Once the harbour entered, Therefore meet with patience Maketh up for all. Here no shadow stealeth 44 CHI Looking unto Jesus." Heb. xii. 2. HILD of God, bowed down with sorrow, Dost thou run thy race with pain? Cheer thee, cheer thee; heaven's morrow Soon shall prove thou'rt not in vain Shoeless, Homeless, Christless." Tis many years ago since, one cold November night, a man sought shelter in a refuge for the destitute. The terrible curse of drink had robbed him of everything. He had been able to earn good wages, but they had all gone the same way. Clothes, furniture, all that he had once possessed, had been sold little by little; and now, with scarcely a rag on his back, and with no home of his own, he sought a night's lodging where he could find it. The evening to which I refer, he was one of many who had been received to have a scanty meal, and such accommodation as could be afforded, in one of the refuges which Christian charity has provided. A visitor went into the refuge to speak a few words to those gathered together. He spoke of God's compassion for 1 May be had as a Tract. Large type, 25. per 100. the outcast and the desolate. He told them that none were too bad for His mercy, if only they confessed their sins. Particularly he dwelt on a verse in the book of Job xxxvi. 5, "Behold, God is mighty, and despiseth not any." He showed how pitifully the Lord regarded those whom man would despise; and how gladly He would welcome them, and pardon all their sins through the Saviour's blood. The words touched the heart of the man. They seemed just to meet his case. A ray of hope seemed to pierce through the darkness. So he fell on his knees, and began to pray. The others mocked and laughed, but it mattered not to him. "O God, Thou art mighty in power, but Thou despisest not any. Oh do not despise me! I have ruined myself and my family by drink, but do not despise me! Forgive me my sins, and help me to live a new life." Such was the substance of the earnest prayer which the man offered to God. And the Lord heard him. From that night he arose from his wretched condition. He trusted in God's forgiving mercy, and he had strength given him to overcome his besetting sin, and to walk with God. Two years after, he told of his former state, that he was at that time "shoeless, homeless, Christless;" but it was not so now. He had his own happy home, and in his front room he had a large family Bible. He would sometimes read it to his old companions, and especially the verse which had proved such a blessing to his soul. In the comfort of a Saviour's love he looked back with bitter regret on the days gone by, and did his best to save others from the same fearful snare. We learn from this incident how great is the misery which comes from yielding to the love of strong drink. It is bringing a flood of evils over our land. It ruins the comfort and peace of numberless homes. It makes wives worse than widows, and children worse than orphans. One day I went into a house, and I saw a woman in tears. "Oh, sir," she said, "my husband has drunk away from me more than a thousand pounds; and now he is away drinking, and he leaves me to starve." More than this, the indulgence in drink is barring against multitudes the gate of life. It keeps them from the house of God, it prevents them from even stopping to think of their It is hurrying them fast down the broad road that leadeth to destruction. future state. Dear reader, watch against this sin. Break it off at once if it is getting power over you. Keep on the safe side. Keep away from scenes of temptation. "Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men. Avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away." But we learn another lesson. We see the mighty power of Divine grace. How wonderful is God's lovingkindness! How free is His mercy to the most guilty and wretched! How near is He to hearken to the cry of the sinner! Think of the story of the Prodigal. When the younger son is far off, fearful, perhaps, that his father would close the door against him, the father beholds him, and runs and falls on his neck and kisses him. He does not despise him for his rags and misery. He does not upbraid him for his former sins. He welcomes and pardons, and gives to him all that he needs. He does not wait to hear his confession before the kiss of forgiving love assures the son that he is at once received back as a child. Thus is it with our Father in heaven. He notices the first sigh, the first desire, the first tear, the first prayer. For one step the sinner takes, and this, too, by His grace, He takes twenty steps to meet him. He blots out the sins of a lifetime in a moment through the precious blood of Christ, and wraps the sinner in the fair garment of the Saviour's righteousness. He gives true joy to the broken-hearted, and the help of His Spirit to begin a new and holy life. Dear reader, if yet far from God, come back to Him at once. Acknowledge your sin, take the lowest place, and plead nothing but the name and merit of Jesus. He will not despise nor reject you. He will cast all your sins into the depth of the sea, and subdue all your iniquities. "Return, and come to God; Cast all your sins away; Seek ye the Saviour's cleansing blood; A Cup of Cold Water. NE day, just before the terrible outbreak of the French Revolution, three young ladies were passing along the Rue de Rivoli in Paris. Gaily they 66 talked and laughed, their light footsteps keeping time to the music of their voices, whilst their cool dresses and ample sunshades protected them from the glare of heat that was reflected from the white buildings all around. Little did they dream of the storm-clouds that were even then brooding; life was evidently a happy thing to them, and happiness, alas! often makes us thoughtless about the wants of others. Just as they came opposite the Tuileries they were stopped for a moment by a voice saying, in tones of distress, Ladies, could you procure me a little water? I dare not leave my post, but I am in great need." Henriette and Louise started, and just moved their sunshades sufficiently to see that the speaker was one of the Swiss Guard, and then they walked on, continuing their lively talk with as much unconcern as though no appeal had been made to their benevolence. But their companion, Marie de Vaux, paused instantly at the voice of need, and looking up saw a pale, haggard face that told how much the soldier was suffering from the heat. "Wait a moment," she said; and entering the shop of a confectioner close by, she speedily returned and presented a sparkling draught of cold water to the almost fainting soldier. He bowed low, and thanking |