came forward and expressed what was in her mind, giving vent to her indignation.

I said to her, "I will not dispute with you just now, but will you read the fourth chapter of John's Gospel, and see there for yourself the difference between coming to draw water, and leaving the water pot in order to go and tell the people about Christ. Instead of drawing from the well to quench your own thirst, you may have in you a well of water abiding there. I do not desire to take anything away from you, but to give you more. We should not be subject to ordinances; they should be subject to us."

She could not see this, and said a great deal about her views, and her thoughts about my views! I recommended her to ask the Lord about the matter.

She went home and prayed, asking God to put me right, and then to put her right; though she had little suspicion of her own need. After this she went about her household matters, and when these were arranged for the day, sat down as usual to her Bible reading. Opening the book, she began to read the Sermon on the Mount. As she read, her eyes fell upon, or rather her particular attention was drawn to, the words, "Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness."

"There," she said to herself, "what can be clearer than that? What can we have or want more than that?" Sitting back in her chair, she thought many things about dangerous people who went about disturbing the minds of the faithful.

At length, breaking from her own thoughts, she went on reading, and found she had not finished the verse, "And they shall be filled." The blessedness does not consist in the hungering and thirsting only, but rather in the being filled. "What is that?" she said to herself. A new idea had dawned upon her mind − such a one as she had never entertained before. "'Being filled!' Can we be filled in this world?"

Tears came unbidden to her eyes. She could not imagine what influence was upon her. Falling upon her knees, she was led to ask God about this filling. Her prayer was answered. She remembered the springing well of which she had been told, and immediately turned to the Gospel. Then, as if for the first time, she saw that when the woman of Samaria came to the well, she received something from another source, even from the Person who was sitting at the well.

She could see that it was not the well or means of grace which gave the blessing, but Jesus Christ, who was ever-present there, according to His promise. It was not the house of God which really satisfied her, but the God of the house. Indeed it is so. Sitting at the well, the Lord Jesus was Himself the fountain of blessing. She could not help saying, "Lord, give me this water, that I thirst not."

Her prayer was already being answered. In looking back on the past, she saw how selfish and self-reliant she had been, and how in some unaccountable way she had overlooked the Lord Himself. Christ the fountain, dwelling in us, makes the channels through which He flows. We should use the means of grace in obedience to the Lord's command. Every time we do so we should exercise faith, that from Him may come the reviving and refreshing we need for ourselves, as well as for others.

In the words of the Prophet Isaiah, we can then say, "Behold, God is my salvation! I will trust, and not be afraid; for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song; He also is become my salvation. Therefore with joy shall we draw water out of the wells of salvation" [Isaiah 12:2-3].

This lady came again the next morning, and after the service told me the story I have related above. I could scarcely believe she was the same person speaking. Indeed, she was not the same, and yet was the identical individual.

She knew so many people, she said, who were hungering and thirsting, as she had been, who were not filled. She was just longing for opportunity to tell them about the indwelling Christ − to say to them, "Come, see a man that told me all things that ever I did; is not this the Christ?"

9. "Come In"

John 5:6-8

A WIFE and daughter who had received blessing at a mission came to ask prayer for the husband and father at home. "He cannot come out," they said. "Will you pray for his conversion?"

As the mission went on, the ladies became more and more urgent for the object of their concern.

This gentleman, it appeared, had been one in a high station of life, and "well off," as it is called. "Well off" − that is to say, he did not want for anything, having a sufficiency of worldly goods; and under these circumstances he lived as if he were independent of God. There are too many who are "rich" in this sense.

This gentleman speculated with his money, and like others, sometimes he gained, and sometimes he lost. Ultimately he lost all. After this, he was obliged to work, and was fortunate in obtaining a lucrative situation which provided a sufficiency for himself and family.

It was very galling, however, to him to have to do this; and instead of humbling himself under God's hand, he tried to comfort himself by taking stimulants and smoking. The former, he said, cheered him under his misfortunes, and the latter soothed his troubled mind.

In this way he did his best to make himself as happy as he could without God, and as it were in spite of Him. "Providence," he said, "had not treated him well!" He did not see that the said "Providence" was dealing with him in love and mercy all the time. The Lord was hedging up his path, because He saw that he and his family were going wrong.

Such blind ones, who do not know God or understand that He is love, imagine their misfortunes and adversities are a cruel fate. In their blindness they think God is angry, while all the time He is dealing with them in loving kindness. Instead of yielding themselves to Him in their troubles, they go on to further acts of rebellion. Their hearts are hardened and their hopes crushed.

This gentleman was "blind" as to his perception of God's dealings with him; "halt" as to his own actions; and "withered" in his prospects and joys. He could not bear up against the troubles that had come upon him, and instead of crying to God to uphold him, he fell deeper and deeper into the habit of indulging in stimulants, and cheering himself. By this means he forgot his sorrows and disappointments for a little time, until the effect of his indulgence was over. Then his troubles came back with accumulated force, bringing with them an aching heart, and an aching head besides.

Of course he lost his situation, and in so doing brought poverty and destitution upon himself and his family. His son and daughter, who had been brought up in affluence and were well educated, had now to go out into the world in order to provide the means of support for themselves and their parents.

At length the father fell ill, and before long was unable to leave the house, so that he could not obtain his accustomed stimulants. During this illness he was brought to a better mind. He was told that if he repented and prayed, he would make his peace with God.

He did repent, as he thought; that is to say, he was sorry for his wasted life and ruined state. Because he had thus repented and repeated some prayers, he imagined he had a claim upon God, and that he ought to be saved. He heard of people being saved, and among them his own wife and daughter, and yet he was kept waiting.

Like the helpless folk, blind, halt, and withered at the pool of Bethesda, he was himself waiting to be healed, and becoming somewhat impatient at the long delay.

Many helpless folk there are of this kind. They are sorry for the past − and well they may be. They have reformed themselves − it was full time they did. They have prayed for pardon − and now, having fulfilled these conditions, they think that they deserve to be accepted of God. This is the state of mind in which I found the gentleman of whom I am speaking when first I visited him.

He was suffering from rheumatism, and consequently could not rise from his chair to welcome me. He appeared to be rather peevish and cross. He told me that he was in great pain day and night, and was seldom able either to read or think for long at a time. In the course of conversation I discovered his condition of mind, from his own statements.

At last I said to him, "Do you really think that your repentance and prayers can save you?"

"Yes," he said; "I do not know of any other way."

I replied, "But Scripture tells us that salvation is not of works."

"I know that, sir," he said hastily.

I said, "But are you not disappointed that God does not save you in answer to your prayers?"

"Yes," he replied, as if thinking, "perhaps I am."

"You must remember," I continued, "that God does not promise anywhere to save people because of their prayers as such. He offers to save sinners, as sinners, for Jesus' sake."

"I do believe in Jesus, sir, and read my Testament too!" he said sharply.

"Have you read that wonderful text, 'God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life'?"

"Yes, sir; I know that text very well."

I thought to myself, "That is just the text you do not know;" but I made no remark, for I did not care to provoke an unnecessary collision which I saw was imminent.

I continued, "Have you read, 'It is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners'? [1 Timothy 1:15]. God gave His Son to die for you. Have you thanked Him for that? Christ Jesus came into the world, and is here still to save you. Have you welcomed Him with thankfulness? He is standing before you and saying, 'Wilt thou be made whole?' What is your answer?

He said nothing, so I continued. "Do you see that salvation is not by your prayers or by your waiting, but by Jesus Christ Himself? You say, '1 cannot help myself.' God's Word is here. Why do you not believe and act upon it? One man may tell you one thing, and another man may tell you a different thing, and you may think out something else for yourself; but, after all, God's Word is that which you have to rely upon.

"God loves you, or I am sure that you would not have been brought into all this trouble."

He was silent, so I prayed with him. After that I wrote out on a sheet of paper, "God so loved me, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that if I believe in Him, I shall not perish, but have everlasting life."

"Read that," I said, "and sign it. Read it again and again, until my next visit."

The gentleman was very apologetic and grateful. He said, "You will come again soon, I hope."

I replied, "I will see what I can do. Bt in the meantime, mind you do as I have told you, and read that paper. Let the fact stated there be well considered, and let it sink down into your heart. The entrance of the Word gives light."

A few days after this I called again, and ringing the bell, waited for admittance. I had not waited long before I heard someone with a heavy footstep approaching the door. It was opened wide, and there stood my friend with a beaming face.

"Come in," he exclaimed, "thou blessed! God has blessed you to my soul."

I was taken all by surprise to see him up and walking about.

"Oh, yes," he said, "God has made me well. My burden of sin is gone, and my rheumatism is gone too. I am quite another man!"

Indeed he looked like it. His face was changed, and so was his tone of voice − indeed his whole manner.

He said, "I cannot help thanking and praising God all day."

I cordially thanked God with him, and then we walked back to the room where he used to be so dismal. "Everything," he said, "looks bright to me now; but," he continued, "the thing I wonder at most is, why did I not see this simple and plain truth before?"

"Because," I replied, "you did not look at it. People cannot see a thing they do not look at. You were like the man at the pool of Bethesda. He was waiting for something; but the Lord said to him, 'Rise and walk.' So the Lord's Word came to you. He said, 'It is finished! − I have blotted out your sins!' You believed that, and thanked Him for it, and then you found it was true. It is the simplicity of the Gospel which baffles so many people.

"Think," I said, "how long God has been striving, and with what patience and forbearance He has borne with you, and this will kindle your love and gratitude more and more. Now that salvation is come to you, let the Lord be master in your heart, and in your house too."

10. The Judgment Day

John 5:24

IT is very surprising how much of our ordinary theology is derived from the traditions of men, and not from the Word of God. We may say that Romanists, like the Jews of old, make the Word of God of none effect by their traditions; but I think other people nearer home do the same thing, in a greater degree than they are aware of.

We have many thoughts current amongst us which are taken from Milton, and we have some false interpretations of Scripture conveyed to us from childhood by nursery hymns. Besides these, we also have proverbial sayings, and many wrong and unscriptural views which have been handed down from the "Fathers."

I have not time here to go into the subject at large, but there is one important point which will illustrate my meaning. It is important not only for the cause of truth, but on account of our personal happiness.

A lady came to me one day in great disturbance of mind. She said her faith had been much shaken by something I had preached.

"What have I said," I inquired, "to cause such a disturbance?"

"Sir," she replied, "you said that the theory of the Judgment Day, as commonly received by us, is nothing but an old legend, and is not in the Word of God."

I replied, "Madam, I adhere to my statement, and I am sure you will be thankful when your eyes are open to see the truth of what I say."

"Why, sir," she exclaimed, "I have believed about that Judgment Day from my childhood as strongly as anything else I know. It seems to me that if I let that go, I should drift away into infidelity."

"You are more likely to get to infidelity," I said, "by believing what God has not written, than by believing what He has."

"Sir," she said again, getting warm, "what am I to believe?"

I replied, "I presume that you are one whose heart has been changed."

She assented.

"And," I continued, "that you are one who hears the Shepherd's voice, and you believe in the love of God the Father who sent the Saviour. Then the Lord says to you, You have everlasting life, and you shall not come into the judgment; you are passed from death into life."

"Where is that written?" said the lady, coming up to me with her Bible.

"Here it is," I said, pointing to John 5:24: 'Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth My Word, and believeth on Him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation, but is passed from death unto life.' The word 'judgment' is translated 'condemnation,' and perhaps that is why you missed it. The same Greek word is translated 'judgment' in three other places in this chapter. The Lord means to say that if you believe in His finished work upon the cross, if you believe in His being judged in your place, then your sins were judged once for all, and put away by the shedding of His blood. Do you believe that?"

"Yes, indeed I do," she replied; "but I am so afraid you will take that faith away."

Like a great many people, this lady was relying too much upon her own faith, and not enough upon Christ, the object of her faith. Our salvation does not depend upon our believing ourselves, but upon our believing or trusting in God our Saviour.

However, I did not go into that subject, but said, "If Christ was judged on the cross for your sins, do you think that God will judge you for them, now that you believe in Jesus?"

"I do not know," she said. "I never thought of that."

"That is the very thing to think of," I said. "I would rather have my faith shaken in man's theory about the general judgment, than in God's truth about the judgment of sins. Either you must give up Christ's judgment for you and your sins, or give up the old story of the general judgment, though it has grown with your growth and strengthened with your years."

It was rather a hard alternative to this lady, for, oddly enough, she clung with great tenacity to the popular belief in:

"That day of wrath, that dreadful day,

When heaven and earth shall pass away."

And, as she said, she did so love that grand old hymn:

"Great God, what do I see and hear?

The end of things created!

The Judge of mankind doth appear, on clouds of glory seated;

The trumpet sounds, the graves restore

The dead which they contained before:

Prepare, my soul, to meet Him."

Another hymn too she had loved from childhood was:

"Thou Judge of quick and dead,

Before whose bar severe,

With holy joy or guilty dread,

We all shall soon appear;

Our wakened souls prepare

For that tremendous day,

And fill us now with watchful care,

And stir us up to pray."

She could repeat these hymns without missing a word, and yet she could pass over the twenty-fourth verse of the fifth chapter of John, which I have already quoted.

She rose up to go away, but I begged she would not be in such a hurry.

"Well," she said, sitting down again, "tell me how you came to take up these views."

"I will tell you with pleasure," I said. "I was brought up in the ordinary teaching concerning the general judgment. One day a friend asked me the question, 'Do you believe the Lord Jesus is coming again?'

"I readily answered, 'Oh yes, certainly!'

"He said, 'What is He coming for?'

"I answered, 'To judge the quick and the dead.'

"'Ah!' he replied, 'I thought you would say that.'

"'What else would you have me say?'

"'There is not time now to talk about it − goodbye.'

"So he went away, leaving me in perplexity. I therefore feel for perplexed people, for I know something of their difficulties.

"After this short conversation, I came home and asked God to teach me about this subject. A few days afterwards some tracts arrived by post. Seeing that they were about the Lord's coming, I thought they were 'Plymouth Brethren' writings, and therefore put them aside.

"Later on, a gentleman brought me a little book entitled Jesus Comes Quickly, written by a Church of England clergyman. Even this I did not read. When I prayed to God to teach me, I really meant it; but somehow or other, when He sent these direct answers to my prayers, I would not receive them! Is not that a strange thing?"

The lady seemed interested, and went on nodding assent. I continued, "One morning it was laid strongly on my mind to read those tracts. I rose immediately, and dressing quickly, went to my church which was close by. There I shut myself up in the building and began to read. I had not been doing so long when my eyes were opened, and I wondered to find new meanings to old and familiar words of Scripture.

"The Lord is coming again, not firstly to judge all mankind, but to take believers up to Himself, to be with Him for ever. Paul tells us that now 'our conversation is in heaven, from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto His glorious body' [Philippians 3:21]. He says again, 'We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed' [1 Corinthians 4:51]. And in another passage, 'The dead in Christ shall rise first; then we which are alive and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we be ever with the Lord' [Thessalonians 4:16-17]."

"Then," said the lady, "is there no judgment for us at all?"

"Yes," I answered, "for our works, but not for our sins. [See 2 Corinthians 5:10.] When the Lord comes in the air, and receives us to Himself in a glorified state, He will ask, 'What have you done for Me?' This judgment is not for life and death, but for reward or none. There is no resurrection of the wicked dead at this time."

"But what is the meaning then of that passage about the sheep and goats?"

"That passage about the sheep and goats deals with altogether another subject, and refers to another people. Those who are judged at that time are called 'the nations' [or the Gentiles], a word which is never applied to the Christian Church or to the Jews. If you turn to the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, you will see that there is no resurrection of the dead mentioned there. They are all living people who are summoned to appear before the Lord at that time. Besides, you observe these people are saved or punished for their works − we are not."

"Certainly not," the lady remarked. "We are saved for Christ's work alone. When will the wicked dead rise then?" she asked.

I answered, "At the end of the millennium, or a thousand years after the resurrection of believers. [See Revelation 20:5-7.] Then the great white throne will be set, and all the wicked dead will stand before God in resurrection bodies, to be judged and punished. [See Revelation 20:11-14.] There are three portions of Scripture, namely, 2 Corinthians 5:10; Matthew 25:31-33; Revelation 20:11-14. These refer to three distinct judgments, which have no connection with one another. They concern different people and occur at different times."

"If this is true," said the lady, "what about the Apostles' Creed, which says that Christ is coming to judge the quick and the dead?"

I said, "The article in that Creed makes a general statement. It is true that Christ will judge the quick and the dead, but not at the same time. The apostle Paul says, 'The Lord shall judge the quick and the dead at His appearing and His kingdom' [2 Timothy 4:1]. This means just what I have said − that the Lord will judge the former when He appears, and the latter at the end of His kingdom"

The lady was hesitating still. She was so attached to the old teaching in which she had been brought up, that she could not promise, as she said, "to take up new ideas then and there." She did promise, however, to pray about the matter.

I said to her, "If you really mean your prayers, I know what the answer will be; not only to you, but to all others who pray for true guidance upon this interesting and most important subject."

11. "I Will Never Come Again!"

John 5:25

THERE are two senses in which we apply the word "hear." One is when the sound of words comes to you, whether you will or no; and the other, when hearing the word, you obey or do it. The one brings responsibility, the other blessing. During a long experience I have grieved over multitudes who have heard the Word, and gone away without doing it.

A lady once came to a service where the Gospel was preached not in word only, but in demonstration of the Spirit and in power.

The question may be asked, "But how do you know this?"

I answer, Because in the first place, the address was not a mere exposition of the passage of Scripture, but a personal application of it to the people. Secondly, the Lord was manifestly present by the power of the Spirit to apply the Word, and He did so. Many remained to the after-meeting to give themselves to God, and others stayed behind to say that they had done so. But while the rest of the congregation were leaving the church, the lady to whom I refer was talking loudly, and expressing her disapproval of what she had heard.

Lady as she was, she did not conceal her feelings, but on the contrary, freely expressed her disgust at people remaining behind to "confess," as she said, "to that priest" She "would do no such thing" − she "did not call that preaching" − she "did not agree with a word of it," − and so forth.

Hearing some of her remarks, I sent a mutual friend to bring her back to speak with me. She would not hear of this for a moment.

"No, indeed," was her reply. "I have already had enough of that kind of talk!"

My friend, upon her own responsibility, made an appointment with this disturbed lady to see me the next morning.

Accordingly, at the time named, as she did not come to me, I went to her. She was sitting upright in her chair, and scarcely disguised her displeasure at my coming to see her.

I said, "I think I saw you at the service last evening."

"Yes," she said, "I was there."

"Your cough was very troublesome, I am afraid. I noticed how you tried to keep it down. I can generally tell when people cough unnecessarily, and when they cannot help themselves."

"Yes," she said, "my cough was very bad, and it has troubled me all through the night."

"I hope you will be well enough to come to the service this evening," I said. "A cough like yours does not disturb me in the least."

"No, indeed," she replied, "I have had enough of your teaching. I will never come again!"

"'Never,'" I repeated. "'Never' is a long word for finite and changeable creatures to use. You do not know what you will do."

"I beg your pardon, sir," she said peevishly; "I do know what I shall do."

"But why are you not coming again to the services?" I asked.

"Because I do not approve of your doctrine."

"To what doctrine do you refer?"

"I would rather not be questioned by you. I have quite made up my mind."

"I cannot imagine," I said, "what it is that has made you so angry. You believe in Jesus Christ, do you not?"

"Of course we do. We are not Hindus, or Chinese, or Jews. We all believe in Jesus! I should like to know what you take us for? One would think you were speaking to heathens!"

"But," I asked, "do you really or only nominally believe in Jesus?"

"Really," she said, "and positively. Of course we do."

"People do not savingly believe in Jesus 'of course.' It is not of course, but by grace. It is by the work or operation of the Holy Ghost."

"Well," she said, turning her head away, "I am quite satisfied!"

Notwithstanding this, I went on to speak to her of a dead faith and a living faith. I said, "You have heard the truth, and you assent to it in your mind."

"Yes, I do," she said, turning round again and facing me. "I do believe it."

I continued, "Assenting to a truth is not faith. You may assent to historical statements and to facts narrated on credible authority. In this way you may believe that Jesus is the Son of God, and that He also is the Lamb of God who shed His blood. You may also believe that without the shedding of blood there could be no remission."

Interrupting me she said, "I do believe all that; of course I do."

"But more than that," I said, "you may believe that we must be born again or we shall never see the kingdom of God."

"Yes, I believe that too, and agree to it thoroughly."

"Well, and do you know that the devil believes as much as that, and in the same way? Yet his knowledge does not save him, or his believing bring him pardon. He believes and trembles; you believe and are angry. You ought to have more faith, and of a better kind than the devil!"

She made no reply, so I went on to say, "There is a dead faith and a living faith. The woman we read about in the Gospels who believed that Jesus could heal her, did not remain at home and believe it, but came out to see Jesus. She found a crowd around Him − there always is a crowd round Jesus. But it is not there to hinder people from coming to Him, but rather to try their faith.

"This poor weak woman, who had suffered many things, and spent 'all her living upon physicians,' came tremblingly up to the crowd. She made her way slowly, passing one and another, until she came in sight of the hem of the Lord's garment. She said within herself, 'If I may but touch His garment, I shall be whole.' One more struggle and effort, and she was there within reach. She touched it, and immediately felt that she was healed."

As the lady was condescending to listen, I went on to finish the story. I said, "The Lord Jesus felt that virtue was gone out of Him to heal. Turning round, He said, 'Who touched Me? Peter and they that were with Him said, Master, the multitude throng Thee and press Thee, and sayest Thou, Who touched Me? − we are all touching Thee. And Jesus said, Somebody hath touched Me: for I perceive that virtue is gone out of Me.'

"Observe, it is not the eager thronging and pressing, but the intentional touch of faith that brings healing. The astonished woman, finding she could not be hid, came forward and confessed what she had done. The Lord said to her, 'Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace.' This is living faith.

"You see, faith does not consist in knowing what to do, but in doing what you know. Both kinds of faith, the dead and the living, come by hearing; but saving or living faith consists in doing the Word you have heard."

The lady did not speak or seem inclined to argue anymore, therefore I proposed prayer. She knelt down with me, and I asked the Lord to enable her to believe with a living faith, and so to hear that she might come into spiritual life. When I had concluded, she remained upon her knees in earnest, silent prayer. I did not move for fear of disturbing her, but kept in the same position, silently pleading with God.

After some minutes, she sprang to her feet and said, "I see it all! Oh, I do thank you so much!" − putting out her hand to shake hands with me.

"No," I said, slowly rising from my knees, "let me hear you thank the Lord first, and let me know, if you will, what it is you thank Him for."

"I do − I do thank Him," she said, "for saving me. How long I have been anxious to know what to do! I was never satisfied with myself!"

After she had thanked God for saving her, I accepted her thanks, and we shook hands.

"They that hear God's Word in this sense 'shall live.' This is the Lord's Word, and it cannot be broken. We use the word 'hear' in the same way with reference to God. We say, 'He who made the ear, can He not hear everything?' Yes, He can; but when He defers answers to prayer we say, 'He has not heard my petition;' or when He answers, we say with the Psalmist, 'I called upon the Lord, and He heard me.' So it is. God knows those who hear in the one sense, and those who hear in the other."

"Yes, yes," she said; "I see what you mean. Will you pray for me, that He may use me to tell others about this?"

"Certainly," I replied; and we knelt down again and made the request. I assured her, from God's Word, that He was more willing to answer that prayer than we were to make it. "Expect an answer," I said. "It is sure to come."

It did come, and God not only answered prayer then, but He has been using this lady ever since. She says that she finds so many people who are where she used to be, and who assent to God's truth in their heads, when they have not received it into their hearts to the saving of their souls. Oh, there is so much death, and so little faith!

However, she is not discouraged by this sad fact, but rather stimulated to work all the harder. Her heart's desire is to bring souls to "hear" the voice of Jesus, that they may be awakened to see themselves, and then be led on to see Him, whom to know is life eternal.

This is the purpose of God in saving us − that we may at once, as this lady did, begin to work for Him, and bear our testimony to His grace and goodness.

12. "The Railway Guide"

John 5:39

JOURNEYING one day in a train, I observed a gentleman consulting Bradshaw's Railway Guide. Apparently he was not searching for any special route or making out a connection of trains, but quietly turning over the leaves of the book with complacency and satisfaction.

He had a cheerful expression upon his countenance, and looked as if he desired to be communicative. In England we too often lose good opportunities of usefulness by not speaking a little more to one another on our journeys.

I remarked, "That Bradshaw is a wonderful book."

"Yes, it is, it is, sir," said my companion, "a very wonderful book. I consider it is just like the Bible."

I hesitated, wondering why it should be so. He spoke again, and said, "Do you not agree with me?"

I replied, "I must admit my ignorance. Why is it like the Bible?"

"Why, sir, this book is taking me to a place I was never in before in my life. So the Bible is taking me to heaven!"

"But does the Bible do that?" I asked. "And does that book take you to your destination?"

"Yes, sir, certainly it does, by giving me instruction how to get there; and so the Bible tells me the way to go to heaven."

"I must beg your pardon," I said. "That book only tells you of this train, and it is this train which is taking you to the place you desire. You might have remained at home studying that book and the maps too, and have ascertained exactly the way, the time of starting, and the hour of arrival; but this knowledge would not have taken you anywhere. If you had not come and put yourself into the right train according to the book, you would not have been thus far on your way. So it is with the Bible. All the knowledge you can derive from it will not save you here, or take you to heaven hereafter."

"I beg to differ from you, sir," he said, greatly animated. "What are you? Are you a High Church priest? You go by the traditions of the Fathers, I suppose, instead of the Bible."

"I think you misunderstand me," I said kindly. "I mean to say that God did not give the Bible to save us, but He gave His own Beloved Son. The Bible tells you about Christ; and if you go to Him, He will give you salvation and take you to heaven."

"I don't agree with you, sir," said the gentleman impatiently.

"I am sorry for that," I continued, "but I am sure I am right. Just as this train is carrying you to your journey's end, so Christ carries those to heaven who believe and follow Him."

"I cannot agree with people who devalue the Bible, sir. I suppose you vote for prohibiting the Bible in schools!"

"Far from that," I said, "I recommend everybody I can to read God's Word; and more than that, to follow its teaching."

"Well, then, sir, what is it you do mean?"

"I mean to say that the Bible does not save. It is Christ who saves, and He alone. Paul says to Timothy, 'This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners' [1 Timothy 1:15]."

"Of course He did, sir. The Bible says so, does it not? The Bible also says that Timothy, to whom Paul wrote those words, knew the Scriptures from a child."

"Yes, he did," I replied calmly, in the hope of soothing my companion who was waxing somewhat warm. "I am glad you have referred to Timothy. He had a privilege that was not common in his day, though it is in ours. From a child, we are told, he knew the Holy Scriptures, which were able to make him wise unto salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus [2 Timothy 3:15]. That is all the Scriptures can do − make you wise or intelligent about the subject of salvation, just as that railway book informs you about trains. But observe, salvation is by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ."

My friend was getting restless, but I went on saying, "You see that salvation is not by knowing the Word, but by doing it. Timothy was not saved by knowing the Scriptures as a child, but by believing the preaching of the apostle Paul when he was grown up."

"I never heard such doctrine, sir!"

"Is it not time you did, then?" I said, smiling. "No doubt that Timothy, with his privilege of being able to read, searched the Scriptures like the other Jews, because that in them he thought he had eternal life."

"Yes, sir, of course he did."

"If you look at this passage in John's Gospel, you will see that the Lord is reproving the Jews for doing this, and pointing out their mistake."

"No mistake, sir, at all. The Lord Jesus commanded the Jews to search the Scriptures."

"I beg your pardon," I said, "that is just what He did not do. He said to them, 'Ye search the Scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they that testify of Me. And ye will not come to Me, that ye might have life' [John 5:39-40]. You see that eternal life, or the way to heaven, is not by the Bible, but by Jesus Christ."

"You perplex me. Pray, may I ask to what school of thought do you belong? I have always looked upon the Bible as the book to guide me to heaven. It gives me pictures of heaven, and shows me the way thither. The people who are going there are guided by the Bible as the Word of God. It is like a chart, sir, by which I can find my way simply and well."

I asked him quietly, "Do you really think that God intended you to find your way to heaven by yourself? Did He not send His Son to ransom you from your prison house, and then to lead you back to Himself?"

"What prison house do you allude to, sir? Prison house indeed!"

"Yes," I answered, "by nature we are in bondage to the devil"

"Devil indeed!" he exclaimed. "Speak for yourself, sir!"

I said, "As children of Adam, we needed to be redeemed. Now that we are redeemed, we need to be brought from the power of Satan to God, to receive forgiveness of our sins."

As he made no reply, I ventured upon an illustration. I said, "If you had a child held in bondage in a foreign land, I think you would go and ransom him; and I do not think you would leave him there to be apprehended again, but would take him by the hand to lead him home. So Christ died to ransom us; and He rose again, and lives to lead us home."

"Then, sir, what is the use of the Bible? According to your teaching, we may as well leave it on the shelf."

"Nay, my friend. I recommend you to read your Bible; the more diligently the better. God has given you the Bible, not to supersede Christ, but to tell you about Him and His salvation. It is by the Word of God you may distinguish the Saviour and His truth, from false teachers and teachings which are not of God. The railway guide tells you of the train, and it also tells you of the station at which we are now stopping. By this we can verify the train, and be assured it is the right one."

"I must speak well of the bridge which carries me, sir. I was a frivolous, thoughtless man till I took to reading my Bible. I assure you it has made a different man of me. I love my Bible, and my Church too. I cannot bear to hear anything against it. I am very curious to know what religion you profess, sir."

I answered, "If you will excuse me, I cannot help telling you from God's Word that you will never get to heaven if you are guiding yourself there − I mean, if you have set out by reforming yourself and changing your own life. The Bible does not tell us to turn over a new leaf and live a better life, but says you 'must be born again' [John 3:7]. The fact is, you must have a new life before you can live it!"

He could scarcely sit still while I was making this long speech. "Born again!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean that as by natural birth you belong to the family of Adam, so by spiritual birth you belong to the family of God. There is as much difference between your taking ship to cross the Atlantic, and your trying to swim across yourself, as between your being 'born again' and your going to heaven by your own reformation. By the latter you will never get there!"

"I do not believe you, sir," he said, clutching hold of his Bradshaw. "I believe this book is like the Bible, sir; and I mean to adhere to it for all you can say to the contrary. You have not yet told me what Church you belong to."

"I belong to the Church of England," I said, "and I love my Bible as much as you do. I beg of you, do not cease to read your Bible. But do not stop there. Go on to know Christ Himself as your Saviour. I repeat again, it is not the Bible that will save you, but faith in the Lord Jesus Christ."

"I cannot agree with you, sir. I wish you good morning."

So saying, he took up his rug and bag, and went away.

Alas, what numbers of people pass on their way like this, without taking the Lord for their Saviour and Guide. Some believe, as this gentleman did, in their Bible; some in their benevolent works; others in their Church; and they are one and all indignant, as the Jews of old were, when the necessity of believing first in the Lord Jesus Christ is proposed to them.

The Lord spoke plainly and solemnly enough to the Jews who thus rejected Him when He said, "I go My way; and ye shall seek Me, and shall die in your sins; whither I go, ye cannot come: for if ye believe not that I am He, ye shall die in your sins" [John 8:21, 24].

13. "What Do You Feed Them Upon?"

John 6:35

TRAVELLING by railway one day, the train stopped at a place of happy memory where I had had a very successful mission. While we were waiting at the station, I looked out of the window of the carriage to see whether I could recognise any friends; when who should come into sight but the Vicar himself!

I thought he saw me, and felt sure he would come into the same compartment, but to my astonishment he passed by, looking elsewhere for room. Not finding any, and the train being on the move, he was obliged at last to enter the carriage in which I was. Taking a seat at the opposite window, he spent a long time arranging himself, then he drew a book from his pocket and commenced reading. It was evident he did not wish to recognise me.

The next time the train stopped I made a remark, and asked if his name was so-and-so. "Yes," he answered quietly, "that is my name."

"What is the matter with you?" I inquired. "We were good friends when we last parted. Has anything happened since?"

"No, nothing," he replied, "nothing," keeping his eyes fixed on his book.

I thought that perhaps he had heard something which had alienated him from me, but I could not find out what. At length I said to him, "How is the work prospering in your parish?"

"Work!" he exclaimed with disgust. "Work! It was all excitement. There is no 'work'!"

"Indeed!" I remarked with surprise. "What then has become of those people who were brought to God in the mission?"

"They are all gone back," he said.

"Gone back!" I repeated "Gone back! Where to?"

He said, "I don't believe they were converted at all!"

"Not converted!" I answered. "I know better than that. I could give you the names of some of your people who were converted to God as surely as I am. What have you been feeding them upon?"

"Why, I preach the Gospel to them, sir," he said, again taking up his book as if he wanted no more conversation.

"But," I continued, "tell me what Gospel you preach to them."

"There is only one Gospel," he said sullenly.

"Yes, indeed, that is true; but in that Gospel there is a part for sinners and a part for believers."

"I never heard of such a thing."

I could not help thinking to myself, "It is time you did then." However, I did not express my thoughts, but asked the question, "Do you preach the same Gospel to believers that you do to sinners?"

"What do you mean me to understand by that?"

"I mean to say, do you preach to believers that Christ died for them?"

"Yes, certainly I do. What else would you have me preach?"

"But," I answered, "they know that already, and have derived benefit from His death. The Gospel for believers is not that Christ died; but that He rose from the dead, and has all power in heaven and on earth so that He is able to keep them, and use them for His service and glory."

By this time my friend was yielding a little, but I could see it cost him a struggle to shake off the prejudice he had against me. In a somewhat different tone, though scarcely looking at me, he remarked, "I do not altogether take in your meaning. Will you explain yourself more clearly?"

I said, "Christians should be witnesses of a living Christ. We keep the first day of the week because Christ rose from the dead."

"Yes," he said thoughtfully, "yes, to be sure, that is right; we do that." Then he stopped.

I said, "When sinners are brought from death into life, they stand upon resurrection ground. There they need a living Saviour to help and guide them. If you do not teach them about such a Deliverer, they will try to keep and help themselves. The result of this will be failure, for they will either become legal, or else give up trying."

Looking up at me at last, he said, "I suppose that is why some of my people are gone back. They tell me they cannot help it; that they have done their best, and cannot do more; that they are not so happy as they were; their peace is gone, and they have more temptations now than ever they had before."

"Yes," I said, "it is so. If you and I believe in our peace and joy, it will fade away. We should believe in Him who gave us peace. Besides this," I said, "young converts are exposed to the scorn of the world, the opposition of the flesh, and the hostility of Satan. Under such circumstances, what can they do against the laughter and sneers of their worldly companions? What against the old Adam which is in them making war against the Spirit; or what against Satan's great power?"

My friend did not speak, so I continued. "Young converts can no more stand by themselves, than sinners can save themselves. They can no more stand alone than your walking stick. It must be held up, and so must they."

I saw that by this time my friend was getting interested. He put his book aside and drew nearer to me, for the noise of the train hindered his hearing.

"I never thought of all this," he said. "Tell me more about it."

I went on to say, "We are apt to be taken up with the gift of salvation, and to forget the Giver. I mean that young converts are more or less taken up with their joyful feelings. It is well that they have such, and that they should express them too; but they should be taught that this is not all that is needful. If they do not go on and learn to look up from the gift to the Giver, they will naturally be discouraged when their happy feelings subside.

"Some people make a desperate effort to sustain themselves, and have moral power enough to continue their efforts. Others give up for want of energy and application to persevere. But this is all self-effort, in order to maintain themselves in a happy frame; whereas, if they are taught about a living Shepherd who can keep and feed them, they would cease from their own works, and trust Him."

"Then," said the clergyman, "would you have them sit still and do nothing?"

"Far from that," I replied. "None are so active or so useful as those who know the rest of faith. This resting in a living Christ is not inactivity, but a ceasing from anxiety, and being the more free to do the Master's will. The Lord says to all who are labouring like this, 'Come unto Me, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and you shall find rest.'

"Young converts are like babes who need to be fed. They want the sincere milk of the Word, that they may grow thereby. Besides this, they need bread and meat. The former represents the Lord Jesus, who came down from heaven to be our sustenance; the latter is for our strengthening. The Lord's meat was to do the Father's will. It is our meat to do the Master's."

"I wish you would come again and feed us," said my friend.

"There is no need for that," I answered, "for if you will let the Lord feed you, He will use you to feed your people. The Lord gave the bread to the disciples, and they distributed to the multitude who were sitting down. My advice to you is that first you should teach them to trust in a living Christ, in the same way that they trusted the bleeding Lamb of God; then give them the Word of God."

"I do give them Bible teaching," said the Vicar.

"Thank God for that; but by Bible teaching I do not understand merely imparting a general knowledge of the book, but making a personal application of the Word. Take, for example, the twenty-third psalm, and show believers that the Lord Jesus is the all-sufficient Shepherd. Then draw them to appeal to Him to be their Shepherd. Do not let them rest until they can say individually, 'The Lord is my Shepherd.' Point out to them that under His mighty care they can never want for any good thing.

"Again, take the history of Moses and show how the Lord sent him to bring the children of Israel out of Egypt. Or take the Acts of the Apostles and show how God endued uneducated men with power for His work. True working for Christ is the believer's rest, as well as meat. This," I said, "is the kind of feeding which is necessary after a mission."

The Vicar became more and more interested, and pressed me so much to pay him a second visit, that I could not refuse. I therefore arranged with him to do so.

On my arrival, I found the people just in the condition I expected − not dead, but starved and failing for want of teaching.

The question may be asked, Had they no church services there, and no holy communion? Yes, indeed they had, but the mere attendance upon these ordinances cannot satisfy a living soul. There must also be the meeting with God Himself in His house, and the feeding upon Christ in the heart by faith.

Christ is not only the Resurrection of dead souls, but the Life of living ones; for God does not expect believers to sustain their own life, anymore than He expects sinners to save themselves. They need to know the Risen Christ, and to abide in Him.

Some may inquire, What do you mean by this? There is but one effectual way to obtain the answer to such a question, that is by doing what many of these people did. They gave themselves to the Lord as saved souls, to be kept; and the effect of this was that they entered into a joy and liberty they had never known before.

The Vicar and many of his people went forward from this time with a renewed life, and declared that the change they experienced was even greater and more manifest than that at their conversion.

It is only those who have experienced the joy of having an indwelling Christ who can know what it means. He is the fountain of health and strength, and the power of Christian life and usefulness.

14. The Old Colonel

John 6:37

NOT very long ago I met an old officer who had spent a great portion of his life abroad in active service. He had been accustomed to such a busy and responsible position, that when he retired, he was, as he said, "Like a fish out of water." He did not know what to do or how to employ himself.

He had been accustomed to command and to have everyone bow down to his will. It was not so now, for his friends and neighbours thought that they would like to have their will and their views too, sometimes. This fretted and chafed the old autocrat greatly.

He told me that all at once it came into his mind to take up the Bible for a study. He did so; and the more he knew about that wonderful book, the more interested he became. Some people study the Bible, not to find Christ, but to prove their identity with the lost tribes. Some work hard to make out the theory of non-eternity of punishment; but my friend was very determined against such. His speciality was the subject of election.

The Bible is indeed a wonderful book. In some respects it is like its Author; for if a man prays to God with an idol in his heart, he gets an answer according to his idol. So if a man goes to the Bible with a special theory, he can prove that theory to a nicety. To do this, he must of course have a glorious contempt for contexts. He must be like the man who proved without doubt that the Lord Jesus recommends us all to be suicides; for it is written in the Word that Judas went and hanged himself, and in another place the Lord said, "Go thou and do likewise!"

Our friend thought he saw clearly in the Word of God that only the elect were to be saved, and consequently all the rest of mankind were doomed to be damned. He firmly believed that the elect were like steel filings, and others as common dust which could not respond to the magnet. As a natural consequence, he declared that it was a very wicked thing to invite sinners to come to Jesus. He said, "They cannot come, sir. It is impossible!"

I was invited to preach in the church which this gentleman frequented. I did not notice him in particular, though I observed someone erect and very restless while I was preaching; so much so, that I expected every moment he would burst out and say something. I had reason to know afterwards that if I had been preaching anywhere else but in a church, he would have stopped me with a voice of authority; but he had respect to the house of God.

After the service he came up to me and said, "How can you invite sinners to come, in such an awful way as you do? You do not seem to know, sir, that the Gospel is for God's children only."

"Oh, yes," I replied, "I know there is a Gospel for believers only; but there is a Gospel for sinners too. One, is to invite sinners to come to the cross of Jesus for salvation, and the other is to urge upon living ones to come to a risen Christ."

"Pshaw!" exclaimed the gentleman, "all human invention, sir. Human invention, I say. Not in the Bible anywhere. You do not know the five points, sir."

"I know what you mean," I said; "but when George Whitefield was asked why he dared to invite sinners to come, his answer was, 'Because I find they do come.'"

The old officer was very overbearing and positive. "That sermon of yours," he said, "distressed me very much. I could scarcely sit still under it!"

I put the question to him, "Is it not scriptural to say, 'Whosoever will may come'? And again, 'Come, for all things are now ready,' and 'Ye will not come unto Me that ye might have life'?"

"Sir, I say no one can possibly come, excepting God draws him."

"Yes," I said, "I agree to that; but do you mean to say that no one can come till God fetches him; that 'come' does not mean come, but wait till you are brought? No," I continued, "I believe, and I am sure it is true, that 'whosoever will may come.'"

He opened his Bible to search for something; and while he was doing that, I said, "Outside the door of salvation is written, 'Whosoever will, let him come,' and inside the same door is written, 'Elect according to the foreknowledge of God.'"

"Ah, yes," said my friend eagerly; "that is what I mean. Where is that text?"

I said, "Wherever it is, it is a text only for those who are inside, and none but such can read it."

"You are an Arminian, sir − that is what you are."

"And," I rejoined, "I cannot call you after the name of Calvin, for I do not believe that good man held the one-sided narrow views you profess. He believed in a bird having two wings to fly with. Fancy a bird with one wing, poor thing, fluttering and screaming and making a dust. He believed in an arch having two bases or pillars, and a boat with two oars."

"I wish you would come and take luncheon with me," said the Colonel, "and I will teach you better."

"Thank you," I replied; "I will come with pleasure. But let us have luncheon before we begin to talk, and let us talk for one hour only. If you do not convince me in that time, you may give me up."

This officer was a warm-hearted, hospitable man, and received me kindly. For a little while he entertained me with ordinary conversation; but I saw he had an array of books all ready to floor me with in due time!

Luncheon over, he said, "Now, sir, to the war! Here is my sword," putting down his Bible on the table. Besides this, he brought in several other books.

Looking over some of them, I said, "These books prove nothing, for they are all of one kind, and have been drawn one from another. We need not go through them all. Boswell the biographer upon one occasion gave Dr. Johnson a book to read. The great man put it up to his face as near his eyes as he could, and turning over a few pages, read a portion here and there, and then quietly put the book down.

'"Well, sir,' said Boswell, 'you have not formed your opinion of that book yet, have you?'

"'Oh, yes,' was the answer; 'the book is bad, sir.'

"'How is that?' said the former. 'You have scarcely read a page of it.'

"'There is no occasion to do that,' was the reply. 'If one mouthful of a leg of mutton is tainted, I do not need to eat the whole leg to find it out!'

I asked the Colonel to read me one of his favourite texts.

"That I will," he answered.

Putting on his spectacles, he at once took up a book with which he was familiar, and commenced to read, "All that the Father giveth Me shall come to Me; and him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out" [John 6:37].

I had waited patiently for twenty minutes to hear this discourse, which he evidently thought was unanswerable. "There!" he said, "What do you think of that?"

I replied, "Let the context decide. In the chapter from which the text is taken the Lord is speaking about feeding believers. He says, 'He that cometh to Me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on Me shall never thirst.' He is not speaking about election here, or salvation either. Again, those whom the Father gives to Christ are not the elect, as such, but sinners who have believed on Jesus for salvation. No doubt they were of the elect, or they would never have been saved; but they were not saved because they were elect, but because they believed. This is the only way in which we can find out who are the elect.

"Sinners who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and are saved, are those who are given by the Father to Christ as the purchase of His blood. Such as these, if they are real and true, come to the risen Christ to keep them. Believing in the Lamb of God who shed His blood, they become lambs of God's flock. Therefore they come to the risen Christ as a Shepherd, to be taken care of. What else can a defenceless lamb do in this world of enemies? Their Shepherd, Christ, will surely and gladly receive such, and in no wise cast them out. You understand, it is not for salvation, but for keeping or feeding, that Christ as the Shepherd takes charge of the lambs."

The old gentleman listened quietly, as if some new thought was working in his mind. In course of conversation it appeared that he had never come as a sinner to Christ for salvation, but had taken it for granted that he was, or would be saved, because he believed in his own election. The idea of coming to Jesus as a lost sinner, when he had given himself out to be one of the elect of God, was certainly very humbling, and he was unwilling to entertain it.

He threw himself back in his chair and said, "What does this mean − 'Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated'?"

I answered, "God does not hate the person of any sinner, but on the contrary He loves all men. What it means is that He loves the character of Jacob even though his faith is stumbling, and that he hates the character of Esau even though he is generous and candid. If profane people like Esau would give up their profaneness and return to the Lord, He would receive them."

"Well, then," said the Colonel, "what do you say about God hardening Pharaoh's heart and drowning him in the sea?"

"Why," I said, "God hardens every heart that will not submit to Him and receive the Gospel. There is nothing more hardening than the Gospel. It is the savour of death unto death, if it is not the savour of life unto life. Pharaoh defied God, and said, 'Who is the Lord, that I should obey Him?' There is only one way in which God can show such people who He is. He is a God delighting in mercy and ready to pardon, but to those who refuse His mercy, He must needs be a God of justice."

I begged the Colonel to give up his favourite subject for the present, and come to God as a sinner. "Ask Him," I said, "to show you yourself, and then to show you Himself. Then, when you are saved, you will know of your election, and that on a firm basis. Remember that Christ Jesus did not die for the elect, but for sinners; and it is only as sinners we can come to Him for salvation."

15. The Major

John 7:37-38

HOW little we know what may, or may not, be the result of a sermon! Preaching in Scotland one stormy wet day, I was much hindered by the manifest inattention of the sparse congregation, and the stormy wind which rattled the windows. Even the opening of the door for some late-comer drew away the attention of the people. The few who were in the church were scattered about, one here, and two or three there, all over the large building.

I had been speaking upon the responsibility of believers − that God intends that all saved people should influence and draw others to the same salvation. I said, "When the Lord returns and calls us to Himself, He will not ask the question, 'What did your minister or pastor do for Me?' but 'What have you done?'"

It was a long hour, at least to me, during which the service lasted, and I was not sorry for the conclusion. Nor were others, if I may judge from their hasty departure.

A retired major, who happened to be on a visit to some friends in the neighbourhood, came to church that day.

When most of the people had left, he came up to me and said, "I never heard all that about believers before. I have been a Christian for several years, but I did not know that God expected me to do any special work."

As far as I could gather, this dear man had some idea that as soldiers did the fighting for civilians, so in the same manner ministers did the spiritual work for their congregations.

I said to him, "Fancy a company of your regiment sitting down in line on the battlefield, while their brave major went out with the captain to fight the enemy!"

"Yes," he said, "that does sound funny, but how in the world am I to do your clerical work? I was never brought up to it, anymore than you are to soldiering."

"Oh," I said, "it does not want a college training or a bishop's ordination to fit you to be a witness for Christ. Far from that. I fear in many instances the college training proves a hindrance, though it should be a help. I have known a good many men who were very able Evangelists and workers for God, until they went to college.

"There they learned so much that it took the edge off their sword, and gave them four or five points to their arrows instead of one. Their addresses now are very clever, but quite ineffectual to win souls, for they wrap up the simple message of the Gospel with so much verbiage. Their learning ought to have feathered their arrows and put a keen edge to their swords, instead of the reverse.

"Let me ask you, Major, when you were first converted, were you led to write to anyone upon the subject, or did you pray for any of your friends?"

"Certainly I did," he answered. "I wrote to a number of my worldly friends, and prayed for them too."

"Very good," I said. That was the Holy Spirit prompting you, and showing you practically what to do. That is what you should have continued to do. We are saved to be witnesses of the fact of salvation, and of the power and willingness of God to save."

"Well, now," said the Major, with animation, "it was one of your cloth who forbad and discouraged me in doing this. He told me that if I wished to do that kind of work, I ought to leave the army and go to college to prepare for ordination."

"For the honour of the cloth," I said, "I must protest against that man's advice, whoever he was. Many men have left the army to become clergymen, and many more, from other secular callings, have done the same. If the Lord led them to do that, well and good; but however that may be, God wants witnesses in every profession and calling. He wants witnesses in the pews as well as in the pulpit."

The Major said, "You are warming me up to what I used to feel before I was discouraged. How can I get back to my first usefulness? I remember it used to be a great joy to me to write to friends and speak to them about Jesus."

"You can do this very easily," I said. "Ask God to forgive the past, and give you His grace for the future. Say to Him, 'Lord, what would You have me to do?' When we are converted to God, we have a work to do. The apostle Paul says, we are 'created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them' [Ephesians 2:10].

"Ask God," I said, "what fruit you should bear, or what work He has created you for. He will certainly answer you, and put you into your right place. Then you will find yourself as happy and as free as a bird in the air or a fish in the water. The reason why some Christians are so miserable and full of doubts is because they have not found out their life work. They are like fish out of water, or like a bird in your hands instead of flying in the air."

"Let us have prayer together," said the Major, as if he had determined to lose no more time.

After I had prayed, he was about to rise from his knees, when I put my hand upon him, and said, "Nay, my friend, you must pray too."

Turning round and looking at me, he said, "I can no more do that than I can fly."

"You dear man," I answered, "just kneel down and tell God that, and it will touch His heart more than it has touched mine."

He was shy more than unwilling, and ashamed more than unable. After a few minutes' pause, however, he said, "Lord, teach me how to pray. Lord, forgive my past barrenness."

I said, "Amen."

He continued, "I do mourn the years and opportunities I have lost. Let me redeem the time."

Again I said, "Amen."

He went on, "Lord, what would You have me to do? Show me − lead me − strengthen me."

That was a happy moment. The Lord was there, and the answer was certain. We rose from our knees thanking God.

The Major was just thirsting to go to work. I showed him the text, "If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and drink. He that believeth on Me, as the Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water" [John 7:37-38].

"'Living water,' I said, "is testimony for God in the power of the Spirit. Do not confuse this power of the Holy Ghost with His convicting or converting power. This is a special anointing for service, which has been obtained for us by the ascended Lord. Only the glorified Jesus can give this Pentecostal gift. It will enable you to speak and work with a power not your own."

I continued, "You will feel and know that it is not you, but the Holy Ghost who is energising you. How strange the apostles must have felt when they were speaking languages they had never learned. Whether they themselves understood what they were uttering or not, they saw that there were some present among the strangers who did."

The Major looked thoughtful and somewhat perplexed, so I invited him to ask me any question, that I might find out his difficulty. He said, "It seems to me that believing in Jesus Christ is something more than I have been accustomed to think."

"It may be so," I replied, "for believing in Christ does not mean merely believing in His death. It is true He died, but it is equally true that He rose. The apostle Paul adds, 'Yea, rather, that is risen again.' It is true also that He ascended up on high, and that He is coming again. Only to believe in His death is a very small part of the full object of faith. We receive the forgiveness of sins through His death − His keeping power through His resurrection − and power for service through His ascension. The Lord Himself says that the Holy Ghost is with you for conversion, in you for keeping [see John 14:17], and upon you for service [Acts 1:18]."

"Thank you, thank you," said the Major heartily. "I came here today because I was so dejected and miserable that I could not bear my own company. I did not know God was going to meet me in this way! I do thank Him, and that with all my heart."

This gentleman in a few weeks' time returned to his own residence in the South of England. No sooner had he reached home than he made it his first business to call upon the Rector of the parish, and tell him of his desire and readiness to work for God.

The Rector's reply was, "I do not quite know what work to give you. Would you object to read the lessons in church when Mr. V. is absent?"

The Major answered, "I will do that, but I am not accustomed to reading in public. I should like to have some Bible readings in my house with a few friends."

"Oh, certainly," replied the Rector. "You do not ask my permission to give a dinner or a ball. By all means read the Bible!"

The Major, encouraged thus far, invited his friends to an afternoon Bible reading. In a few weeks the drawing room was too small to seat all who came, so they collected the chairs from every room in the house and arranged them in the kitchen, which happened to be the largest apartment. Even this failed to accommodate the numbers who came, so that at last they were obliged to go out into the garden.

Then it came to the Major's mind to build a hall, one where he could not only receive his friends, but which would be suitable for evangelistic work. Two gentlemen, unsolicited, assisted him with money to complete the building, which was at length used as a kind of mission room in the parish.

By the end of the year, the Major was the centre of a blessed work in that neighbourhood, for it was near a town and other villages. He was not naturally a speaker, he had no voice for singing, nor had he even an attractive manner; but on the contrary, would be called wordy and heavy; yet he was used of the Lord to carry on a great work.

No one need despair for the want of gifts. Human gifts and attractions may produce apparent and astonishing results; but these are not so abiding or effectual as the work of the Holy Spirit.

16. Never See Death

John 8:51

I HAVE been preaching for many years now, and have always tried to make my meaning as clear and plain as possible. It is scarcely worth the exertion of public utterance if we succeed only in delivering our sermon to our own satisfaction, or even if we gain the approval or admiration of our hearers.

It is essential to the delivery of a message that we convey it intelligently to the minds of the audience. A cable which receives a message at one end, and presents a different one at the other is not reliable; neither is it good for much if it transmit an unintelligible communication.

But be we ever so careful to be simple and even colloquially plain, I find the majority of people hear what they think, far more than what we say. They come with minds full of prejudice in some cases, and in others are preoccupied with their own thoughts.

When we speak, they are judging whether we are right or wrong according to their standard. They are thinking within themselves whether they like this or that statement, and whether they agree with it or otherwise.

Here is a case in point upon an important subject. I had been preaching one day on the text, "If a man keep My saying, he shall never see death" [John 8:51-52]. After the sermon a lady who had good intellectual powers came to inquire more fully about the subject. She was one who tried to understand everything, and would not believe till she could understand. This is an insuperable hindrance to believing. Besides this, she had a wrong idea of the word death, and that was another obstacle in her way.

Having these two hindrances in her path, she did not follow the explanations which were given in the sermon. "My father," said the lady, "was a good, holy man, and he died. And I have seen other good people who died also. What then is the meaning of the words 'never see death'?"

I answered, "The meaning of Scripture sayings is not reached by intellectual efforts, but by submission to God. If you will do His will, you shall know His doctrine − not otherwise. You must receive the Word of God now as you did your A, B, C, when you were a child. You did not reason then, or try to understand why A was A, or why it was before B, or how C came after B. You received instruction as it was taught, and in this way you came to know your letters, and are now able to put them together so as to read and understand.

"In the same childlike way you must take God's revelation and teaching; and when you put these together, you will also be able to read their message. If you wish to know God's meaning, you must submit to God's Word. You can understand that if Adam had kept God's saying, he would have lived for ever, and not have seen death. It was his disobedience which brought death into the world. Adam brought death − Christ is come to give life. He says, 'I am the resurrection of dead souls, from the death of sin to the life of righteousness.' Moreover, He is the life of living ones; and if they continue to believe in Him, they shall never die, or 'never see death.'"

"Oh," said the lady, "I think I begin to understand what you mean by 'death.' I see it does not mean dying and going to the grave."

"No, indeed," I replied. "That death is only the death of the body or the separation of the soul from the body. That death is but temporary. There is a time coming when the grave will have to give up the bodies which have been committed to it, and the sea also. Even death itself will have to give up the bodies which have not been buried, either in the sea or in the land. Natural death is not the end of anything!"

This lady, like too many others, had been wandering in error on the subject. She had some undefined ideas of annihilation, extinction, or wearing out; as if death meant anything more than separation.

I said, "There are three kinds of death spoken of in Scripture − spiritual death, which is the separation of the soul from God the Spirit. Natural death, which is the separation of the body from the human soul; and everlasting death, which is the final separation of man (body and soul united) from God, for ever."

"Oh, my!" exclaimed my friend, "whenever shall I learn all this?"

I said, "Better acknowledge your ignorance, than puff it off for learning and science. You must acknowledge and feel you do not know, if you really wish to learn. Let me try and teach you.

"The first kind of death is called spiritual death, or separation from God. This, as I have already told you, Adam brought into the world by his disobedience. He died, that is to say, his soul was separated from the Spirit of God, who by His indwelling had made him a living soul. Understand, it is the Presence of the Spirit in the soul which makes it a living soul, as the presence of the soul in the body makes it a living body."

"Yes, yes; I see what you mean."

I continued, "Adam lost the Spirit by his disobedience, and died as to the soul. But God interposed for him, and promised to give his Son, the 'seed of the woman,' to restore spiritual life.

"When Adam sinned, he opened an awful gulf of separation between God and himself − an impassable gulf. This was actual separation, or spiritual death. And because Adam could not restore himself to union and reconciliation with God, the Great God sent His Son to be as a bridge over that chasm, by which man could return. It is a glorious bridge, like a beautiful rainbow spanning a great valley.

"The Son of God touches heaven with His divinity, and the earth with His humanity. He came from heaven and took our nature. He lived here on earth, died, and was buried, rose again, and ascended into heaven. This completed the way, or bridge of access to God, from whom we were separated by Adam's sin.

"Now do you understand that if I enter through Christ, the door of salvation, I shall never know separation anymore? 'He that liveth and believeth in Me shall never die.' 'He that keepeth My saying shall never see death.' Keeping God's Word brings you into union with God. Departure from it leads you to death or separation."

"I thank you very much," said the lady. "You have given me something to think over. I did not know the meaning of the word 'death.'"

"Yes," I added; "and when you know the thing itself, you will be a wiser woman."

"What do you mean?" she inquired. "Do you mean that I shall be wiser when I die?"

"No, certainly not. I mean, when you are awakened by the Spirit of God, you will see that you are a dead soul, separated from God by an impassable gulf. Then I hope you will not rest until you are saved. You will not be happy again until you find yourself safe in Christ − on the Bridge. There is no other way of salvation in this world."

"Do you really think," she asked, "that I shall be lost if I――?"

There she stopped, and looked at me while she was hesitating.

"My friend," I replied, "I mean to say that you are lost already, and that if you do not fall in with God's simple and only plan of salvation, you will perish for ever!"

"Oh, that is dreadful!" she exclaimed. "I never thought that. Is it really so?"

"Yes," I answered, "it is quite true. If you are not awakened by the Holy Spirit to know in your experience what spiritual death is, you will not care for spiritual life. It is far better to know about that awful gulf of separation while you are in this world, than have to learn about it when it is too late to find the way to cross. The poor 'rich man' we read about in Luke's Gospel, neglected the subject while he lived, and only heard of it after he was dead and lost. Believe me, it is not a matter of words and meanings, but of actual experience. You are dead by nature, and must be brought to life; or you will inevitably die the second death, for which there is no remedy."

As she did not speak, I went on to say, "Instead of airing your fancies and theories, you had far better go to God and ask Him about these things. At any rate, make a full and unquestioning surrender of yourself to Him as you are. Ask God to teach you by His Holy Spirit."

After a little prayer, and a few more words of encouragement, this lady went away determined to lean no longer on her own understanding, but to "seek the Lord while He may be found."

Like all others who do this in sincerity and truth, she found the Lord, and was found of Him. After this she began to read the Bible, and to see meanings in it she had never known before. She believed God's promises; and what is more, she also believed His threatenings and warnings, and ceased not to tell others of the danger they are in, till they are saved.

17. The Gift and the Giver

John 9:35

Scripture is a true mirror to Nature. In the ninth chapter of John, we read of a man who was born blind. Consequently he had never seen the light, and knew nothing of it excepting by hearsay.

It came to his good fortune one day to fall in with the Saviour, who anointed his eyes with clay and sent him to the pool of Siloam. There he washed his eyes as he was bidden, and to his great joy came back seeing. After this, he went about everywhere expressing his astonishment and delight. He was not ashamed to own the past, or afraid to acknowledge the present. His witness, however, was more about his newly acquired eyesight, than about Him who had bestowed it.

In consequence of his fearless testimony about himself, he was reproved, and eventually cast out from the synagogue. We are not told how he felt then, or whether he was as happy as before. But however this may have been, he continued to affirm, "This one thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see." He was sure that a change for the better had been wrought upon him.

Strange to say, he made no attempt to exercise his newly acquired sight in searching for his Benefactor. The Lord, it is true, found him afterwards, and revealed Himself to him. But the point I wish to show is that too often, to our own loss, we accept the gift and forget or overlook the Giver.

I asked a young lady one day whether she was converted. She answered with some hesitation in the affirmative.

"You do not look very bright or happy about it," I said. "How is that?"

"No," she replied, "I am not so happy as I was three years ago. Then I used to rejoice all the day long."

"Do you know any reason or cause why the joy of your salvation has departed?" I asked.

"No," she answered, "I do not; excepting, perhaps, it is because they tease me so much at home about my faith."

"I am not sorry to hear of that," I said. "It is one of the best signs you could have, that you are not as you were, or as your friends are; and therefore they fall upon you."

"They do," she said, "and laugh at me most cruelly."

"If you do not tease them," I replied, "I am rather glad that they tease you."

"Well," she added, with an impatient gesture, "Christians are a great hindrance to me also. They are so inconsistent and inconsiderate."

"Perhaps," I said, "you too have been a stumbling block to others in the same way. We have as much right to expect a good example from you, as you have from us."

"It may be so." Then, looking at me, she said, "I have been angry with you for three years!"

"Indeed?" I replied, taken by surprise. "I did not know you had ever seen me before."

"Oh, yes," she said, "I have heard you preach several times."

"What was it, then, that made you so angry, or caused you to retain your wrath so long?"

Her little wrath was evidently still there, for with some indignation she continued, "You split straws − you quite upset me!"

"Then we are well met this morning," I remarked, for I was rather curious to know what had disturbed her mind so much. "Tell me," I said, "what was it that offended you?"

"Why, you drew a distinction between Salvation and the Saviour!"

"I daresay I did, and there is a very important distinction too. What a pity you did not come to me that very day, before the sun went down. I would have told you what I am happy to tell you now. Indeed it is the very truth you want."

"I do not understand you. How can I have Salvation without the Saviour?"

I said, "There is a great difference between a gift and the giver, is there not? Salvation is a gift bestowed upon you, which evidently you try to keep and cannot; whereas the Saviour is a living Person, who can keep you and the gift also.

"The God of Israel had a complaint against His people. He said they had committed two sins − they had forsaken Him, the fountain of living waters [see Jeremiah 2:13], and made to themselves broken cisterns which could hold no water. There is much reason to believe that God urges that same double complaint still, and it may be with greater cause.

"Men would resent such forgetfulness and ingratitude if exercised towards themselves, but God is expected to overlook it. What perverseness and inconsistency there is in this human failing!"

"Men generally stick to a mine which is productive, or to a fountain from whence healthful water continually flows. But as to God, they receive gifts from Him, and cleave to them, instead of to the great Giver of them. They labour hard to make cisterns or vessels to retain the gift, and prolong its enjoyment; but to their sorrow they find that their cisterns are broken and their vessels hold no water. They learn to their bitter disappointment that these benefits make to themselves wings, and fly away.

"You may be sure it is far better to have the Lord Himself to be your salvation, than to have salvation only − far better to have the Lord for your righteousness than merely to have His righteousness imputed to you. No wonder you have not been as happy as you could wish, or so useful in your home as you might have been."

"Then how am I to know about all this?" she asked. "I never hear such things!"

"I am not surprised at that," I answered, "for when you did hear something about it three years ago, you, by your own showing, became angry. Besides, we do not need to be told that it is right and well to acknowledge the kindness of a benefactor. A little time ago a young lady told me a story about herself. She said she was walking one day along a cliff in Norfolk, when she felt the ground sinking under her. She gave a scream and stood still.

"A brave sergeant in scarlet coat and crimson sash, who was walking by on the firm ground, instantly untied his sash, and flinging one end to her, bade her hold on for her life. She did this with both hands, so that he was able to draw her up. He seated her on the ground where he himself stood in a place of security. She had scarcely been there half a minute, when the block of land on which she had just been standing moved slowly, and fell over into the sea.

"What with this, and the suddenness of the whole occurrence, she fainted away. Her sisters came and drew her in farther back from the edge where she was lying, and did their best to restore her to consciousness. When she came to, she looked round on all sides, and being asked what she was looking for, replied, 'Where is the man who saved my life?'

"That was right, was it not? She did not need someone to teach her to do this. Did you ever turn aside and ask the question, 'Where is He who saved my soul?'"

The young lady looked somewhat surprised but interested, and said, "I never thought of all this."

I replied, "Suppose you think of it now. Scripture does not say, Believe in the blood, or Believe in the death of Christ, or in your conversion, or in the forgiveness of your sins; but Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. He is a Person who was dead, and behold, He is alive again."

As Christians we should be witnesses of a risen Saviour, not exclusively of a dead one. The same Lord who saved this lady's soul at first had kept her all the time, though she was not aware of it. Now He began to reveal Himself to her as a living, present friend and shepherd who could keep her. She willingly put herself into His hands, not only for keeping, but for usefulness also.

From that time she became a very different person at home. The jokes and laughter of her brothers and sisters did not move her now as before. On the other hand, she had more power with God, and therefore more power for testimony. She spoke freely to her mother, and was the means of bringing her to the Lord, and then to her sisters and brothers. At length, all the family, and even the household, were with herself brought to rejoice in the Saviour.

Nor did her charity remain at home. She had Bible classes for people outside, and was the means of blessing to many others.

The place she lived in was like too many more, inhabited by people who were "at ease in Zion." They were well-meaning easygoing people who went to church regularly, and did some good to the poor, sometimes. They thought it would be a blessed thing to eat bread in the kingdom of heaven, but they had not the remotest suspicion that they ought to be partakers of heaven here on earth.

One of the ladies of this place, which we may call "Ease in Zion," came one day in an indignant state of mind to say, "Your Bible class is turning the heads of all the servants in the neighbourhood. They say they 'are saved,' forsooth! My servant had the impudence to ask me if I was saved, and whether I would come to the Bible class − a servants' Bible class! I wonder what we shall hear of next!"

I am happy to say my young friend went on, in spite of all opposition. She was now at the fountain, being filled to overflowing, and was a channel through which the fountain flowed to others.

There are multitudes of earnest souls in the same unhappy and unsatisfied state in which this lady used to be. They find that they cannot retain their joy or their peace, and the harder they work to do this, the more discouraged they become. Some throw themselves into religious work, and others into biblical study, others again into some philanthropic scheme for improving poor fallen humanity; but these things in themselves cannot bring a soul nearer to God.

There is nothing like coming to the fountain − giving yourself to the Lord, that He may use you as He will, and employ you in any service He requires. Then you will know the joy of the Lord, will see the joy of those you help, and the joy of your own heart will not be wanting.

18. Never Perish

John 10:28

WHAT does it matter what "they" say? A man's foes may be of his own household, and too often the greatest discouragement to believers comes from believers!

What worldly people think or say of you is very little to the point; but when those who have some standing in the Christian world criticise or find fault, then you cannot help feeling it; and all the more, if you have reason to know that you are right, and that your opposing friends are wrong.

A lady, who had received a decided and scriptural blessing, came one day to tell me her experience and to ask for advice. She said she had given herself up, spirit, soul, and body, to the Lord, and that He had accepted her and filled her with joy in the Holy Ghost. She could now speak for Him, and trust Him in a manner she had never done before.

"I am happy, and my soul is kept in a joy and peace which are wonderful." Then she stopped, and looked at me as if she would read my countenance, to see whether I understood her.

"Well," I said, "you believe the Lord has done that for you, and you thank Him."

"I do," she said earnestly, "I do, with all my heart."

"That is right," I said. "Then where is your difficulty?"

"There is none," she replied, "between God and my soul; but some people tell me that this experience is all a mistake; and others, that it is impossible to keep myself in this state. Others, say that I am sure to fall into some deadly danger for being so presumptuous."

The lady was going to add more, but I stopped her, saying, "Wait a moment; let me answer your difficulties so far. First, you are sure that your experience is not a mistake. They think, but you know. You 'know whom you have believed,' and you 'are persuaded that He is able to keep that which you have committed unto Him.' On this first point, then, you can afford to be at rest.

"As to the second objection, that it is impossible to keep yourself in peace and safety, that is quite true; but you do not try to keep yourself. It is the Lord who holds you, and He is able to keep you from falling.

"And as to the third, that you will certainly fall into some danger, you may answer, 'Most certainly I can do nothing but fall;' but the Lord, whose I am and whom I serve, He is able to sustain and guide me."

"Thank you very much," she said. "I am grateful for a word of encouragement."

"Now tell me," I continued, "how were you first brought to God. And then I should like to know how you came to your present experience of peace."

She was quite willing, and able, as all Christians should be, to give a reason for her hope.

She said, "One day a lady stopped her carriage and asked me if I would accept a tract. I thanked her, and not only took it, but read it."

"What was it about?" I asked.

"It was about a girl who prayed, 'Show me myself, and then show me Thyself;' and her prayers were answered."

"What did you do next?"

"I read the tract again and again, and thought to myself, 'If God is really so near and willing to answer prayer, I may as well call upon Him too.' I did so, and I cannot tell you how encouraged I was. I felt as if the Lord inclined unto me and heard my calling. I went on pleading, and was much engaged with this new experience of speaking to God, when my husband came home."

"Did you tell him anything about it?"

"Oh, yes, my heart was so full that I told him all, and showed him the tract I had been reading. He threw it down on the table and said, 'I've read that rubbish long ago!'"

"You see by that," I remarked, "that it is not through tracts that light necessarily comes, but it is through God who gives the blessing. Will you go on with your story?"

She continued, "I waited until my husband was asleep, and then I began to pray again. I sought the Lord, till I felt as if it were a matter of life and death − as if it must be heaven or hell that night! I pleaded for mercy, and said, 'Lord, save me now − save me now!' He did so, bless His name for ever. He took me out of the horrible pit. I felt like a new creature, and told my husband the next morning that I was happy. He gave me no encouragement, but said, 'It won't last long, I can tell you that!'

"Afterwards, he told me that he had been converted once himself, but it was all gone. This was a great disappointment to me, and made me expect something of the same kind myself. So it happened; and for several years I lived as if I had no concern about these things. Then," she continued, "I heard a sermon about 'the keeping power of Christ.' The preacher said, 'Christ can keep you, and you cannot keep yourself.'

"I knew from experience that the second of these statements was true, so I was the more in earnest to realise the truth of the first. My husband was sitting by my side, and I asked him about it; but he had been thinking of something else during the sermon, and therefore did not hear the remark of the preacher. I was so anxious to know better what the preacher meant, that at the close of the service I went forward and asked him whether Christ would keep believers.

"He answered, 'Why, of course He will. He died upon the cross to save them, and He rose from the dead, and lives with all power in heaven and on earth to keep them. How can you doubt it? For if when we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son, much more being reconciled, we shall be saved by His life.' [Romans 5:10.]

"I said to him, 'How can I know this for myself?' His answer was, 'How did you get to know about your salvation?' I told him, 'By simple faith in the Lord Jesus Christ;' and he said, 'In the same way, by simple faith in a living personal Saviour, you may know what it is to be kept.' I told him that I was a backslider. Then he said, 'Go and tell the Lord that, and ask Him to forgive your backsliding, and to receive you to Himself, that He may keep you in the future.'

"I did as he bade me, and, thank God, I know what he said is true. The Lord does keep me every hour. I often wonder now why ministers do not preach this truth oftener. Perhaps my ears have been closed to it, but I do not remember ever hearing it taught before."

I was much interested in listening to this lady's account of the Lord's dealings with her, and encouraged her to go on, and tell me more.

She said, "After this, I went to the same church again, and heard a sermon upon sanctification. The preacher said there were two kinds of sanctification − one in which we had close communion with God always, and the other in which we were fitted for aggressive service. I thought I would have one of these blessings at a time; and he told me to give up myself to God's will − to be, to do, or to suffer anything, only that His will might be done.

"I was afraid at first to do this; but I did it, and received the blessing I have. Still I was not altogether free, for thoughts kept coming to me: 'Suppose God sends you a painful illness. Suppose He takes away your children or your husband. What will you do then?' This used to make me feel very sad and miserable."

I said to her, "How did you get rid of these troubles?"

She replied, "I heard a sermon from the words, 'My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me: and I give unto them eternal life: and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand' [John 10:27-28]. This sermon seemed to bring me so near the Lord that I felt I could trust Him with everything − myself, my children, my husband, and all belonging to me; and a quiet peace settled down upon my soul.

"One day after this I was with some friends, and they were talking about Sanctification. I made a few remarks upon the subject, and was urged to get up and tell what I knew about it. I was very frightened, and tried to rise several times before I could summon up the courage. When I did stand up I felt as if I was choking.

"At first I could not utter a word, but with a little encouragement I told what the Lord had done for me. I only spoke for a few minutes, and can scarcely remember what I said, but I felt such a load go off my mind that I went home as bold as a lion. I felt as if the love of God had cast out all fear.

"I went straight to my husband. I felt I had power, and he seemed to feel it too. He did not excuse himself as before, and when I told him that Christ could forgive his backsliding and keep him in future, he promised that he would think about it. That did not do for me. I was urgent with him, and pleaded with tears, till at length he broke down and gave himself to God. His backsliding is gone, and he knows also what it is to be under the Saviour's keeping.

"We are very happy now, and can sing −

'Safe in the arms of Jesus,

Safe from corroding care.'

"I feel so happy in speaking of these things, and thank you very much for letting me talk to you."

As iron sharpens iron, so was my own soul strengthened by this lady's testimony. It is a very blessed thing to feel and know that the Lord is our Shepherd, and that we cannot want for anything that is good for us. This should be the happy experience of all God's children.

19. The Stone in the Way

John 11:39

A LADY came to me one day to ask for prayer for her husband, that he might be reclaimed from drunkenness.

She was a believer in the Lord, and loved Him too. She told me that she could trust Jesus for everything, for she believed He loved her, and her husband and children, more than she loved them herself.

"I feel sure," she said, "that if two agree together to ask anything of the Lord, that prayer will, and must be answered."

She was very pressing, thinking that if this barrier of drunkenness were removed, her husband might be brought to hear the Gospel.

I prayed with her, and promised I would continue to pray. She went away with confidence, and even rejoicing, for she said, "I feel sure this prayer will be answered."

It was answered, but in such a manner as almost to drive her to despair.

She watched her husband for a few days, and thought there was some improvement in him. One day he actually did not touch the hateful liquor at all. But alas, for her faith and hopes! A few nights after this he came home more drunk than ever, and in spite of every remonstrance, determined to continue his habit of drinking.

He said that if she begged him on her knees, he could not stop. If he knew that his life depended upon it, he must still take it. He did, and brought on delirium. In this state he remained for weeks, miserable in mind and body.

The enemy took advantage of all this to distress the lady, and suggested, "This is what comes of faith in prayer. So much for your trust in God and Christ! You had better give up that, and try some more tangible means."

Poor woman, she was distracted about her faith and her husband's condition. Discouraged and disheartened, she came to me to ask what she was to do next.

I said, "We must still continue the prayers we have been offering; but perhaps we ought rather to have asked the Lord to save your husband, instead of only making him sober."

I thought of Martha and Mary who believed that the Lord could heal the sick, but did not believe He could raise the dead.

"Come," I said, "let us ask the Lord to save his soul, and perhaps the other prayer will be answered too."

"Oh, no!" exclaimed the lady. "It is impossible for a drunkard to enter the kingdom of heaven. The drunkard's doom is fixed."

"Ah," I said, "I see now where you are. You think that a man is lost for his besetting sin or sins. No, he is lost because he belongs to the family of Adam, and if he does not believe in Christ he will perish. The lost sinner dying in his sins will perish. If he be a drunkard, there may be a special place of punishment for him; but bear in mind that sinners are not lost for ever, just because they are sinners. The Lord can raise up the vilest!"

"But how can my husband believe in Jesus while he is in his present state?"

I answered, "I do not know, but I have seen drunken people stagger into a meeting, and I have also seen how such people have been apprehended by God. Terrified and sobered under conviction of sin, they have been brought to God then and there. There is nothing too hard for the Lord to do. He is the Resurrection of dead souls of all kinds, as well as the Life of believers. Do you believe this?"

No, she evidently did not believe it. She was miserable and disheartened − her faith was gone.

I said, "Suppose you take away the stone of your unbelief and trust the Lord to convert your husband, as you trusted Him a few weeks ago to reform him."

"It is of no use," she said. "Of no use whatever till he gives up the drink."

I calmly disagreed with her, and said, "Is it not as easy for the Lord to raise him from spiritual death, as it would be to deliver him from his drunkenness? And would it not be more for His glory? Come now, let us take away the stone. It is this practical unbelief of believers which hinders the work of Christ more than anything else.

"To suppose that there are any sins so great that the blood of Jesus cannot wash them away, or to suppose that there are any sinners so tied and bound with habits of sin that the Lord cannot set them free − this is to limit His power. Is there anything too hard for the Lord, or anything too good for Him to do? Come, instead of saying, Can the Lord save your husband? let us say, The Lord can save, and deliver him too."

The next day, when the gentleman was wretched and low, both physically and mentally, I went to see him. I talked to him, not about his dreadful habit, and the painful as well as degrading consequences of it, but of God's love. I said to him, "God loves you."

He looked straight before him, and shaking his head, said, "I wish it were true, but that cannot be!"

"Yes," I repeated, "God loves you. He so loved you as to send His Son from heaven to save you."

He still had the same hard, impassive look. I continued, "The Son of God, Jesus, loves you; and shed His blood to wash your sins away. The Holy Spirit loves you, and has put it into the heart of your dear wife to pray for you; and has brought me here to tell you of God's love."

"You are very kind, sir," he said, but with a sad, desponding face.

"Yes," I said, "and if I am very kind, what is God, who loves you far, far more than I can? Indeed the Holy Spirit loves you, bad as you are, and He can help you."

After a little pause I continued. "Think too of God's forbearance, when He might have cut you off long ago; yet He waits to be gracious."

"Don't tell me that, sir," he said in a frantic way. "I cannot bear it. Don't mock me. There is no help for me!"

"But Jesus says, 'How often would I have gathered you, long, long ago, but ye would not.' He will save you now, if you will let Him. Will you?"

"No, sir, I cannot. No, I cannot."

I said, "Do you mean by that, that you will not let Him? That you do not wish Him to save you? You certainly can, if you will. There was a man, when the Lord was upon earth, who said to Him, 'Lord, if Thou canst do anything, have compassion on me.' The Lord replied, 'If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth' [Mark 9:22-23]. The man cried out with tears, 'Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.' His petition was granted. Come now, let us say, 'Lord, I do believe; help Thou my unbelief!'

Then I said, "Supposing I could help you out of your trouble, and set you on your feet again in good health and spirits. Would you let me?"

"You cannot do it, sir."

"Well, I know that. But supposing I could, would you let me?"

"Yes, I think so," he said slowly.

"Now, believe me, the Lord is here with all power in heaven and on earth. Will you let Him do it?"

"How can I do that?" he said.

"By kneeling down and asking Him, in your own words."

"Oh, no, no; I am not fit to pray − drunken brute that I am. He would not look at me; I know that."

I said, "I think I know Him better than you do; and I am sure He never yet turned away a sinner from Him. And if you are a miserable drunkard, He has all the more compassion for you."

Poor man! By this time he was deeply penetrated by a sense of his vileness and unworthiness. I found that arguments and pleadings were of no avail; so we began to sing,

"Come, let us to the Lord our God

With contrite hearts return;

Our God is gracious, nor will leave

The desolate to mourn.

Our hearts, if God we seek to know,

Shall know Him and rejoice;

His coming like the morn shall be,

Like morning songs His voice."

There is a power in singing, and it produced an impression upon this poor man. His wife's tremulous voice was very touching and effective, and he began to cry; though this is nothing uncommon for one in his state.

With a choking voice he asked for the first verse over again; and in the middle of it, putting both hands up to his face, he cried out, "O Lord God, save me! Oh, if it is possible, save me!"

"Thank God for that prayer," I said. "He can save, and He is willing."

The gentleman fell on his knees, and we prayed with him; he calling out amens, and otherwise responding.

To make a long story short, he found peace, and rejoiced in the forgiveness of the past. He was sobered too, and talked with intelligence and joyfulness, looking forward to the future. He made many resolutions about his old besetting sins, but I rather encouraged him to ask God to keep him, and not allow him to trust in himself, or his resolutions.

The apostle Paul says, "Be strong in the Lord − not apart from the Lord − and in the power of His might" − not in the power of your faith, or your determination. I have known people after conversion to fall into their besetting sin of drink, even though they had pledged themselves to abstain. And I have known the same people stand firm and become free from their bondage when they ceased from self and self-effort, and trusted in a present Saviour to uphold them.

Their deliverance has been so complete that the very desire for drink has been taken away, and they have come to dislike the very smell of that which used to be such a snare.

The lady's gratitude to God and to me was great, but her sorrow at having doubted Christ was greater. I bid her at once go and ask Him to forgive her this, and teach her to trust Him better in the future.

20. Loose Him!

John 11:44

WHEN Lazarus was called out of his tomb, he came from death into life, but he brought his grave clothes with him. He was alive, but he was not free. His hands were tied, so that he could not work. His feet were bound, so that he could not step out. If the Lord had left the place, Lazarus could not have followed Him.

So it is with all quickened and converted souls. Whatever their bands may have been and are, they require to be loosed from them. We want deliverance as much as pardon. These two things should not be confused, anymore than the state of death in which Lazarus had been, ought to be confused with the grave clothes in which his body was bound. He needed to be raised to life. So do we. He needed also that he might be loosed from his grave clothes in order to walk in freedom. So do we.

A lady whose husband had been converted to God came to me one day in great trouble of heart. She said, "My husband used to be sadly addicted to drink. He was just a slave to this fearful habit. He was like the men we read of in the Bible, who were possessed with devils − he broke through every fetter and every resolution. But," she added, "by the mercy of God he has been changed in heart, and is indeed like another man. He has abstained from drink, and in many other respects shows the reality of his conversion. But alas, his old craving for stimulants is coming back. I did hope that was gone for ever. What can I do? Today he says he is low and depressed, and thinks that just one glass of wine would do him good, and cheer his spirits."

"Do not let him have it," I said. "Be kind but firm with him on this point. Draw his thoughts and attention to something else."

"Ah, that will never do," she said. "You have no idea what a power there is in that craving. He declares that he is quite determined not to take more than one glass − just a little. He says he intends never to give way to the old drinking habit again."

I said, "A burnt child ought to dread the fire, but it does not appear that he does so. He evidently is not afraid of it. Instead of trying to cheer himself with stimulants, he had far better go to God with his depression. Remind him how once he came to God as a lost sinner for salvation. Now let him come exactly in the same way as a saved sinner, for deliverance from this dreadful besetment."

The lady shook her head, as if my advice was altogether useless, and that he either could not, or would not carry it out.

I said, "My decided opinion and counsel is that he should seek some other remedy. He should not indulge his desire, for the more he gives in to that craving, the stronger it will become. To feed the wolf is not the way to master or to kill it."

The poor wife's perplexity was twofold. She was not only disappointed that the appetite for drink had come back, but also that her husband's conversion had not done more for him.

I said, "You do not appear to see the difference between pardon and deliverance. The former is given to the penitent sinner for Jesus' sake. The latter is given to the penitent believer by the risen Christ. He rose again from the dead with all power in heaven and on earth, and lives to give such deliverance.

"On one side of His grave He is the Lamb of God which beareth away the sins of the world. On the other side He is the Living Mighty Shepherd of God's people or lambs, to protect and deliver them from every kind of danger. Your husband must come to Christ the Risen One for deliverance from this dreadful habit."

She answered, "I am sure this advice will not satisfy him. He tells me on his honour that he is determined, and has resolved never to get into the bad way again."

"That may be," I replied. "I dare say he is most sincere and earnest too about this, but I am sure that if he trusts to his resolution and gratifies himself with a little stimulant now and a little then, his craving will not die out. Far from that, it will break out for certain, in spite of all his good intentions, and overcome him sooner or later. But if he will come to the Lord as a weak helpless one who can do nothing, He will take the craving away, and give him such freedom that he will dislike even the very smell of stimulants. As this terrible temptation is approaching him again, now is the very time to appeal for deliverance."

I said, "Let us go and see him. I am sure the Lord would bid us 'Loose him, and let him go.' We cannot do this ourselves, anymore than we can raise the dead. But we know Who can. If we believe, we shall see the glory of our God. Let us have faith in Him."

Accordingly we proceeded to interview the gentleman, and found him, as his wife had said, desperate for his glass of wine.

He, addressing himself to me, said, "My wife is afraid that I shall get into the old bad way again. Such a thing, I assure you on my honour, is very far from my mind. I have had enough of that − indeed I have, and no mistake!"

I replied, "I fully believe every word you say, and that may be your feeling now. But for all that, I, with your wife, fear that the taste and smell of wine will have such power over you that you will in all probability be carried away, in spite of your good and determined resolutions. You must remember that you are not stronger in yourself than you were; and as a child of God you are more liable to the devil's temptations than before. I wonder you are not afraid of the old enemy!"

"Oh, dear, no," he said hastily. "Wine has no power over me now. I could take a little and stop, or I could do without it altogether! I am not a slave to it any longer."

"If you really can do without it," I rejoined, "you have not much to give up. Therefore, by all means let me urge you to put it away finally, and go on without it."

"Oh, I dare say I could promise to do that for you, but is it not much better to face your enemy than put him out of sight?

"Do not be deceived," I answered, "by any such arguments. Besides, I do not ask you to make me a promise, or even to express a resolution. I want you to give up the drink for ever, like a man. It has done you no good, and has brought you much harm and dishonour. Give it up!"

He looked rather aghast at the idea of giving it up for ever.

I said, "If I give you a book, I do not promise or resolve to give it. I transfer it to you, to be yours in perpetuity. As far as I am concerned it is no longer mine. In this way I want you to give up the drink. When you have really done this, we will ask the Lord to forgive you all the past, and everything you have said and done under the influence of drink. We will also ask Him to deliver you and to keep you from it in the future. This is what is called absolution, as distinguished from pardon. You cannot deliver or absolve yourself."

As he was still pondering in his mind, evidently trying to find an answer, I continued, "I will tell you what resolution is like. Suppose a savage bulldog was about to attack you, and seeing that, you went forward with moral courage and seized the furious creature by the collar. As long as you held him off at arm's length you would be safe, but the moment you relaxed your hold he would rush at you and bite you all the more fiercely for having been restrained. In the meantime, that strong arm and courage of yours, with which you were holding off the dog, would be useless to you for any other purpose.

"This plan would not pay. Give it up and try mine. Let the Lord fight for you, and in His defence you will be perfectly safe; and what is more, you will be free − both hands will be loose for the Lord's work, and you will be all the happier for that."

This gentleman could not answer the argument, nor did he try to do so. But he was not sufficiently in earnest to make any sacrifice to follow Christ. Instead of this, he followed his own course, and took his "little glass" to relieve his craving now and then. He fell, and that more than once. At length he began to see and feel his weakness and danger. Having come thus far to himself, he arose to go to his Father and Saviour. He gave up the drink, and surrendered himself to the Lord's keeping.

Trusting in a Living Lord, he is loosed from the bands in which he had been so long held. He knows now the reality of the keeping power of the Lord, as he knew before the reality of pardon. He can now testify to others that the Saviour can deliver from the power of sin as easily as He can save from its penalty. In other words, he has found that it is as easy for the Lord to say, "Rise up and walk," as to say "Thy sins be forgiven thee" [Mark 2:9].

The Lord's delivering power applies not only to release from habits of intemperance, but also to relief from every other besetment of sin − the love of the world, the love of money, the power of lust, temper, selfishness, or any other sin. If these are put aside, and the soul is placed under the Lord's keeping, He can, and He will, not only forgive the sins we have committed under these influences, but He will cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

There is no doubt the religion of Christ is one that should, and actually does, give freedom from sinning. "Our old man [Adam] is crucified, that the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin" [see Romans 6:6].

21. I Would See Jesus

John 12:21

I MIGHT as well try to pick up a shilling with my foot instead of my hand, as try to apprehend spiritual things with natural perception. Spiritual things can only be spiritually discerned. But for all this, people will and do persist in trying to understand the things of God, instead of believing.

Some people are intensely inquisitive to find out what conversion is, merely to satisfy curiosity; and some are anxious to do so from a real sense of their need. These latter desire to know the truth as it is in Jesus; but for all this, they cannot attain it by their endeavours.

A young gentleman was sitting alone in a pew at an after-meeting, looking very unhappy and perplexed. I asked him if I could help him. He said, "Oh, no, I do not think anybody can help me. I am too hard."

"Yes, I know you are too hard for me," I replied, "but you are not too hard for the Lord. What is your trouble?"

"I don't know at all," he said. "I cannot find the peace that other people talk about"

"Do you really desire it?" I asked.

"Yes, indeed I do. I am thoroughly miserable!"

"Thank God," I replied, "that you are so. It is far better than being indifferent or casual. This shows that God has given you His Spirit. Have you been asking Him to do so?"

"Yes, I have," he replied. "You bade me do that. You told me to pray, 'Lord, take my heart, and give me Thy Holy Spirit.' I did so, and thought that God would make me happy at once, like others. Instead of this, I declare I was never more miserable in my life!"

"Ah, young friend," I said, "God convicts to convert. Angels in heaven are rejoicing over you now. If you will only thank God for conviction, conversion will soon follow."

Looking at me in a disappointed way, he said, "You told me, 'there was life for a look at Christ crucified.' I have looked, but there is no life for me."

"Excuse me," I replied. "I did not say you would receive life for your looking, or for anything you could do. I said there is life in a look. It is not for the work or act of looking, but in looking."

Seemingly perplexed, he inquired, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that everyone who looks does live. If you do not live, it is because you do not look in the right way. If you saw your sins laid upon Christ, you would not see or feel them on yourself."

"It's no use; I cannot understand," he said, crossing his legs with an impatient gesture.

I said to him, "I do not ask you to believe your feelings, but to believe God. How can you believe that God has done you a great kindness, and not thank Him? How can you believe in a loving Saviour, and not praise Him? Believing is having. 'He that believeth hath everlasting life.'"

As he was silent, I continued. "I do not ask for a thing that I have, but thankfully acknowledge that I have received it. Tell me, did you always desire to know Christ and His salvation?"

"No," he answered, "it is only since you have been here. I have been praying and reading the Bible, and have determined to give up the opera too! Yes, that is gone for ever. I have been there for the last time, and I mean to give up a lot more things besides."

"Now," I said, "I think I can see what is hindering you. Instead of accepting God's salvation as a free gift, you want to buy it with your prayers, and the many things you are going to give up. Remember, God does not ask you to give up anything − payment for salvation − but to accept it as a free gift."

"What am I to accept?" he asked anxiously.

"Accept," I said, "as freely as it is given to you, forgiveness of your sins and the salvation of your soul"

"That is what I want," he replied. "But how am I to do it?"

I answered, "By believing, that is, by taking with thanksgiving what God gives you."

He said, "I think I have done that, and yet I do not feel I have anything."

"That is the very point," I replied. "Feeling comes after thanking. You do not feel that you have had your dinner before you have taken it. You should thank God for what Christ did for you; and while you are thanking, a joy will spring up which cannot come while you are looking at yourself. The joy comes from without, and you are looking for feelings within. Warmth comes from the fire, but you do not wait to feel warm before you go to the fire!

I continued, "By way of stirring up yourself to thank God, do as the Psalmist was led to do. He said to himself:

'Bless the Lord, O my soul;

And all that is within me,

Bless His holy name.

Bless the Lord, O my soul,

And forget not all His benefits'

[Psalm 103:1-2].

"Think of the Lord's goodness instead of your wants. Then the Psalmist goes on to mention five royal benefits the Lord has provided, and dwelling upon these his soul rises up into thankfulness and rejoicing. He concludes the psalm by calling upon the angels and all the hosts of heaven to bless the Lord. This is a more sensible plan than waiting to feel something."

My young friend listened very attentively to what I had to say, and when I had finished he said, "Suppose, now, I were to praise God in the way you describe. It would be only with my lips!"

"Very well," I said, "begin there. Say, 'Open Thou my lips, and my mouth shall show forth thy praise;' and soon you will come to sing to the Lord, and heartily rejoice in His salvation."

"Thank you very, very much," he said. "Now I think I can see what you mean."

"Yes," I said, "if you will only thank God half as spontaneously for the much He has done for you, as you thank me for the little I have done, you will do very well. When a soul is thanking God it is looking in the right direction. You have only to go on in order to get on. Soon you will find yourself rejoicing with full liberty. From trying to do it, you will do it without trying. Do not try to hold the Word, but let the Word of God take hold of you."

"Oh, I see what you mean," he exclaimed. "I have been trying to lay hold of God, but you mean that He is to lay hold of me!"

By this time the forlorn, desponding young man was in an animated and lively state. "Now," I said to him, "my advice to you is − Go home, thanking God as you go. You do not want prayer, but praise. Praise God as you go along. Articulate words of thanksgiving. Say to the Lord, 'I do believe − I will − I will believe that Jesus died for me. O Lord, help me to praise Thee aright!'"

I continued, "The Psalmist says, 'Enter into His gates with thanksgiving and into His courts with praise; be thankful unto Him, and bless His name' [Psalm 100:4]."

The next morning this gentleman came to call upon me with a beaming and happy face. He said, "Last night I went away as you told me, thanking God. And before I reached home, I felt as if I could leap up into the air. I was happy! I know what you mean now. I have found peace with God. I could not keep this joy to myself, so I told my father and mother that the Lord had changed my heart. They were glad to hear it, I can tell you! We had a happy time together before we went to bed. For some time I could not sleep for joy. In the morning, when I awoke, I was very depressed and low. I wondered at this, and said to myself, 'How is it? I was happy enough when I came to bed, and happy when I fell asleep. I do believe that Jesus died for me − I do thank Him!' I went on like this, and the joy all came back again; and I am just as happy as I can live."

"Take my advice," I said, "and the next time you are depressed, ask yourself, 'Have I done anything to grieve God?' If you are not condemned in your mind, go on trusting Him. These depressions sometimes arise from physical causes, and the devil takes advantage of this. But your fellowship with God does not depend upon feelings. Do as you did this morning, and you will see how the clouds will pass away."

"Thank you," he said. "That is kind of you to put me up to resist the old devil!"

I said, "Keep near to the Lord Jesus every day − one day at a time. Say, 'Lord, guide and govern me this day with Thy Holy Spirit, that I may think and do the things that please Thee.' Get into the way of thanking Him for everything."

"Yes," he said, "and I thank you too. Now I mean to go and tell all the fellows about this. It is awfully easy and plain when you know it! I do not wish to go to heaven alone."

It is always better, and easier too, to go forward at once while the heart is warm. In the energy and freshness of his first love, a young convert can do and say a great deal more than he would if he allowed coldness to supervene.

The very desire this young man expressed to go to his companions showed how the Holy Spirit was leading him. I therefore encouraged him to do as he proposed, and gave him some hints as to standing his ground if his companions laughed at him.

He did go, and while some derided, others were prevailed upon to come to the evening service. Better than that, they were also persuaded to give their hearts to God. So the work began and went on among young men in that place. They have now formed what they call a club for Bible readings, and for praying and singing together.

22. Cleansing

John 8:8

DO you see that rough-looking man there, kneeling in the corner?"

"Yes," I said, "I do."

"That man," said the Vicar, "is rougher than he looks. He is like one possessed of a devil. I am surprised to see him here in church."

On hearing this I went to the man in question and spoke to him, but received no answer. As he did not notice what I said to him, I knelt down and prayed by his side. Still he took no heed. I naturally supposed that he did not desire any human or external help, so went to speak with other anxious ones who were waiting in the church at the time.

The next morning, at the early service, I saw this same man come into church. Now he was washed and dressed up in his best. His countenance also presented a changed appearance. At the end of the service, seeing that he was lingering about, and every now and then looking towards me, I ventured to approach him once more.

He said, "I did not answer you last night, for my mind was full of thoughts. I did not want to lose them, but your prayer was wonderfully kind. How did you know what was the matter with me?"

"God knew your need," I replied, "and put it into my heart to say what I did. I simply prayed as I was then led for your particular case."

"When you were shutting up here," said the man, "I went straight home and fell on my knees. I could not let the Lord go till He gave me deliverance. In the middle of the night it pleased Him to heal my backsliding, and set my soul at liberty."

"Thank God for that," I said.

"Yes, I do, I do," said the man fervently.

"Do you mind telling me," I asked, "about yourself and your trouble?"

"No," he replied; "my story may help you for other people. Twelve years ago I was converted from being a very desperate, swearing, drinking man. I was changed entirely, and became as happy as I was free. I went on like this for more than two years, and then I began to lose interest in reading the Bible, and I did not care to pray or go to meetings and services any longer. I felt I was going back. I asked some people about this, and was told that it was just what happened to everyone; that I must go on praying and singing till my happy feelings came back. But they did not come back. I prayed loud and sang heartily, as heartily as I could. But all the time, I was doing it not because I was happy as before, but because I wished to make myself so!"

I thought, "This is an intelligent man. He describes his state and that of many others very well." Indeed he was so, and was better educated than he looked.

He continued, "I went away to D., and there got into business with a man who was a builder like myself. After we had joined partnership, I found out that he was an unscrupulous and cunning man who intended to make money somehow, honestly or otherwise. He told me of some of his cheating tricks, and added, 'We'll make this pay, you know!'

"I am ashamed to say I did not stand out against him. I never told him I was a Christian, or tried to teach him better. One day he brought me a paper to sign in high glee. This was to bind us to a contract in which we were to make a great deal of money. It looked all fair, so I signed it. We were responsible for a considerable sum of money, but we were to gain so much more that we had no difficulty in raising the necessary sum at the bank.

"Before long, however, my partner went off with all he could take, and left me responsible. There was no profit, for the scheme failed, so that I was completely ruined. What made me feel it the more deeply was that God had left me too. I could not pray, and I did not care to go to any place of worship. At last, I took to drinking again to drown my misery. I became impatient and angry, and swore at everyone as bad as ever.

"It pleased God to take away one of my children. This made me wild. I became a kind of devil at home, so that my poor wife was terrified at my presence. I left that place and came here to find work. I used to employ hands before, but now I am obliged to go out and work under another for whatever I can get. I thought it was very hard of God to let me down like this!"

"My dear man," I said, "God did not let you down or leave you. It was you that forsook Him. I can see where you went astray now. When you first began to feel cold and dark, instead of trying to churn up some feelings by praying and singing loud, you should have cast yourself upon God, as you did when you were first anxious. If you had done that, He would have delivered you as readily as He at the first pardoned you. When you once began to disregard God, I am not surprised at your departing step by step farther from Him. Please go on with your story."

He continued, "I was going on in my evil ways, till everyone knew me to be a thoroughly bad man. I was ashamed of myself, but I was too proud to let them know that. As I was going to the public house last night, I heard the singing in church. I could not help stopping to listen. It reminded me so of old days and happier times. I thought I would just go inside and sit down somewhere at the back out of sight. I cannot tell you how I felt to be in God's house again!

"Soon the sermon began, and you told us that every sinner needs pardon for his past sins. 'Ah,' I thought to myself, 'yes, and for his present sins too!' You went on to say, 'There is no heaven for those whose sins are not forgiven.' I wished within myself that there was heaven for everyone who had ever experienced pardon. Then you said, 'Pardoned sinners need deliverance just as much as they needed pardon. Without deliverance they are sure to go astray and go back.'

"Can you imagine how I listened? You said, 'If a man has been a drunkard before, or a swearer, or dishonest, the old habit may come back again, and perhaps get firmer hold of him than it had before!' It seemed to me you knew I was in church, and that you were talking to me all the time. You said, 'God took David out of the horrible pit; yes, and He it was who also took him out of the miry clay.' I always used to put these two things together, but you said, 'No, there is miry clay in the pit, sure enough, but when a man is taken out of the pit he brings miry clay with him.'"

"Yes," I told him, "and this is true more or less in every case. As Lazarus brought his grave clothes with him out of the grave, and needed to be delivered from them; so every convert brings miry clay of old bad ways, from which he also needs to be delivered."

"I thought," said the man, "while you were speaking, that you were telling my story. You said, 'The Lord does not bid us brush off the miry clay from ourselves, or get rid of it by our own endeavours, but invites us to come to Him. He can take us out of the clay as well as out of the pit. He must do this, and He alone; but we must ask Him.'"

"You give a very good account of my sermon," I said, "and have expressed my meaning. People often think that they are on the rock when they are first taken out of the pit. That is true, and yet it is not true. They are on the rock, but they have slippery miry clay between them and the rock, and this accounts for their slipping about and falling as they do."

"True, true," exclaimed the man. "That is how I feel so grievously." He went on to say, "When the sermon was over, you asked anyone who wished for prayer, or who desired further instruction, to remain behind a little longer. I wondered that everybody did not stay. For my part I could not go away, but fell on my knees. It seemed as if God would keep me in that position to tell me of the past, and remind me how far I had wandered away from Him. I could not get up or speak to anyone. I asked the Lord to forgive and restore me; and I believe He has done it. I want you to give me instruction about cleansing."

I said, "As a risen and ascended Saviour, the Lord Jesus has two kinds of cleansing for believers − one with reference to our walk in this world, and the other with reference to our communion with God. In the thirteenth chapter of John we read that after supper the Lord rose and girded Himself with a towel, and having poured out water into a basin He began to wash the disciples' feet. This act indicates His ministry in His present character. Water is a figure that stands for the Word of God, and by it the Lord cleanses our erroneous thoughts and actions. In this way He washes away the defilements we contract in our journeys here below. A man may think his own views and actions are quite right, until he brings them to the Word of God, and then he finds they want correcting. We all need to unlearn many things we had no business to learn, and to undo many things which we ought not to have done.

"The other cleansing is by the blood of sprinkling, or the intercession of Christ at the right hand of God. By virtue of this, the Lord cleanses the conscience from dead works to serve the living God. The blood thus sprinkled cleanses us from all unrighteousness. By this cleansing the Lord takes away bad habits, whatever they may be, and enables us to depend upon Him alone to carry and guide us. This is being on the rock."

The man was most grateful for light and instruction, and went his way to bear testimony to others. He acknowledged with shame his backsliding, and with gratitude and thankfulness the mercy of God in restoring him.

Confessions of this kind are always far better than professions of what you were, and what you mean to be, and they have more effect.

The next time I met my friend he told me that he had commenced a Bible class, and was perfectly astonished to find how clear the Word of God is, in giving direction to believers. "So many people," he said, "go as I did, by their feelings instead of by the Bible. I see now how truly the Word of God is a light to our feet, and a lantern to our path."

23. The Lord is Coming

John 14:3

WHAT do you think of these new views about the Lord coming to take away His people from the earth?" said a gentleman to me one day. "I hear that they are speaking of it in England, America, India, Australia, New Zealand, and in fact everywhere. Even the country people, I am told, are taking up this strange idea."

"Are they?" I inquired, not because I doubted my friend, but because I wanted to draw him out upon this subject. He was one who thought he knew most things, and was competent to judge what was usual and what was strange!

"Yes, sir," he replied, "in books innumerable, in newspapers, and even in private letters the same story is repeated. It is gaining ground in a marvellous way."

"But what is strange in this?" I asked. "Is it not true?"

"I have heard," he said, "that new things are not true, and true things are not new. This new and strange theory therefore must be a mistake."

I answered, "I think we can best settle that difficulty for you by reference to the Word of God. You will grant, I suppose, that if the Lord's coming to take away His people is revealed to us in Scripture, it cannot be new, and therefore it must be true!"

He answered, "But these people say the Lord is not coming to burn up the world, but to take the believers away to Himself in the heavenlies. Now, can you imagine people by millions flying through the air? They tell me," he continued, "that the dead in Christ are to be raised, and the living ones on earth changed and caught up together with them. It is rather hard to believe all that! Don't you think so?"

"Yes," I said, "it may be so. If you have been brought up in another view, I do not wonder at your difficulty. I myself found it most difficult at first. I used to think, with you, that the Lord was coming to burn up the world, as you call it. But from Scripture I gather that the Lord is coming first for His people, to the air; and then with His people, to the earth. This is simply true; and you will find it is easy of acceptance when you understand about it."

"But I suppose you will allow," he said, "that there are very few learned men or doctors of divinity who agree with you about this!"

"I do not know much about these great men or their views," I answered. "I would rather go by plain words of Scripture. On one occasion I went where some such learned divines were present, to a Greek Testament reading. We had the beginning of the fourteenth chapter of John for our subject. I went there full of expectation, hoping to hear some definite teaching about the Lord's promise to come again and receive His people to Himself. But − would you believe it? − no allusion whatever was made to it!

"These earnest men went on chopping Greek with gusto, looking into one another's faces with much interest. I went for bread, and received nothing but stones and sticks instead. For a whole hour these good men discussed the various readings of the Greek, and the force of this word and that. But they never came to the fact spoken of in this passage of Scripture concerning the Lord's coming. At the conclusion I could not help complaining that I had heard nothing about the subject for which I came."

"Well," said my friend, smiling, "and what did they say to that?"

"Oh, nothing!" I replied. "It matters very little what a small fry like myself thinks about things."

My friend was amused, and seemed to understand my disappointment. "It is like that sometimes," he said. "I know what it is to be sent off with sticks and stones too."

"In the afternoon,' I continued, "I was present with some friends who proposed to have a Bible reading, instead of wasting the time in idle conversation. We were unanimous in our consent. So sitting down, we put a kind old gentleman in the chair to preside over us. He took the place complacently, and asked, 'What shall I read?' as if all the Bible was equally familiar to him.

"I said, 'May we have the fourteenth chapter of John?'

"'Certainly!' replied the old gentleman, putting on his spectacles. He first read through the whole chapter slowly, and then began at the beginning to expound it. At length we were obliged to stop him to ask some questions.

"One of the company said, 'What do the words, "I will come again," refer to in this passage?'

"He answered, 'That has reference to our dying.'"

"Exactly so," said my friend, interrupting me. "That is what I have always been taught."

I said, "Wait a minute and hear me out first. Someone in the meeting asked, 'How can our dying or going to Christ mean the same thing as His coming to us or for us?'

"Our good friend in the chair replied, 'It is not worth our while to discuss that, for it comes to the same thing in the end. All the best commentators are agreed in the interpretation I have given you. I know,' he added, 'there are some new-fangled people nowadays who say they believe otherwise, but these are by no means men of standing or reputation.'

"I was content to be reckoned among the men of no reputation, new-fangled or otherwise, and could not help saying that I thought the Lord literally meant what He said, and that His departure referred to in this chapter [see v3] is not His death, but His ascension; and that His coming again is His return in the air to receive His people to Himself.

'"I do not agree with you,' said the chairman, 'and we must not go into any controversy about this disputed matter.'

"There that Bible reading ended, and we learned nothing more."

"Do you mean to say," asked my friend, "that you take these words simply and literally as they are?"

"Yes," I replied, "most certainly I do. But be patient and wait a little longer, and I will tell you more about that eventful day. I never hear or read that chapter without thinking of it.

"In the evening I was going to an Evangelistic service, and on my way promised to call for my friend, Blind John, a rejoicing Christian. As I approached his house he came out to the gate, led by his little granddaughter.

"When we had exchanged the 'time o' day,' as he called it, I gave him my arm and we went along together. On the road I said to him, 'Well, John, and what have you been reading today?'

"He answered readily, 'We have been upon John fifteen.'

"'Ah,' I replied, 'and when did you read the fourteenth chapter?' He called it reading, though his granddaughter read to him.

"'The fourteenth!' he repeated. "Why, that there set me a-shouting yesterday. To think that the blessed Lord is gone to heaven to prepare a place for me, bless Him! And that He is coming again to receive poor old me to be along with Him, that where He is, I am to be! Oh, I could ne'er stand that quietly. I was obliged to let my soul praise the Lord!'

"The happy old man suited his actions to his words, and taking his arm out of mine, stood still, and began to praise the Lord in the middle of the road.

"I said, 'Did you not frighten the little girl?'

"'Oh, dear no; she be used to it, she be. I am like that, yer see. I cannot keep it in. It's no matter to me who's there − it must come out!'

"It was so indeed, for John used to demonstrate both in season and out of season too. The dear man could not see with his natural eyes, and it was as though his spiritual vision was all the more active and clear in consequence."

"But," said my friend, "he was only an uneducated man. You would not prefer his testimony to that of the learned?"

I answered, "Yes, indeed I should, if he were taught of God, and they were not. I would rather trust a man who believes the Word of God fully, than a man, however learned he may be, who only tries to understand it."

"I know," remarked my friend, "many converted men who do not see the Lord's coming!"

"They would see it," I said, "as clearly as they see other truths, if they would look at it. The prophecies concerning the Lord's future coming are as clearly set forth in Scripture as those of His first coming. And if the one has been literally fulfilled, we may reasonably expect the other will be also."

"Where," he asked, "can I find the texts and prophecies you refer to?" As if he were eager to begin the study of prophecy right off.

"If you will follow my advice," I said, "I recommend you to take up one point or step at a time. For the present, take, for instance, the Lord's prediction in this now famous chapter, 'I will come again to receive you unto Myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.'

"We have a confirmation of this promise in the first chapter of the Acts. There we read, 'This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen Him go into heaven' [Acts 1:11]. The disciples returned to Jerusalem with this hope set before them, 'and were continually in the temple praising and blessing God' [see Luke 24:52-53]." My friend said, "I do not ask in the spirit of controversy, but how are we to be received by the Lord?"

I answered, "The apostle Paul tells us that the Lord Jesus Christ will come from heaven, where He now is, to the air or heavenlies, to change our vile body that it may be fashioned like unto His glorious body [Philippians 3:21]. God has not appointed us as believers unto wrath − that is, to the tribulation which is coming upon the world − but to salvation, that, 'whether we wake or sleep' − that is, whether we be alive on the earth, or have departed hence and are asleep as to our bodies − we shall live together with Him [see 1 Thessalonians 5:10].

"This change of our bodies is absolutely necessary to fit us for the presence of the Lord in His glory. It is more certain than even death itself. For the same Apostle says, 'We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed. This corruptible shall put on incorruption, and this mortal shall put on immortality' [1 Corinthians 15:51-52]."

"When may we expect this to take place?" asked my friend.

I replied, "At any time. Christ may call for His people at midnight, at cock-crowing, or in the morning. He has purposely left us without sign or token that we may be like servants, always ready and waiting for the Master [see Matthew 24:44]. This is our hope, and the hope also of those who have departed to be with Christ − the hope which unites the one family in heaven and earth named after God."

24. The Dying Soldier's Peace

John 14:27

I WAS taken one day to see a gentleman who was ill. He was resting, or rather I should say was against his will compelled to rest. He was somewhat impatient about his illness, and thought it very hard that he should be thus laid aside. He said, "There is a great work to be done, and no one to do it!" as if the world could not possibly go on without him.

I suggested, "It is the Lord's work, and perhaps you have not sufficiently trusted Him about it."

"No, sir," he said, "I do trust the Lord."

I continued, "Then perhaps you have kept the work too much in your own hands, and not allowed others to participate."

"Sir," he said, "there is no one else to do it!"

"There was a time," I answered, "when you could not do it. You must not forget how you were drawn out of your shell and encouraged by others to go to work. We should do all we can to bring out other workers."

The poor gentleman was rather testy, and thought I did not comfort him at all.

"You seem to me," I said, "to be like a bird in a cage, beating its breast against the wires, wanting to get out, but cannot."

"Yes, yes, that is like me."

"Well," I answered, "I cannot help thinking that if you want comfort, you had better get away from the wires to your perch, and sit there and sing."

His wife began to laugh.

"What are you laughing at, my dear? Laughing at me, are you?"

"I was thinking," she said, "that it would be better for you to sit on the perch and sing 'Thy will be done,' than fret and fume all day long as you do."

"And pray what am I to sing about?" he said in a sulky way.

"Madam Guyon," I remarked, "was once in prison for her faith. It was a hard winter, and she was shut up in a stone cell without fire. She drew the curtains round her bed to keep herself as warm as she could, and also to preserve her favourite bird. Instead of fretting and murmuring, she was submissive.

"The thought came to her mind one day, 'Why do I keep that bird in its cage except to sing to me? Perhaps that is what God has placed me in this cage for, to sing to Him.' Then and there she began to write some beautiful hymns, the best she ever wrote. Time has passed, and her imprisonment is over; but her hymns live on to cheer and encourage many a weary and drooping saint."

The conversation led on from one thing to another, till at length my friend told me how he was brought to God. It was during the Crimean War.

He said, "I, as a young officer, was going forward to the trenches when I saw a soldier lying under a stone fence. It was a bitter cold day, and I could not bear to see this poor fellow dying there. So going up to him, I offered help.

"'Oh, dear no, thank you, sir,' said the soldier with a happy smile. 'I want nothing more now − I am just home.'

"I said, 'Do let me bring you some water.'

"'Thank you very much,' he replied, 'but I do not need it.'

"Seeing that I was anxious to do him some kindness, he at length bade me open his knapsack and take out a Testament. I did so. Looking at it and then at me, he said, 'My dear mother gave me that.' And in a moment his eyes filled with tears. 'Find,' said the dying man, 'the fourteenth chapter of John, and towards the end you will see a verse beginning, "My peace I give unto you." I found it and read it to him. 'Peace I leave with you; My peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid' [John 14:27].

"'Thank God,' said the soldier, 'that is better than a drink of water. I have that peace. Do read it again.' I read it again, the dear man smiling with happy joy the while. When I had finished he said, 'Please put that precious book into its place again. My number is so-and- so. If you are spared to get home safely, will you apply for my knapsack with the Testament, and take it to my dear mother? You will find my address there. Tell her, with my fond love, that you saw me dying in peace − very happy. Farewell!'

"I had to go to the front where in a few hours I was dreadfully wounded myself. While two men were carrying me to the hospital tent in the rear, I asked them, as we were passing, to take me to the dying soldier. On reaching the spot, there was his body with a face glowing with joy, but his spirit had gone home. 'Ah!' I said, 'that dear man had peace, but I have it not.'

"I was carried to the hospital and laid down amongst many other groaning and suffering ones. My pain was very great, but all the time I was lying there I was praying for pardon and peace. 'Oh, for Jesus' sake, give me peace!'

"After some suffering hours, I found peace. My wounds were dressed, and gradually I recovered, though I have never been so strong as I used to be. I came back to England invalided, and have been working for the Lord ever since."

"Yours is a most interesting story," I said, "but it does not appear to me that you have really found true peace yet. If you had, you would not be so restless, or so full of worry and trouble as you are."

He made no answer, so I continued. "That dear soldier you have been telling me about was lying under far worse and more trying circumstances than you are. And yet he had peace − a triumphant conquering peace, which even the pains of death could not take from him. He was indeed a triumphant soldier, and one whose example we should do well to follow."

My friend still remaining silent, I said, "There are three kinds of peace, so to speak. The first is the peace before the war, the peace of death, which is broken up when conviction comes. Next, there is a peace when your sins are pardoned; but this is not abiding. Lastly, there is that peace the soldier had, the peace of God; that peace which the world can neither give nor take away.

"It is a matter of gift on God's part, and of reception and experience on ours. The living, risen Christ can give you this. He says, 'Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God; believe also in Me.' You believe in God, who has given you the peace of salvation; believe also in Me. I have overcome the world, the flesh, and the devil; the battle is over. I can proclaim peace; not as the world gives it, by taking away trouble. No, I can give you peace in spite of, and above your troubles, and make you more than conqueror.

"Dear friend," I continued, "you say you have given your heart to God. Now give up your will and accept His will, whatever that may be − sickness or health, no work or plenty of work. This is the peace you want, and it seems to me that you are laid aside so that you may have it. I hope you will."

"Thank you," he said calmly. "You have given me good instruction, and I only wish I could follow it."

"My friend," I said, "there is nothing else for you to do. With thanksgiving let your request and prayer be made known to God. Yield up yourself entirely − spirit, soul, and body − to the Lord, to be His on His own terms. Ask Him to sanctify and bless this illness to your soul's health. I am sure your prayer will be heard."

"I thank you," said the sick one, "for your advice. It commends itself to me. When I have been exhorting others, and trying to teach them to trust in the Lord for everything, I have felt more than once that I was not trusting Him myself as I ought. Do you mean that I am to trust Him entirely and for everything?"

"Yes," I replied, "that is what I said, and it is what I mean."

"But how can I do it?" he asked, in a very different tone to that in which he had been speaking before.

"I will ask you a question," I said. "How did you give yourself up as a lost sinner to be saved? In the same way give up yourself a second time, as a saved sinner to be kept. You will be surprised to find what a change it will make in your whole life. It is a blessed thing to know that the Lord is my Shepherd. For what is the good of all His shepherding if He is not mine, to shepherd me? As a child of God you are sure to be tempted and assailed by the world, the flesh, and the devil."

"Yes," he said, "I know that."

I continued, "Sheep are poor defenceless things. They cannot stand against the wolf, the bear, or the lion. They need the shepherd to protect them, and so do you."

"I will − I do give myself up to Him altogether," said my friend vehemently. "But," he added, as if a thought had suddenly come to his mind, "suppose I fall from that!"

"My dear friend," I said, "rather suppose that you will not fall from that. Do not look for defeat, but for victory. Besides, remember that when you speak of falling, you imply two things − one, that you are holding Christ, not He holding you. Secondly, that though He is holding you, yet He may let you go. Will a mother let her child fall? She may, but Christ never. Trust Him one day at a time, and if you find a whole day too long for your little faith, then trust Him for six hours, or three, or one. You need Him every hour, even when you have Him. Cleave to Him with purpose of heart."

"Oh," said my friend, throwing up his hands, "if I can only learn this lesson, I shall thank God to all eternity for this illness which I have been fretting against so long."

"Yes," I said, "sit on your perch and sing. Nothing will help your prayers and faith so much. 'Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your heart and mind through Christ Jesus.'" [Philippians 4:6-7.]

25. The Fruitless Tree

John 15: 6, 8

CALLING one day upon a clerical friend, I found him in his garden apparently in some trouble. He said, "Here is a pear tree which has been a very fruitful one for a long time, but for the last few years there has been no fruit whatever on it. There it is, looking as well as ever, you see. It shows plenty of blossom, but for all that it is fruitless. My man wants me to have it cut down and burnt, but I cannot make up my mind to condemn the old friend."

From the remembrance of a similar case, I suggested to him that perhaps the tap-root had penetrated into some uncongenial cold soil, or into clay. I said, "Why not dig down and see if such is the case? And if so, cut off that root or remove the clay."

My friend was delighted at any proposition which was likely to spare his tree. He immediately sent for the gardener, and in a very short time discovered the cause of unfruitfulness. It was as I had intimated; the tap-root was in clay, and could not prosper there. The root was cut, and the clay removed as much as possible, and good warm earth put in its place.

When I revisited my friend two years after this, he told me that his pear tree had borne plentifully the previous year, and was likely to do the same in the present season. The fruit had set well, and there was a rich promise.

"I have often thought of that tree," I said. "It is quite a parable in itself."

"A parable," said my friend, "of what, and in what way?"

Evidently he intended to draw me out. I answered, "I look upon it as a parable of a believer's fruitfulness. There are multitudes of believers who are not fruitful. They themselves were brought to God by the instrumentality of some person, or perhaps of more than one, directly or indirectly, yet it never seems to enter their minds that it is a duty as well as a privilege to be instrumental in their turn to bring others. Such people are branches in the vine, and they are taken away − that is to say, their privilege and opportunity of winning souls for Christ is taken away. They live and die as barren trees."

"Do you think," asked my friend, "that a 'branch' means a believer?"

I replied, "In one sense it does, for every believer is intended to be a witness. A branch is a witnessing believer. If he or she does not bear witness, the privilege which constitutes that character is taken away."

"Then in the same way," said my friend, "I suppose the fig tree was not a figure of the Jewish people in the abstract, but of them as witnesses for God in their time. They did not testify to the Gentiles for God, and therefore the fig tree was withered from the roots. But it is to be revived; and when the fig tree blossoms again, then the Lord will appear with power and great glory."

"Yes," I said, "I agree with you. The fig tree is, to the Jew, what the vine branch is to us in this dispensation."

"But," added my friend, "what does it mean about a branch being cast into the fire and burned?"

"You must remember," I answered, "that the husbandman does not do this. It is written, 'Men gather them, and cast them into the fire.' Men do that. Is it not true that they give no quarter to a fallen brother, who, it may be, was once fruitful in testimony? It is a great mistake to suppose that this fifteenth chapter of John has any reference to the subject of salvation. It refers to fruitfulness only. When believers neglect or abuse their privileges, we see how they are removed from them, or the privileges taken away.

"You and I know a man," I said, "who began with much hesitation and timidity to work for God. He felt his own unfitness very much, though he dared not refuse the opportunity of service. He therefore threw himself upon God, and not in vain, for God took him in hand and used him greatly. While he thus continued abiding in Christ the Vine, the sap flowed from the tree into the branch, and he was sustained and blessed.

"After a time he became used to his privileges, and well acquainted with texts and their application. Being familiar with the manner of the Lord's work, he unhappily began to trust in himself and his experience, instead of abiding in Christ. He thought he knew how to work, and therefore did not continue to pray as confidingly as before. The tap-root, so to speak, was gone from the rich soil into the cold clay of self. No wonder his life was fruitless! He became unhappy and powerless; and this man, who used to be a terror to sinners, is now a laughingstock to them."

"What!" said my friend, "has he gone back to the world?"

"No, I do not mean to say that. He is a believer still, but not a happy one. Our salvation does not depend upon our fruitfulness, but upon our believing in Christ who died. Our fruitfulness depends upon our abiding in Him. The gentleman I am speaking about did not abide, and for this reason is cast off into barrenness. Your tree did not cease to be a pear tree because it did not bear fruit."

"Shall we go to him," said my friend, "and tell him the story of the tree and its restoration? It may be a lesson to him."

"By all means," I replied. "But would it not be better to send for him here, and show him the very tree? Its lesson might be more effectual."

Upon a set day we three met at the house, and in the course of the afternoon walked in the garden. Our attention was directed to the tree which had been so fruitless, and we spoke of the cause why it had been so. We spoke also of the way in which it had been restored to its present fruitful condition.

Our visitor was evidently much interested, but he did not appear in the least to take to himself the application of the subject. It was a delicate matter to unfold the spiritual meaning of the parable and to apply it as we wished. Eventually we read together the fifteenth chapter of John; and even this, with all the remarks we made upon it, did not come home. Either our friend was very dense, or he was like those who do not wish to understand.

At length I told the story of a servant of God who had been greatly used of Him, and in consequence had a widespread reputation. He was tempted to do a wrong thing, which he kept to himself, and when suspected, he denied it. Though evidence against him was beyond doubt, he yet denied it. He of course lost his power for service, and was despised and abused by the public.

They cast out his name as evil, and would not tolerate him if he attempted to speak. He was a branch cut off and withered. Men gathered him and cast him into the fire. He remained apart from Christ, a dry and useless branch, instead of coming back to Him to obtain forgiveness and restoration. I cannot say that he did not continue to be a believer, though a barren one."

Our visitor was by this time getting restless, and presently showed signs of anger. "Is this why you invited me here?" he said. "Why did you not take me aside privately and tell me my fault, instead of talking at me like this?"

I answered, "It was from real tenderness and regard for your feelings, hoping that God would apply the truth to your soul through the ear of your conscience."

I grieve to add that he went away very angry. I cannot say he was not touched, but to all outward appearance our purpose of love had entirely failed in its result. Alas, how fallen and changed was he for the worse from what he used to be when the candle of the Lord shined upon him! He not only went away angry, but remained for some time in the same mind. Truly he was dry and withered, as if scorched with fire, consequently most miserable, and the time of his captivity was not yet over.

When it was over, he came to himself and remembered the kind effort of his friend who tried so tenderly to awaken him to a sense of his condition. Now he was willing to acknowledge his past fault − willing to return to the Master and take His yoke upon him. Now he strove to abide in Christ, and begged that the Lord would abide in him and use him again. From this time he came out once more into work and usefulness, a wiser man. But alas, the second temple was not equal to the first.

There is nothing like starting into the harvester battlefield in the burst of one's first love, and keeping to it. It is well to remember that the work is not ours, but the Lord's, and that it must be done by Him. The branch does not carry the tree, but the tree the branch; and it is the tree also which supplies the sap of vital energy. It is for fruitfulness that the Lord bids us abide in Him, as a branch abides in a tree, and to let Him abide in us as the sap which is the life of the tree abides in the branch.

"If we abide in Him, and He in us, we shall bring forth much fruit," and in this way glorify the Father. Fruitfulness does not consist so much in our living holy and without blame to ourselves, as in living so as to recommend God and His salvation to others.

It is a grievous thing when people who have been instrumental in fruitfulness go back into barrenness. But it is grievous also to see people endeavouring to live a holy life, merely for themselves − cultivating holy ways and holy thoughts − supposing that the salvation of souls is a kind of elementary work only fit for young converts to be engaged in.

It was Christ's great mission in this world to save sinners, and it should be the high mission of all who are His followers to do the same.

26. The Comforter

John 16:8

SOME English words have strangely passed from their original, to a conventional meaning. For example, the word comfort or comforter has glided from its connection with "strength" to denote kindness and sympathy. When this word of Latin and classical derivation was first imported into our Saxon language, it had its own original meaning.

For instance, in the Prophet Isaiah we read of workmen who were engaged on a work − it may have been the making of an image. We are told "they helped every one his neighbour; and every one said to his brother, Be of good courage. So the carpenter encouraged the goldsmith, and he that smiteth with the hammer him that smote the anvil, saying, It is ready for the soldering: and he fastened it with nails, that it should not be moved" [Isaiah 41:6-7].

Wycliffe in his translation of this passage, instead of "fastened," as we have it, says, "They comforted with nails." That is, they made the helpless thing to stand seemingly by itself, whereas it was strengthened with nails. The word "comfort" has to do with strength, secretly or otherwise applied, to a thing or person which needs such support.

In this way the Holy Ghost is our Comforter, making us strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. We are not strong in ourselves, though we may think and feel so. Our determinations and resolutions are as weak as we are. Therefore our strength is to sit still. It is in thus yielding up ourselves to God that we are made partakers of His strength and His salvation.

A young man of my acquaintance, though intelligent and zealous about everything he undertook, was yet prayerless and indifferent about his soul's welfare. In this most important and vital matter he was inconsistent with himself. When it was put before him as very unreasonable that he should be so earnest about temporal things and so careless about those which concerned his best welfare, he tried to justify himself. He said he attended church and had respect for religion and religious people, but somehow 'he did not desire to be one of that class.'

I remarked to him, "You are so honourable and exact about worldly things. Why are you so cold about heavenly things?"

He answered in an offhand kind of way, "Oh, I don't know."

"Generally speaking," I replied, "when you do not know a thing, you go straight at it till you do know."

After a little hesitation he said, "I am not indifferent about these things by choice. The fact is, I cannot help myself. I used to like religion very much when I was a boy, but all the warm feelings I had then are gone from me."

I inquired, "Have you ever made a stand against this drifting away? Have you called upon God to help you?"

"Yes, I have, and have done my best to stand against the world and its temptations, but it has been of no use. I cannot do it; my resolutions are as weak as the bands with which they bound Samson. He broke them easily. If I cannot keep earthly resolutions, how am I to keep heavenly ones?"

He spoke feelingly, as if from a disappointed heart. I felt for him very much, and said, "You seem to think that resolutions about heavenly things are harder to keep than those which concern earthly things. Would you be surprised to hear that it is just the other way? With heavenly things you have God on your side. Satan does not care to hinder your earthly resolves. But as to the heavenly ones, he decidedly objects to your carrying them out. This is what makes it appear harder, whereas his opposition in this respect is one of the most encouraging signs you can have. 'Resist the devil,' and go forward with your good resolves in the name of the Lord."

"It is hard lines for a fellow," he said. "It is more easily said than done. I don't know what to do."

"My dear young man, God does not ask you to do your best and make resolutions, but He desires that you should come to Him with your weakness and your sins. Surely this is a far easier plan than yours. True religion is not your work, but God's work in you by His Holy Spirit. Your religiousness, or your conscience, is not the Holy Spirit. God does not say to you or such as you, 'Trust to your own effort,' but He does say, 'They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.' That is, you shall change your strength, so that instead of being strong in yourself, you shall be strong in Him. Instead of struggling and dragging yourself as before, you shall 'mount up with wings as eagles; you shall run and not be weary, walk and not faint' [Isaiah 40:31]. The Holy Ghost begins by showing us how helpless we are. Evidently He has begun with you, and you did not know it."

"Oh, I have had a lot of that," he said, "and no mistake. I feel helpless enough."

"I am thankful to hear you say so, but you must remember that is only one side of the work. The Holy Spirit does not show us our weakness to leave us there, but in order to bring us to One who is willing and able to help us. To prepare you for seeing the Lord, He makes you see yourself first. Therefore His primary work is to convince you of sin; not to lead you, as you seem to suppose, to some goodness, but to show you that you do not believe in Christ."

"What!" he exclaimed. "I, not believe in Christ? Who do I believe in then? I have believed in Him from childhood."

"I do not doubt you, but you have not believed in Him in the right way, or you would be different to what you are. 'He that believeth hath everlasting life.' Can you say you have everlasting life?"

"No, I do not think I can," he answered.

I continued, "Believing about Christ is what anyone can do, but believing in Him is a supernatural thing."

"How am I to do that then?" he asked.

"Cease your doings," I said, "and let the Spirit of God work in you. The Holy Spirit who shows us how lost we are, can penetrate us also with a sense of our salvation in Christ. By the work of the Spirit we may be as clearly convinced of righteousness as we are of sin. We are saved in Christ when we believe, as surely as we are lost when we are out of Him."

Seeing that he was attentive, I continued, "The Divine Spirit does not merely impart light to the understanding, but writes as with the finger of God His truth upon the heart, so that it becomes a part of your being − a conscious experience."

"I am conscious of one thing," he said. "I know I cannot pardon or save myself."

"Thank God for this beginning," I said. "Now go on to trust the Holy Spirit, and He will show you as clearly that you are accepted in Christ before God. He was made sin for you, that you might be made the righteousness of God in Him."

My young friend, looking up said, "And I thank Him for it."

"Acknowledge His presence and Word," I said, "and He will bring you out of darkness into forgiveness and liberty."

"Oh, I thank you so much!"

"No, no, thank Him first," I said. "I am sure you will soon experience the change I have mentioned."

"I will. I do thank Him," he said, and went away seemingly much encouraged.

He humbled himself under the mighty hand of God, and God exalted him. The next time I saw him, he was rejoicing in the work of the Spirit and the salvation of his soul. I directed his attention to the sixteenth chapter of John and eighth verse, where he read, "When He is come, He will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment."

"Observe," I said, "it is first conviction of sin, next of righteousness, and then of judgment. Note, it is not of 'judgment to come,' as some people say, but the judgment of Satan, the prince of this world, which is done and past. Your enemy is a chained lion now, and cannot go a link beyond his chain. As far as you are concerned, he is no longer going about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour."

From this time I noticed how earnestly he studied his Bible, and soon I saw him engaged in conversation with another young man. He was explaining to him the way of faith.

"Don't you see," he said, "that salvation is of the Lord? It is His work from beginning to end − from the time He pardoned your sins, to the day when He changes your body into a glorious one like His own. You must not dare to do anything towards your salvation, because the Lord has done it all. But you may work like any slave for the glory of God and the good of souls, for love of God's dear Son."

This young man became a devoted worker, one who honoured the Holy Ghost, and never attempted to work in his own strength. He saw distinctly that the Holy Ghost is now personally in the world, even as Christ was in the days of His flesh; and that His work is to prepare the way for Christ in the hearts and consciences of men.

It is a blessed thing to bear in mind continually that the chief object of our salvation is to glorify God in being witnesses for Christ. God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, shines in our hearts, not merely to enlighten us, but to give His light to others: "The light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ."

"We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us" [2 Corinthians 4:7].

It is sadly true that we may not have success in every case, for the light shines often in darkness when the darkness comprehendeth it not. The god of this world, Satan, is very busy to blind the minds of those who will not believe, lest the light of the glorious Gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine into them.

Still, whatever discouragement we may meet with, we must go on, for we know not which will prosper this or that. Our discouragement and disappointment is but fellowship with the Lord, who has far more reason to be disappointed than we have.

27. Answered Prayer

John 16:23

CALLING upon a lady one afternoon, I met a clergyman in the drawing room. My fellow visitor was dressed in a severe style, that is to say, he had a long coat with a high plain collar. Indeed, it was a would-be cassock which he averred was the correct dress for a "priest." I told him that at one time I thought I was a priest, and therefore went about in a real cassock, and for several years had not a coat to my name.

"Indeed," he said, looking at me with surprise; "and why did you alter your style?"

I replied, "I put on a cassock because I thought I was a priest, and left it off when I found that I was not a priest at all of that kind − that is, of the Romish type."

"Most earnest men," he said somewhat sarcastically, "go up from Low to High Church, but you seem to have gone the other way."

"Yes, indeed," I rejoined. "The former is man's way, but the latter is God's. Saul of Tarsus was a decided High Churchman among the Jews; but when it pleased God to convert him, he was saved not only from his sins but from Judaism also. Afterwards he became free from the system in which he had been bound. He gloried in being an Israelite, but far more in being a child of God and an heir of glory. It is rather too High Church to put church above Christ. Do you not think so?"

"Certainly," he replied, "if anyone does that!"

"Why, my friend, you do," I said. As he looked incredulous, I continued. "Just now you were speaking of a converted man as a schismatic. You called him so because he was separate from the Church of England; whereas others who are strict members of the Church, though unconverted and separate from Christ, you do not regard as schismatics. You consort with dead souls, and call living ones schismatics. Is not this putting the Church above Christ, or at least in His place?"

I continued, "The schismatic you refer to has joy and peace in believing in the Lord Jesus Christ. Have you peace?"

"No," he said thoughtfully. "Mr. B. says the Church of England cannot give peace."

"Oh," I exclaimed, "for once I agree with Mr. B. In former times, when I was wrong myself, I used to go with him fully. That is not the case now."

"But," replied my friend, "Mr. B. says the Church of Rome can give peace!"

"There I part from him again. I should say it is a very false peace that the Church of Rome can give, or really no peace at all. The apostle Paul had peace."

"Of course," added my friend, "Paul the Apostle had peace. I do not doubt that!"

"But," I replied, "in the Epistle to the Romans he says, 'Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ' [Romans 5:1]. I have peace in the same way, and you may have it too."

"Mr. B. is a holy man," he answered, "and he says we cannot have peace in this world."

"Out upon his holiness!" I exclaimed. "He knows nothing about it. Let him speak for himself. I do not care to dispute with you about Mr. B., but let me make a proposition to you. I believe you are a man of prayer. Will you pray at 'Compline,' and ask God if there is any peace to be had in this world? You know the Lord says, 'If ye shall ask anything in My name, I will do it [John 14:14]. I will promise to offer the same prayer for you at nine o'clock tonight. Will you pray for yourself?"

He promised he would, and after a little more talk we separated. Accordingly, I prayed that evening, and found so much access and liberty that I felt sure prayer was, or would be answered. I therefore looked out for a letter from my friend, as he had promised to let me know when he received an answer to his definite petition.

Several weeks passed by, and yet there was no letter. Christmas came and went, and the New Year set in − and yet no letter. At length, about the middle of January, I saw the tall figure of my friend in his unmistakable long coat coming towards me.

We were on the same pavement, and were sure to meet, so I inwardly prayed for a word for him. When I looked up again he had vanished. There was no house near, but merely a small tobacco shop. I did not think he would go into that. Where was he? Had I seen his ghost, or what?

However, I went into the shop to inquire, but the people there said they had not seen anyone. I was surprised. When I came out I observed beside the shop a narrow passage where they kept the shutters closed in the daytime. My friend had carried his long figure into that place to avoid me.

"Oh, there you are!" I said. "Come out of that dirty place, I want to speak to you."

He answered with averted face, "I promised Mr. B. I would not speak to you again."

"That is right, then; you have now broken your bad promise. Come out and tell me all about it."

He did not speak, so I continued. "That night I prayed for you, I received such encouragement that I have ever since been expecting to hear good news about you."

"Yes," he said, "that night I prayed too, as we agreed; and the next morning, when I sat down to think about sermons for the Christmas festival, I came upon the words, 'Peace on earth.' I nearly started from my chair!"

"What made you do that?" I said. "Had you never read those words before?"

"Yes, indeed, but this time they came upon me in such a way that I was astonished!"

"Thank God for that!" I said. "See how He answers prayer. What did you do then?"

"I wrote a short sermon about peace on earth, and had immense pleasure in doing it. My thoughts flowed so freely that I rejoiced in writing, and afterwards in reading what I had written. I had also much joy in preaching that sermon. I thought everyone would like it as much as I did.

"When I returned to the vestry after preaching, I expected the Vicar to shake hands and thank me, I was so happy. But alas no, he looked as black as thunder, and said, 'Where did you get that Lutheran heresy from?'

"I was amazed at this, and told him about you. 'Avoid that man,' he exclaimed, 'if you love me. Promise you will not speak to him again.' I was so taken aback, that I did promise."

"That does not matter now," I said. "Bad promises are better broken than kept. If you love your soul, you had better take care how you neglect God's teaching. If ever a man had a direct answer to prayer from God Himself, on the subject of 'Peace on earth,' you had it."

"You know," he said, "I cannot go against the Vicar."

"Well, in that case, the choice lies between God and Mr. B. Would you rather serve the Vicar than God?"

However, in spite of every persuasion, I could make no way with him. He seemed to prefer loyalty to his chief, and left me without making any further promise.

For three months or more he disappeared; yet I fully expected he would be brought out of the bondage in which he was, though I did not know how.

At the end of this time, without any invitation or communication, he came to see me. He was in evident trouble and fear.

He said, "When I was preparing my sermon for Easter, I noticed that the first words our risen Lord said to His disciples were, 'Peace be unto you.' I wrote," he continued, "six sermons upon this subject. When I delivered the first, the Vicar did not object personally, though I saw he did not like it. He sent one or two of the 'Sisters,' however, to speak to me, and try and dissuade me from error.

"I told them that that sermon was only the first of a series; that I had five more. The second one brought the Vicar down upon me, but I did not fear him so much this time. I told him that God had spoken peace to my soul, and I was sure my sins were pardoned. He walked straight out of the vestry.

"I was not permitted to go into the pulpit again, but I continued to preach my sermons in the mission room. Here the people flocked to hear what I had to say. Certainly the interest they showed in my words was greater than they had ever manifested before. The Vicar bade me cease preaching and go. He said he would excommunicate me if I did not."

"My dear friend," I said, "you will be none the worse for that."

However, he was not willing to risk it. He feared to go back, yet he feared also to go away. In his perplexity I gave him letters to a brother clergyman in the West who was then needing assistance. "Go and help him," I said, "and he will help you."

He did go, and at once found himself in another atmosphere. Indeed, as he said, "Quite in another world − it was next door to heaven!"

Here he derived much benefit and strength, so that in a little while he felt as bold as a lion and longed to go back to his own parish. As he could not do that, he accepted a nomination elsewhere.

But it was a long time before he got clear of his ecclesiastical grave clothes. A subsequent Vicar speaking to me of him one day said, "He is a dear fellow, you know − on the rock. But there is a deal of rubbish upon him still. Just think, in his sermon the other day he said, 'The finest sight out of heaven is an altar dressed for Easter.' He startled me, I can tell you; and no sooner had he uttered the words, than he was startled himself."

He learned after this to trust in a Living Christ, and gave up his conscience to the Lord's keeping. Under such a perfect Priest and Guide he made much progress in the Divine Life. To his dying day he enjoyed peace: that peace which the world could not give, and could not take away.

28. The Casket

John 18:15

THE intercession of Christ is the foundation of all other intercession, and the source of all successful work. When a soul is saved, it is through the efficacy of the prayer which the Saviour offered upon the cross. When His blood began to flow, He prayed, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." It was this petition that availed before God for the dying thief, and millions more in the same way have received similar blessing.

Again, when believers are kept, it is through the intercession of Christ at the Throne of Grace. There He pleads, as we are taught in the seventeenth chapter of John, that His people may be one with Him, even as He is one with His Father. He prays also, not that they should be taken out of the world, but kept from the evil that is in it.

From this we gather it is His will that believers should be His witnesses in this world, and show to those who are walking in darkness and the shadow of death that there is reality and power in the grace of God to give salvation to sinners.

There were two young ladies of great promise who occupied a high position in the world; and besides this had, as it is often said, "good prospects." But it pleased God to lay His hand upon them − not by placing them upon a bed of sickness and pain, or by drawing them to the gates of death. But better still, by bringing them under deep conviction of sin. They together sought the Lord earnestly, and in due time found Him, and were found of Him. They both rejoiced exceedingly in their newly-acquired happiness, and took every opportunity of bearing testimony upon the subject of salvation.

The elder sister was soon after this taken home to be with Jesus, and went away full of peace and joy upon a triumphant deathbed. The other one remained mourning for some time in solitude. She felt her loss very keenly, having accustomed herself to lean, perhaps too much, upon her sister. The scoff and scorn of the outer world, to which they had formerly belonged, had drawn them very close to one another, and both together to the Lord.

The Blessed Master, who knows what is best for us, was pleased to separate them; and in this way teach them to lean upon Himself. The one was taught this lesson on her bed of sickness, and to the other it was reserved to learn it in health and prolonged life. She was led to carry her sorrow to the Lord. She did this; and He who is ever ready to weep with those that weep, comforted her greatly and drew her near to Himself.

She, who had already given up her sins and the world with all its pleasures, now came a second time to the Lord to yield up herself. She surrendered herself, and laid her all upon the altar, desiring henceforth to be wholly consecrated to the Lord's service.

Some people argue that one surrender is enough, and that they do not need another. This may be so. God is not bound to lead everyone in the same way. However, He led her most distinctly in the way of two surrenders − one as a sinner for pardon and justification, and the other as a believer for sanctification.

We may notice that the Lord Himself made, and still makes, two intercessions in our behalf. The one He made upon the cross, and the other He is now making at the Throne of Grace. The former was for His murderers. When His blood began to flow, and while it was still warm, He said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!" I need not say that this prayer was answered then and there in the forgiveness of the dying thief, and has continued to be answered ever since in the salvation of millions.

The Lord, who prayed so effectually upon the cross, now lives to make further intercession for every believer whom His Father has given unto Him. If His prayer for sinners and rebels was heard, how much more will that which He is now making for His own people be remembered before God! [See Romans 5:10.]

It was under the power of this intercession that our friend's life was prolonged in this world, and that she was kept from the evil of it. [See John 17:15.]

When she loved the world and its pleasures, she was free from righteousness or its calls; but now that she was changed by grace, she was free from sin and the entanglements of the world, and became the servant of God. As such, she was happier than ever she had been before and rejoicing in God her Saviour she lost no opportunity of testifying and working for Him.

People wondered how she could be so happy without the usual conventionalities which they considered were so necessary. On the other hand she rather wondered how immortal beings, who have to live for ever, should be content to spend the time given them to prepare for eternity in such dissipation and trivial amusements.

Our friend was happy in the Lord, and careful for nothing, "but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving," she made her requests "known unto God; and the peace of God, which passeth all understanding," did keep or garrison her heart and mind. The world now was nothing to her. She had finally given it up, or rather had forsaken it for things she loved far better.

This young lady, amongst her other possessions, had a valuable casket of jewels which in her present state of mind she did not need. These jewels had belonged to her grandmother, then to her mother, then to her sister. And now they were hers, but she never wore or even looked at them. She kept them for her mother's sake, and did not wish them to go out of the family. Not that she desired any of her family should be devoted followers of the world, or associates of such, as had pleasure in jewels and trinkets; but some of these friends had declared their determination not to give their hearts to God. Her pleadings with them had hitherto been in vain.

One of these, a very worldly cousin, came to her one day and said, "Ella, how is it you never wear any of your lovely jewels? Surely it is not sin to wear a rich brooch or a diamond ring, is it?"

She answered, "I have no taste for such things now. And as to my jewels, I have no longer any use for them, nor do I wish to have. I would dispose of them all at once, but that I do not like them to go out of the family. A happy thought strikes me," she added. "Suppose I give them to you. Will you promise to keep them in the family? − and you shall have them for your own."

Her cousin was taken aback. "Oh," she said, "they are worth a great deal of money. I should not like to take them."

"But," answered Ella, "I do wish you would. You know they belonged to your grandmother as well as mine, and it will be such a relief to my mind if you will have them."

As her cousin hesitated, she continued, "With all my heart I wish you were not a worldling, you know; but as you are determined to remain so, you might just as well have these trinkets."

"If you really wish it," she replied, "I will take them. I do not see any sin in wearing a gold chain. I will have them, and thank you too."

So saying, she went forward, kissed her cousin, and took possession of the casket, saying to herself, "If Ella is such a fool as to part with all her jewels, I am not above accepting them."

Before going to bed that night, she carefully surveyed and examined her newly-acquired treasures. The contents of the casket were indeed far more valuable than she thought. The jewels were finer and more in number than she had any idea of. Her thoughts were so full of these things, that when at last she did go to bed, she could scarcely sleep for joy.

She spent the best part of the night thinking over which of the precious ornaments she would wear at the next ball to which she was invited. It was rather difficult for her to decide such a question.

At length the night of the ball arrived, and she went to it, gorgeously bedecked and flashing with her new jewels. She thought that everyone was admiring her ornaments. Some of her friends actually did notice and speak to her of them. She was very pleased with herself and her possessions.

But in the middle of the dance, as she put out her arm with the bracelet sparkling with gems, a sudden thought passed through her mind. "Ella cannot wear these things; she is going to heaven. Where am I going?" The thought haunted her. She said to herself, "I do believe that Ella is in her room praying for me. She is going to heaven. I am going...."

As far as she was concerned the ball was over. She had no more pleasure in it. Depressed and wretched she went home, and kneeling down by her bedside burst into tears. She had light enough to know what to do, and giving her heart to God she found pardon and peace.

She put the bracelet and other jewels which she had been wearing into the casket again, and the following morning went to see her cousin. Going up to her, she said, "Ella, you were praying for me, I suppose, last night when I was at the ball?"

"Yes," was the reply, "I was. And not only for you, but for others besides."

"I thank God for your prayers, dear Ella," said her cousin, bursting into tears. "I have given my heart to God, and now you may expect to have the casket with all its contents back again. I am like you: I have no further use for jewels. Do send them out again on another errand!"

Ella's surprise was as great as her joy. She urged her cousin to continue to own the jewels, and send them out herself. "No, no," was the answer. "I have not such faith yet as you have. You shall have them back."

29. Crossing the Line

John 18:2

WHAT is it to betray Christ? Judas Iscariot, who betrayed the Lord with a kiss, was not a worldly Gentile, nor was he simply a Jew as such. He was one who had professedly come out from the Jews and had openly shown himself to be a disciple and follower of the Lord.

The Lord was not betrayed by a worldly man, nor even a religious man, but by one who professed to be His friend. [See Psalm 41:9.]

Judas consented to be a disciple, accepted office, and exercised the powers and privileges of that office. But for all that, his heart was not given to the Master. In the midst of manifestations of the Divine Presence, he yet was attached to his own idols. Even in the exercise of miraculous power, which was given to him, he was still apart from his Master. Though warned more than once, he remained unconcerned and heedless of his danger.

Is it possible for a man to be so self-deceived? Is it possible that a man can be so entangled in some object or objects of his desire, that he is unconscious of his bondage?

Judas loved money, and instead of avoiding the snare and refusing to handle it, he loved to carry the bag and be the treasurer of the party. It was this love of money that induced him to sell Christ for thirty pieces of silver. Evidently he did not intend that Christ should come into the fatal grasp of those who thus bought Him; for when he saw what was the effect of his deed, he went and poured out the money before the Pharisees, saying, "I have betrayed innocent blood."

"See thou to that," was the heartless answer of the Pharisees, who had thus obtained their long-cherished desire, and cared for nothing else. If Judas had only then and there confessed his sin to Christ, he might have obtained pardon as Peter did, who denied his Lord. Instead of this, the miserable man in his despair went out and hanged himself. This was his damning sin − the sin of unbelief.

I was one day speaking of these things with a well-disposed and very earnest gentleman. He was one who delighted in Bible subjects, and was learned in the Scriptures beyond many of his equals in rank and position. The world accounted him a good and learned Christian, and relied upon his criticisms and expositions of Scripture. Not unjustly so, for besides being a diligent scholar, he was also an accurate observer of the meaning of words.

It was my privilege to come to him again and again for the interpretation of difficult passages of the Bible, and I always found him ready and willing, as he was ready and able, to satisfy my mind. But alas, I saw with all this that he was not a changed man. He even pitied me for the delusion under which he thought I laboured, respecting my conversion. He did not understand about believing from the heart the words of God. All he knew or cared to know was the force and meaning of words, as apprehended by the natural intellect.

I often felt condemned for not speaking out pointedly to him about his state of mind. I did try more than once to pierce through the joints of his harness, but unsuccessfully. Then I thought that I would tell him the story of my own conversion, but that also passed by as an arrow that missed its mark.

On another occasion, I asked him about the sin of Judas. "What was it?" I said. "Can it be committed now?"

He did not think it could.

"What is it, then," I continued, "when a man professes to speak well of Scripture and of the Lord Himself, and yet does not yield his heart to God?"

He did not understand what I meant.

This gentleman perplexed me greatly, for he was very true in his interpretation of Scripture; but for all that he was perfectly dead as to spiritual apprehension. He received the Gospel in word only, not in the power and demonstration of the Spirit.

One day I put the question to him, "What do you think was the damning sin of Judas?"

"Oh," he answered, "his unbelief. He had no business to go and hang himself in his mistake − poor fellow!"

From this, and various answers he gave me, I was encouraged to hope for him.

At last came a time when I felt that I must go and speak more directly to him. I did so, but found him inaccessible as usual. He was more for teaching me than receiving anything from me. In my disappointment I got up to leave, but before doing so desired to propose prayer. This I did in a way, but he did not encourage the idea. I suppose he thought that the prayer of one who knew so much less than himself could do but little good.

However, contrary to his usual custom, he walked with me out into the garden on the way to the gate. This gave me encouragement to speak again, and again I received the usual evasive answer. Just as we were approaching the gate a thought came to my mind. I drew with the point of my umbrella a line across the gravel path.

"What is that?" inquired my friend.

I did not reply until I had drawn a large letter L on one side of the line and the letter D on the other.

"What are you about?" he inquired again.

"I will tell you," I answered. "That letter L stands for Life, and that D for Death. You agree with me that there is a real line of demarcation between the one and the other."

He said, "Yes, certainly there is. A man is alive until he is dead, and then he is gone."

"Yes," I replied; "and a man is dead until he is made alive."

"What can you mean?" he asked, in some perplexity.

I answered, "I mean that by nature in Adam we are all dead, and that in Christ we are made alive. That letter D," I said, touching it with my umbrella, "stands for death − spiritual death − in which we all are as children of Adam. This letter L stands for life − spiritual life − with spiritual faculties which we may receive from Christ."

"Ha, ha, that is a most ingenious device. I admire that!"

"But, my dear friend," I said, "it is not in order to show my ingenuity that I have drawn it, but in my earnest desire to reach you. I have had many an interview with you, and many a thrust I have made; but hitherto you have parried them all. Now, look at me. I was once on this letter D, but it pleased God to awaken and show me my danger. When I called upon Him in my trouble, He took me from this letter D, and placed me on the letter L."

So saying, I stepped forward across the line and stood upon that letter, inviting him to come and stand with me in the same place.

"You ought to have a patent for that!" he said laughing.

"My dear friend," I said, "in all seriousness you are, as a fact, either on the letter L, or the letter D. If you are on D, you are lost, and you will perish if you die there. This awful truth, I assure you, was burnt into me by the Spirit of God. I do wish you would come and stand on the letter L. Believe me, there are but two states here upon earth, as there are only two hereafter. From the letter D you cannot go to heaven, and from the other you cannot go to hell."

I saw most unmistakably that there was a struggle going on in my friend's soul, so I waited in silence a few seconds for his answer.

To my joy he said, "Will you come back and have prayer with me?"

"Certainly, certainly," I replied. "I will gladly let my train go for this purpose."

As we walked back to the house, he took my arm, saying, "You have been digging at me for a long time. I...." Here he stopped.

"Never mind the past," I said. "We have a good present, and we shall have a better future. We are going to pray. Let us believe for an answer, and we shall be sure to have it."

We were soon upon our knees before the Lord, and after we had each prayed I urged him to believe. I said, "Did not the Blessed Saviour die to give life to dead sinners? Let us thank Him for that."

He did thank God; and as we went on thanking Him, the Holy Spirit opened my friend's eyes to see. Instead, however, of continuing to give thanks, he began to pray again for forgiveness. "Oh," he said, "I never saw my sins before."

"Thank God for that," I answered. "And now look beyond your sins at the blood. The same eyes will do."

Yes, the great change from death into life was come. Only those who have experienced or witnessed such a change can understand what I mean.

My friend walked out once more into the garden. This time he was not upon the defensive, but the reverse. He stood on the letter D, and then, with a "Thank God," stepped over the line to the letter L, giving glory to God.

30. What Do You See?

John 19:30

I WAS travelling one bright summer morning on the outside of a four-horse coach with a fellow traveller who was well acquainted with the country through which we were driving. He kept up such a pleasant conversation that the time passed quickly. He had a legend about this castle, and a story or two about that house; besides a great deal to say about the people of the neighbourhood.

I observed, however, that he said nothing about the churches we passed, though some of them looked as if much that was interesting might be told about them. At length I asked, "What church is that?"

"It is so-and-so," he answered, "and was a fine old place till the present vandal Rector destroyed every sign and token of a church in it. He has made it more like a preaching house than a church!"

"What has he destroyed?" I said.

"Why, there was a stoop for holy water at the entrance − a very ancient one."

"What should he want a stoop for?" I inquired, interrupting him.

"Nothing, to be sure. He did not want such a thing, and therefore removed it. Would you believe it?"

"What else has he removed?" I asked quietly.

"Removed!" he answered indignantly. "There was a lovely rood screen there, one of the best in the neighbourhood − he has torn that down!"

"What did he do that for?" I said.

"Oh, I suppose to let the congregation have a good look at the preacher, or perhaps to open out the choir to public gaze. Some women sing in the chancel."

"I dare say," I remarked, "if the vandal Rector were allowed to speak, he would tell his story of the restoration in another way, and account for his doings in different terms. Do you ever go to that church?"

"I go? No, certainly not. I am a Catholic, sir!"

"Oh," I replied, "that accounts for what you say. Tell me what you want a stoop for, or why a rood screen?"

"A stoop is for holy water, you know, with which to sprinkle or cross yourself when you go into church. And a rood-loft for the holy rood. A church without a rood − what a bare lonely place it would be!"

I said, "If God's Word forbids images, we do not require a loft to rear them upon."

"Excuse me," he answered, "we do not bow down to the rood, anymore than you bow down to your bed when you say your prayers."

"But, my friend," I replied, "the Word of God forbids even the making of images. And as to not bowing down to or worshipping them, I will tell you what a Hindu acknowledged to me one day in India. He said, 'We do not worship images;' and to prove this, told me that once a year they took down their great image and carried it in procession through the streets, with all its rich jewels and ornaments to a particular place. There they stripped the idol, spit upon it, abused it, and eventually broke it to pieces and threw it into the river.

"Then they dressed up another idol, ornamented it with the same jewels, and brought that back with rejoicing, to set it up in their pagoda or temple. Before this image they do their worship, but for all this they say that they do not worship it, but the god it represents. What do you Catholics say and do about your images?"

He answered, "Certainly we do not treat them, or our pictures, in the way you describe; but I maintain we do not worship them."

I said, "What in the world is it that is forbidden in Scripture but this making and setting up of images and bowing down before them?"

He replied, "For instance, look here," at the same time taking a little silver crucifix out of his pocket. "Do you call this an image? I can tell you I would not be without it for something − yet I do not worship it."

"What do you do with it then?" I asked.

"I set it up before me when I say my prayers."

"But why do you set up that idol before you?"

"To help my devotions," he answered, "just as you make use of a stick in walking. You do not walk on the stick. It only helps you as you go on your own feet"

"Let me ask you one question," I said. "What does that crucifix remind you of?"

"Why, it reminds me of the Saviour, of course. He died upon the cross. You know habit is a second nature. I am always accustomed to worship in this way, and I love it!"

"Remember," I said, "the cross is not the Throne of Grace. We, as God's children, are told to pray at the Throne of Grace to our Father in heaven."

"You Protestants," he answered, "do not know us. You think that we are a set of idolaters."

"Certainly," I said, "I must confess that I do not know what an idolater is, if you are not one. I may be ignorant, but tell me now, what interest have you in the Saviour's death, or in other words what do you see in the crucifix?"

He did not appear to understand my question, so I went on to say, "When I look upon a figure or picture of the cross, I see in it not only the sinfulness of my state which required such a sacrifice, but it reminds me also of the wondrous love of Christ in dying for me. It does not stimulate me to pray so much as to thank God for giving His Son to die, and to thank the Lord Jesus for laying down His life to save mine."

"Exactly so," he said. "You have just described my feelings."

"But are they really your feelings? Do you ask the Saviour to save you, or do you thank Him for having done so?"

Seeing that he did not take in my meaning, I asked him the question, "Are you saved? Christ has not to do anything more for you − His saving work is finished."

"'Saved!' he exclaimed. "I am not saved, of course. How can a man be saved in this world?"

"Nay," I rejoined, "how can a man be saved in the next? Did not the Lord come to this world to save men?"

"You do not think," he said, looking at me, "that you are saved?"

"No," I replied, "I do not think about it. I know I am saved, and you may know it too. As sure as the Saviour died to save me, believing in Him, I have salvation. As surely as He shed His blood to procure my pardon, I have forgiveness of my sins."

"Well," he said, "sir, you do surprise me."

"My friend," I added, "if you provided a medicine to cure my fatal disease, and I took it and was not benefited, would not that surprise you? The fact is, you do not really believe in Jesus Christ."

He smiled a little at this remark, but without noticing that, I continued. "You profess and call yourself a Christian, and a Catholic; but for all that, you are not a real Christian. Believing in the Lord's death does not mean believing about it. The devil believes that Jesus is the Son of God; that He died to save sinners, and shed His blood to wash their sins away. Surely you ought to believe more than the devil believes, and in a better way. Believing in Jesus Christ means having Him for your own Saviour − that is, one who has saved you. Believing in salvation means having it."

"I have always been brought up to regard that doctrine as a heretical delusion, sir!"

"Yes," I said, "I dare say you have. So was Martin Luther. He believed as you do, until he knew better. He began with being a staunch whole-hearted Catholic, but it pleased God to awaken him and show him what a sinner he was. While he was in this distress of soul, God sent a friend who asked him whether he believed his Creed. 'Oh, yes,' he answered, 'I believe it firmly.' 'Do you believe in the forgiveness of sins?' 'Yes, yes,' said Martin, 'I do; I do believe; do not trouble me.' 'Do you believe in the forgiveness of David's sins, or Paul's sins, or Peter's sins, or Martin's?'

"He then saw that he believed that article of the Creed about the forgiveness of sins, but only in the abstract. He had never applied it to himself; but when he did so, he rose up thanking God for the forgiveness of his own sins. From that time, he went about declaring and preaching this doctrine.

"By so doing, he was enabled to overturn the Papal power in many places. The Gospel is the only truth which can stand against your beliefs, and when wielded in power, overthrow it. When we come to arguments and evidences, the accumulated wisdom of many good men is greater than private judgment of individuals. But when you have the Gospel in the power of the Holy Ghost, all human arguments and teaching are silenced."

I continued, "Scripture says, that 'the Gospel is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth' − to you as well as to me. But mark, it is in power only to those who believe. The 'righteousness of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ is unto all men' − everywhere; but it is only 'upon them that believe.'"

Bending forward, he asked, "Do you mean to say, then, that it is upon you?"

"Yes," I answered, "thank God, I do. Therefore I do not pray before a crucifix, but thank God upon every remembrance of the death of Christ. I do not need a sign to remind me of it either!"

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "I cannot say that."

After a little pause, he continued, "Then you mean to say that if we were upset in this coach and killed on the spot, you would go to heaven!"

"Yes, I do say so."

"I cannot go so far," he remarked. "I cannot say that I am saved."

"Then do you think you would be lost, if you were killed now?"

As he did not answer, I said, "Putting controversy apart, would it not be better for you to believe on the Lord for yourself, and be saved? If I were you, I would not follow a teaching which did not give me better security in death than yours."

We parted, but not for long. In two days' time he came back to thank me, and thanked God with me. He said, "I see something more in the crucifix now! But," he asked, "do all you Protestants believe like this?"

"Alas! alas!" I replied, "I wish they did; that all those who profess to be Christians were genuine. The death of Christ is for the life of the world!"

31. Controversy

John 20:23

CONTROVERSY is unprofitable for spiritual warfare. It is but a carnal weapon, and is unsatisfactory in its result, even when that result is supposed to be a victorious one.

Truth is not like a picture represented upon the surface of canvas or paper. If it were so, every person would see the same thing, line for line. It is rather like a house, or other object which is pictured. It has different sides, and therefore different aspects.

Let us suppose a church with its east, west, north, and south aspects. A man looking on the east side would see the chancel with its apse and beautiful window; a man on the west side would see the tower or spire; another on the south would see the porch with its moulded arch and niches; and he on the north side would see none of these things, but merely a plain wall with ornamental windows.

Suppose, again, the first man spoke enthusiastically of the apse, whilst the man at the other end declared that the first man was altogether deceived, there was no apse at all, it was a spire. He on the south might say, "You have both omitted one very important feature, the beautiful porch;" and he on the remaining side would pity the vain imaginations of his friends, and declare as a fact there was no apse, no tower, no porch!

How much wiser it would have been if these disputants had each consented to learn from one another, instead of separately contending for his own views. They would then have acquired a perfect and complete comprehension of the whole structure.

I was upon one occasion drawn into a dispute with a gentleman. It was not about any of the four sides mentioned, but about two sides of the Church − the outside and the inside. My friend thought that the words ecclesiastical and spiritual meant the same thing. He had no conception of the important distinction that unhappily exists between them. His idea was that the ecclesiastical system was Christ. He did not distinguish between the ark, and the people who were inside the ark. He thought that the ark was a type of the Church. Indeed, he spoke as if he were perfectly sure of it. He put his foot down and said he could not budge from this position. Then he rose up and stood before me, as Apollyon before Christian in the Valley of Humiliation, determined if possible to annihilate me.

Having myself been on both sides of the ground, I could afford to be still and composed. I well remember the time when I believed only in the ecclesiastical, and knew nothing of the spiritual. I therefore understood his position, and let him speak on. He waxed warmer and warmer, and at length said that those who differed from him were either ignorant or dishonest.

He said, "Nothing can be clearer than the grammatical sense of the words we find in the third, sixth, and twentieth chapters of John's Gospel. The first speaks of regeneration in baptism − the second of feeding upon the body of the Lord, as received in the bread and wine of the sacrament − and the third tells of absolution, or the authority given to the priest to absolve sinners."

I said, "You have given the ecclesiastical meanings to the three passages of Scripture you refer to. I am fully aware that the interpretation you give is essentially necessary for maintaining the theory of a priesthood. It is by this assumed power of priesthood that the Church, as it is called, would hold the keys of heaven. It seems to be taken for granted that a man cannot gain entrance into the Church for his salvation excepting by the priest's baptism, he cannot be sustained there without the priest's sacrament, and he cannot depart in peace without the priest's absolution."

My friend was getting impatient to speak, and the moment I stopped he said, "You are right, I agree with what you say."

"But," I continued, "that is only the ecclesiastical, or outside and earthly view of the subject. Let me now give you the inside or spiritual and heavenly view of these three testing chapters of John's Gospel.

"In the first of these, namely, the third chapter, we believe that we have not the outward or ceremonial act of Christian baptism, but the inward and spiritual grace of that sacrament. This is of vital consequence. It consists in that change of heart which is described as a death unto sin and a new birth unto righteousness, and can only be received from God by a direct act of faith. Observe, it is not by intervention of priests, but by personal repentance whereby we forsake sin; and faith, whereby we steadfastly believe the promise of God.

"Next, as to the sixth chapter of John, we believe that the Lord is not speaking there of sacramental, but of actual spiritual communion. He offers Himself as the Bread "which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world." The Lord adds, 'He that cometh to Me shall never hunger, and he that believeth in Me shall never thirst' [see verses 33-35].

"In other words, it is 'He that is continually coming and is depending upon Me, shall never hunger, and he that is continually believing in Me shall never thirst.' The partaking of Christ referred to here is obviously something which is not done occasionally, as in receiving of the sacrament as some would persuade us, though it may be done in it."

"Pshaw!" exclaimed my friend, "I never heard such nonsense."

"Stop," I said, "hear me out before you pass sentence. I have something more to say. In the twentieth chapter of this Gospel," I continued, "we have the words of the Risen Lord. He says, 'Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them, and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are retained' [John 20:23].

"These words were not spoken to the apostles in particular, but to disciples generally. There may have been women too in that company when the Blessed Lord appeared among them. Men and women who know the Lord, and have a personal interest in His death and resurrection, are expected and required to bear testimony to others of the power of the blood of Jesus to wash away sins.

"When such people proclaim the Gospel, it is not merely as advocates of a dogma, but as witnesses of a reality. When their testimony is blessed, it is the savour of life unto life to those who believe; but to those who do not, it is the savour of death unto death. This is the spiritual view of 'remitting' and 'retaining' sins, mentioned in the text."

My friend was becoming more and more restless. I motioned to him to be still, and went on to say, "The apostles themselves never understood that they were absolving priests, and never exercised any such office. They did not understand the Lord's commission otherwise than I have stated. And you must remember that they were under the direct teaching of the Holy Ghost."

"Then," said my friend with energy, which had been pent up a long time, "according to you, the Church, the sacraments, and the priesthood are all unnecessary."

"Far from that," I replied. "The Church is the body of Christ, of which believers are the spiritual and living members. The sacraments are ordinances by which we show our obedience to our living Head; and the priesthood is that which we share with our High Priest, Christ Jesus, who is inside the veil. At the same time, I positively maintain that neither Church, or sacrament, or priesthood is necessary to salvation. That can only be obtained by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ."

"Then, I suppose you wish me to understand that you are right, and that the Church of all lands and all ages is mistaken." This he said with much emphasis.

"My dear man," I replied, "I am as bad as anyone else personally. But if God has convinced me of the error in which I was, and has burnt His truth into me, am I wrong in showing up the one, and upholding the other?"

"That is not the question," answered my friend. "Is your judgment more to be relied upon than that of the wise and good of all ages?"

I said, "If the wise and good men you speak of were not changed by the work of the Spirit, and confirmed in that change by the Word of the Spirit, then I say they are not to be followed."

"Who is to be the judge, then? These men profess to have been guided by God as much as you do."

"That may be," I replied. "Take an example. Saul of Tarsus was greater and more vehement than his peers, and concerning zeal, beyond them all. He dared to persecute the Church, while they only snarled at it. This man was awakened and changed by the Spirit of God.

"What does he say of those he left behind? 'My heart's desire and prayer to God for Israel is that they may be saved' [Romans 10:1]. Such as you would say, 'What presumption, to suppose himself better than all the good and wise men of his time! Most uncharitable for him to say that they were not saved!' Yet he does not shrink from doing so. Moreover, he says, 'I bear them record that they have a zeal of God; but not according to knowledge' − that is, to the experienced teaching of the Spirit.

"Again, such a one as you would say, 'What conceit to think that he knows, and that they do not!' But notice how he establishes his position by appealing to a fact. He says, 'They, being ignorant of God's righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves unto the righteousness of God' [Romans 10:1-3].

"When I see a man like you, trusting to your own works instead of submitting yourself to the finished work of Christ − when I see you working for life instead of from life, and know that I once did the same thing − I have no hesitation in speaking definitely on the subject. I am sure, indeed confident, with this Word of God in my hand, that I am right."

"Well," said my friend, looking perplexed, "I feel as confident of being right as you seem to do."

"Come, then, let us judge the tree by its fruit. You think the Church is for salvation. Are you saved? Do you think that feeding dead souls with the sacrament can bring them into life? Do you say that your sins are remitted by the absolution of a priest?"

"I cannot say," he answered, "that I have yet got into the presumptuous line in which you are."

"Whether presumptuous or not, I must tell you that I was not saved in, or by the Church. Nor did I get life in the sacrament, or remission of sins by the priest. But by Christ I am saved, and by Him, I am fed and kept in peace − and you may be the same."

He could not see it, and evidently had no desire to do so.

How was it that I expected a man to see before his eyes were opened? How true it is that it is not by might or by power; but only by the Spirit of the Lord that spiritual truth can be implanted in the soul, and spiritual faculties bestowed!

My friend declined prayer, and went his way.

32. Assurance

(Last chapter)

John 21:15-17

A GENTLEMAN came to me one day in a kindly spirit, to put me "right," as he said. He did not care to argue or to complain, but he thought I was injuring my work, or rather the Lord's work, by urging the subject of assurance.

He said, "You know, my friend, assurance is not necessary to salvation."

"Yes, indeed," I replied, "I do. I have assurance on that point. Only faith is necessary for salvation − living faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. But though faith is not necessary to salvation, salvation is necessary for assurance. If you are not saved, how can you be sure of it? On the other hand, if by God's grace you are saved, how can you doubt it?"

"Now, now," said my friend, "do not bewilder me. I say there are many really good people who cannot say they are saved."

"If God has made them good," I said, "they need not fear to say so, and take their stand as God's work in God's name."

"I tell you, I do not like it," he answered. "I do not agree with you."

"I do not for a moment dispute that," I said, "but at the same time I never yet knew a person who had assurance speak a word against it."

This dear gentleman thought that I was incurable, so he left me and went to another church where assurance was not preached.

In the course of the following year he called upon me again, with a bright and happy face. "I say," he exclaimed, "I have got assurance now!"

"Indeed!" I replied. "How is that? Tell me."

"You know," he said, "assurance is to be sure, upon the authority of God's Word, of the reality of His work."

I was pleased to hear such a clear definition of assurance, and could not help asking him where he had learned about it, and how he received this blessing.

"Oh," he said, "my clergyman has been preaching lately with much warmth against assurance; and strange to say, his sermons have convinced me of the necessity of it. He told us that self-confidence was deceptive, and the reliance which many people place in the Church delusive. 'But there is one thing,' he said, "which will stand when heaven and earth have passed away − that is, the Word of God.' He did not tell me in so many words to trust in that, but God did. I see it now − distrust self, and trust in God as revealed in His Word."

"Have you told your clergyman the result of his sermon?" I asked. "You certainly should do so."

No, he had not ventured to do that, but had come to me instead to tell his story. He said, "What struck me so much was not the argument of the preacher, but his reference to Church guidance and self confidence."

I thought to myself, "That man does not know about my past experience, but God, who does, is speaking to me."

He continued, "When I was first converted, I was like other people, very happy. I rejoiced in singing, going to church, and reading my Bible. But somehow I began to tire of these exercises. They lost their charm and could not hold me. I felt I was drifting off. I was told, that I 'must have confidence in the teaching and ordinances of the Church;' 'Hear the Church;' 'She is the infallible guide' − and so on."

"The Church," I said, "is the shepherd's fold, and those who are in it are the flock. The fold is not the living shepherd, neither is the flock the shepherd. How can the Church by itself guide or satisfy your soul?"

"Well," he replied, "it did for a time. I cannot deny that. I felt as if I had found something which held and led me on. I was confident that the Church was right, and that the gates of hell could not prevail against her."

"That is ecclesiastical assurance," I said. "The Jews in their time were confident and assured in the same way. They relied upon the accumulated wisdom of their fathers which had been gathered age after age, and transmitted to them. They thought themselves perfectly correct; so much so that they despised Christ Himself because He did not fall in with their view, or follow their traditions.

"It is just the same now. People who have this kind of assurance despise the simple plan of salvation as set forth in the Gospel. They too despise Christ for receiving sinners and eating with them. Like the Jews, they are jealous that Christ should draw people directly to Himself, instead of to them."

"Yes," he replied, "I see that, and I see also that I was getting to be like the Galatians. I had begun in the spirit, and was trying to perfect myself by the works of the flesh. I was obliged to give that up, for I found that although the ordinances and exercises upon which I was relying engaged my mind, they did not satisfy my spirit."

"What did you do next?" I asked. "Your experience is by no means an uncommon one."

"Then," he said, "I met with some earnest people who showed me the danger and sin of the Galatians. They encouraged me to read the Bible. I was very much in earnest about this, and apprehended my judicial standing. The more I became acquainted with the Scripture, the more confident I was. I could see how very much people lost who did not know the Word accurately.

"Knowledge made me critical; so much so that I could not help being puffed up. I seldom heard people speak as I thought correctly, or quote Scripture consistently. They misapplied texts and misquoted passages, for they were ignorant of dispensational truth. I felt, 'I know, and you do not!'

"When anyone disagreed with me, I took it for granted that he was wrong and I was right. I found friends avoided me, and I was losing all influence. I was satisfied with myself, but no one else was satisfied with me. It was in this frame of mind that I came to take exception to your idea of assurance. I thought that you were confident and self-reliant, when all the time I was so myself."

"It is a very blessed thing," I said, "when our eyes are opened to see ourselves, and the deceitfulness of our own hearts. Simon Peter was a most sincere and earnest man. He gave up all to follow Christ, and he knew it. He deliberately intended and meant it. But notwithstanding this, the Lord saw that he was resting upon his own sincerity and devotion − not on the Master. Peter was very confident that he could not possibly deny his Lord. 'Though all men deny Thee, yet will I not!' But alas, he did this very thing, and fell.

"The Lord," I continued, "has been showing you two ways wherein many believers make shipwreck of their faith and usefulness − the one, when they go after the accumulated wisdom of good men; and the other, when they rely upon themselves and their own private judgment. The fact is, God does not command us to trust in men or in self, but in Jesus Christ, who in these last days has spoken finally to us.

"As I said before, the fold cannot guide, and sheep are not capable of guiding themselves. It is the Shepherd who guides and governs the whole flock. He is the Head of the body. Simon Peter had to fall deeply before he could be dispossessed of his self-assurance. He did fall, and was completely broken. Then it was he learned the lesson of true assurance. That was assurance when he said, 'Lord, Thou knowest!' The Lord had said to him, 'Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou Me more than these? There was a time when you thought better of yourself than of others − you thought you loved Me more than all these. What do you say now?'

"Simon was not self-confident any longer, and so far from speaking of himself, he tremblingly relies on the Master. 'Lord, Thou knowest − Thou knowest me better than I know myself.'"

Turning to my friend, I said, "Have you really given your heart and your will to the Lord?"

"Yes, indeed, I have," he replied, "and I mean it."

"Do you believe God has accepted you?"

"How am I to know that?" he asked anxiously.

"By believing in Him," I said, "more than in yourself. His Word declares that He is more willing to accept than you are to give. If you are sure you have given yourself, and mean it as you say, then you ought to be more sure that He has accepted you. Faith does not consist in believing yourself, but God − not in resting in what you do, but in what God does. If you have given, God has taken. Therefore thank Him. If you are trusting Him according to His Word, you may be sure He is leading and carrying you.

"This is the true rule of faith and assurance. It is not private judgment or the judgment of the Church, but trust in Christ as revealed by the Spirit in the Word. The work of the Spirit verified by the word of the Spirit. The work and the word of the Spirit are like the impression of a seal, and the seal itself. You verify the impression, by the seal, against all comers, and against all comers you are assured this is true. You see assurance does not mean your resting upon yourself, but upon the Lord and His Word − the personal and written Word, which cannot fail and cannot pass away."

"Thank God," said my friend, "now I know in my own experience the reality, and blessedness too, of having this assurance." He was like another man, and could not help saying so.

When the children of Israel were coming out of Egypt, God commanded them to sprinkle the doorposts and lintels of their houses with the blood of the lamb. They did so, and they were safe. Still we can well imagine that nervous fear may have disturbed the minds of some, even though they were under the sign of the blood, and within the house as commanded.

But those who took God at His word had no such fear, for they were relying upon the assurance which God had given them. He had said that the blood itself was to be a token, and that when He saw the blood He would pass over them; or, in other words, that the destroying angel should not hurt them.

The blood was there − they knew that, and the Word of God was even more sure, and might be relied upon. In this way, we also may have peace, safety, and assurance, rejoicing evermore in the Lord.

THE END

White Tree Publishing publishes mainstream evangelical Christian literature for people of all ages. We aim to make our eBooks available free for all eBook devices, but some distributors will only list our books free at their discretion, and may make a small charge for some titles -- but they are still great value! All our books are fully typeset. No "photocopies" or bad OCR! Long sentences and paragraphs are broken into shorter lengths, and modern punctuation is used for easier reading. Many older books are lightly abridged.

More Books

More Christian books from White Tree Publishing are on the next pages, some of which are available as both eBooks and paperbacks. More books than those shown here are available in non-fiction and fiction, for adults and younger readers. The full list of published and forthcoming books is on our website www.whitetreepublishing.com. Please visit there regularly for updates.

We rely on our readers to tell their families, friends and churches about our books. Social media is a great way of doing this. Take a look at our range of fiction and non-fiction books and pass the word on. You can even contact your Christian TV or radio station to let them know about these books. Also, please write a positive review if you are able.

Christian non-fiction

Christian Fiction

Younger Readers

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More Books

More Christian books from White Tree Publishing are on the next pages, some of which are available as both eBooks and paperbacks. More books than those shown here are available in non-fiction and fiction, for adults and younger readers. For more details of each title and cover photo, and the full list of published and forthcoming books is on our website www.whitetreepublishing.com. Please visit there regularly for updates.

White Tree Publishing publishes mainstream evangelical Christian literature for people of all ages. We aim to make our eBooks available free for all eBook devices, but some distributors will only list our books free at their discretion, and may make a small charge for some titles ― but they are still great value! All our books are fully typeset. No "photocopies" or bad OCR. So check for our name, White Tree Publishing, before downloading! Long sentences and paragraphs are broken into shorter lengths, and modern punctuation is used for easier reading. Many books are sensitively abridged, but in all our books no doctrine or teaching is changed. The full list of published and forthcoming books is on our website www.whitetreepublishing.com. Please visit there regularly for updates.

We rely on our readers to tell their families, friends and churches about our books. Social media is a great way of doing this. Take a look at our range of fiction and non-fiction books and pass the word on. You can even contact your Christian TV or radio station to let them know about these books. Also, please write a positive review if you are able.

Christian non-fiction

Christian Fiction

Younger Readers

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Christian Non-Fiction

All our books are in eBook format only, unless otherwise stated

Leaves from

My Notebook

William Haslam

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-2-7

Haslam's Journey

Chris Wright

White Tree Publishing Edition

Previously published 2005 by Highland Books

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-8-5

Building From the Top

William Haslam

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-12-4

Four short books of help in the Christian life:

Chris Wright

So, What Is a Christian?

An introduction to a personal faith.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-2-6

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9927642-2-7

Starting Out

Help for new Christians of all ages.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-0-2

Paperback ISBN 978-1-4839-622-0-7

Help!

Explores some problems we can encounter with our faith.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-1-9

Paperback ISBN 978-0-9927642-2-7

Running Through the Bible

A simple understanding of what's in the Bible.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-3-3

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9927642-6-5

The Gospels and Acts

In Simple Paraphrase

with Helpful Explanations

together with

Running Through the Bible

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-9-6

Paperback ISBN: 978-0995454958

Be Still

Bible Words of Peace and Comfort

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-4-0

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9932760-7-1

English Hexapla

The Gospel of John

(Paperback only)

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-1-8

A Previously Unpublished Book

The Simplicity of the Incarnation

J Stafford Wright

Foreword by J I Packer

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9932760-5-7

Paperback ISBN: 9-780-9525-9563-2

Bible People Real People

An Unforgettable A-Z of Who is Who in the Bible

J Stafford Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-7-1

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-5-6

Christians and the Supernatural

J Stafford Wright

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9932760-4-0

Paperback ISBN 13: 9-780-9525-9564-9

The Authority and

Interpretation

of the Bible

J Stafford Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-9-6

Psalms,

A Guide Psalm By Psalm

J Stafford Wright

eBook ISBN 978-0-9957594-2-8

Howell Harris

His Own Story

Foreword by J. Stafford Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-9-5

Roddy Goes to Church

Church Life and Church People

Derek Osborne

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-0-3

Paperback ISBN: 978-09927642-0-3

Heaven Our Home

William Branks

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-8-8

I Can't Help Praising the Lord

The Life of Billy Bray

Chris Wright

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-01-8

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-00-1

Blunt's Scriptural Coincidences

Gospels and Acts

J. J. Blunt

White Tree Publishing New Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-5-8

From the Streets of London

to the Streets of Gold

The Life Story of

Brother Clifford Edwards

A True Story of Love

by Brother Clifford Edwards

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-8-8

Seven Steps to

Walking in Victory

Lin Wills

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-3-5

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Seven Keys to

Unlock Your Calling

Lin Wills

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-2-3

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Seven Ways to

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Lin Wills

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-21-6

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

I See Men as Trees, Walking

Roger and Janet Niblett

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Fullness of Power

in Christian Life and Service

Home and Group Questions for Today Edition

R. A. Torrey

Questions by Chuck Antone, Jr.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-8-9

Faith that Prevails

The Early Pentecostal Movement

Home and Group Questions for Today Edition

Smith Wigglesworth

Study Questions by Chuck Antone, Jr.

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Ebenezer and Ninety-Eight Friends

Musings on Life, Scripture

and the Hymns

Marty Magee

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-1-1

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9954549-1-0

Twenty-five Days Around the Manger

A Light Family Advent Devotional

Marty Magee

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-1-0

Also in full colour paperback

ISBN: 978-1-4923248-0-5

The Christian's Secret

of a Happy Life

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-6-6

Every-Day Religion

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-0-9

Living in the Sunshine:

The God of All Comfort

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-3-0

Evangelistic Talks

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-7-8

My Life and Work

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-4-7

Real Religion

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-10-0

As Jesus Passed By

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-05-6

The Lost Christ

Gipsy Smith

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-20-9

Rifted Clouds

Bella Cooke

All Three Parts

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-08-7

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-09-4

Deeper Experiences

of Famous Christians

James Gilchrist Lawson

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-15-5

Secrets of Happy Home Life

JR Miller

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-16-2

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Christian Fiction

The majority of these books are Victorian classic romances that have been sensitively edited and abridged for today's readers

Gildas Haven

Margaret S. Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-7-2

Amaranth's Garden

Margaret S. Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-6-5

Rose Capel's Sacrifice

Margaret Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-3-4

Una's Marriage

Margaret Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-5-9

Miss Elizabeth's Niece

Margaret Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-7-3

Silverbeach Manor

Margaret S. Haycraft

White Tree Publishing edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-4-1

The Clever Miss Jancy

Margaret S. Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-9-7

Freda's Folly

Margaret S Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-02-5

Sybil's Repentance

Margaret S Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-04-9

Sister Royal

Margaret S Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-03-2

Iona

Margaret S. Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-14-8

The Lady of the Chine

Margaret S Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: ISBN: 978-1-912529-19-3

Keena Karmody

Eliza Kerr

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-5-4

Hazel Haldene

Eliza Kerr

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-8-5

Rollica Reed

Eliza Kerr

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-6-1

The Secret of Ashton Manor House

Eliza Kerr

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-11-7

The Mystery of

Grange Drayton

Eliza Kerr

White Tree Publishing Edition

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-22-3

A Previously Unpublished Book

Locked Door Shuttered Windows

A Novel by J Stafford Wright

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9932760-3-3

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9927642-4-1

When it Was Dark

Guy Thorne

Abridged Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-0-3

The Lost Clue

Mrs. O. F. Walton

White Tree Publishing Edition

A Romantic Mystery

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-2-6

Doctor Forester

Mrs. O. F. Walton

White Tree Publishing Edition

A Romantic Mystery

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-0-2

Was I Right?

Mrs. O. F. Walton

Abridged Edition

A Victorian Romance

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-1-9

In His Steps

Charles M. Sheldon

Abridged Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9927642-9-6

Paperback ISBN 13: 978-19350791-8-7

A Daughter of the King

Mrs Philip Barnes

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-8-0

Stepping Heavenward

Elizabeth Prentiss

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-23-0

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Books for Younger Readers

(and older readers too!)

The Merlin Adventure

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-2-7

Paperback ISBN: 9785-203447-7-5

The Hijack Adventure

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-6-5

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5203448-0-5

The Seventeen Steps Adventure

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-7-2

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5203448-6-7

The Two Jays Adventure

The First Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-8-9

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5203448-8-1

The Dark Tunnel Adventure

The Second Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-0-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5206386-3-8

The Cliff Edge Adventure

The Third Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-4-2

Paperback ISBN: 9781-5-211370-3-1

The Midnight Farm Adventure

The Fourth Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-1-6

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5497148-3-2

The Old House Adventure

The Fifth Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-07-0

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-06-3

The Lost Island Adventure

The Sixth Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-17-9

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-18-6

The Black Lake Adventure

The Seventh Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-28-5

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-27-8

The Hidden Room Adventure

The Eighth Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-39-1

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-40-7

Available from major internet stores

The Holy Land Adventure

An Adventure Puzzle Book

Chris Wright

A time travel adventure

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-36-0

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-34-6

Available from major internet stores

Mary Jones and Her Bible

An Adventure Puzzle Book

Chris Wright

The true story of Mary Jones's and her Bible

with a clear Christian message and optional puzzles

(Some are easy, some tricky, and some amusing)

eBook ISBN: ISBN: 978-0-9933941-5-7

Paperback ISBN 978-0-9525956-2-5

Pilgrim's Progress

An Adventure Puzzle Book

Chris Wright

A similar format to Mary Jones

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9933941-6-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-6-3

Pilgrim's Progress

Special Edition

The original story retold

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-8-8

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-7-0

Zephan and the Vision

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-6-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-9-4

Agathos, The Rocky Island,

And Other Stories

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9927642-7-2

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-8-7

Please visit our website www.whitetreepublishing.com for full details on all these books, and their availability.

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