The Baptism and Temptation

 THE BAPTISM AND TEMPTATION

At last th' appointed hour has come;
Christ bows 'neath Jordan's swelling wave;
The mighty Baptist leads him forth
Triumphant from that watery grave.

And from the heaven, serene and blue,
While wondering souls with awe are stirred,
A dove-like form appears in view,
Th' Eternal Father's voice is heard:
''Lo, this is my beloved Son —
The Prince of Peace, th' Anointed One!"
O holy hour! O sacred spot!
And yet, and yet, they knew him not.

And now the Spirit leads him far
From busy haunts of life away,
Where gloomy shades of darkness are,
'Mong fierce and angry beasts of prey;
The Holy Spirit bids him go
To wrestle with the wily foe.

There, in that wilderness alone,
With fainting form and pallid face,
Grievous temptations fierce and strong
He suffers, for our fallen race.

But with the Spirit's mighty sword
The prince of hell is put to flight;
The strength of the Eternal Word
Has conquered in Jehovah's might.

O tempted heart! when sorely tried
Amid life's desert, drear and broad,
When hope and strength and courage fail,
Look up, and put thy trust in God.

He will not fail thee; he who bore
Temptations fierce and long for thee,
Who in the wilderness prevailed.
Will give thee strength and victory.

What Is Your Wish?

"May he grant you your heart's desire and fulfill all your plans! May we shout for joy over your salvation, and in the name of our God set up our banners!" Psalm 20:4 

       What  do  you  wish  for  most?  Tell  me,  and  I  shall  tell you  what  sort  of  a  boy  or  girl  you  are.  For  your wishes  are  like  a  handful  of  grass  thrown  up  into the  air ;  the  grass  shows  which  way  the  wind  blows, and  your  wishes  show  the  real  you.  You  think that  you  make  your  wishes.  So  you  do.  But  your wishes  also  make  you,  and  what  you  wish  for  most you  are.
       Now  everyone  has  wishes,  from  baby,  who  holds out  his  chubby  hand  to  reach  a  biscuit  or  a  favorite toy,  to  grandfather  and  grandmother,  who  wish  for  a cozy  fireside,  a  footstool  at  their  feet,  and  a  kind  little grandchild  to  run  their  errands,  unlace  their  boots,  and warm  their  slippers  at  the  fire.
       We  begin  to  wish  as  soon  as  we  are  born,  and  we keep  on  wishing  though  we  live  to  be  a  hundred  and twenty.  But  it  is  when  we  are  young  that  we  wish the  hardest;  and  the  boy  or  girl  who  has  no  wishes does  not  exist.  If  such  a  child  were  to  be  found  he would  be  worth  exhibiting  in  a  museum  or  a  menagerie with  a  label  round  his  neck,  and  on  it  these  words ''The  Only  Specimen." 
       When  we  are  young  we  long  for  many  things. We  usually  long  in  the  first  place  to  be  grown-up. We  think  it  would  be  perfect  to  be  done  with  school and  lessons,  to  be  free  to  do  exactly  as  we  like.  The extraordinary  part  of  it  is  that  grown-up  people generally  long  to  be  young.  They  say,  "Oh!  if  only  we were  children  again!"  They  have  tried  both  childhood and  manhood  and  they  prefer  childhood.  So  you  see  there must  be  something  specially  nice  about  being  young,  and you  needn't  be  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  grow  up.
       Some  of  you  are  longing  to  be  grown-up  because  you wish  to  be  doctors,  or  nurses,  or  lawyers,  or  teachers, or  carpenters,  or  engine-drivers,  or  motormen,  or  pilots. You  are  counting  the  years  till  you  can  be  what you  have  set  your  heart  upon  being.
       Then,  besides  these  big  wishes  for  the  future,  you have  ever  so  many  little  wishes  for  the  present.  You are  wishing  for  a  watch,  or  a  bicycle,  or  a  fishing-rod and  tackle,  or  flashlight,  or  a  set  of  tools,  or  a cricket-bat,  or  a  football,  or  a  hockey  stick,  or - but you  see  we  could  go  on  all  morning,  just  counting your  different  wishes !
       Then  some  of  us  have  wishes  that  we  are  too  shy  to put  into  words.  We  want  to  be  honorable  and  brave and  true  and  good,  to  love  God  and  help  others,  but we'd  rather  not  speak  about  that. These  wishes  are somehow  sacred  things.
       Now  let  me  tell  you  a  secret.  What  we  wish  for most  we  often  get. If - and  this  is  the  important  half  of the  secret - if  we  only  wish  it  hard  enough. Yes, that's  true,  although  some  of  you  will  say  it  sounds  too good  to  be  true.  It  is  because  of  this.  If  you  want  a thing  very  badly  you  bend  all  your  will  towards  getting it.  You  try  every  road  that  you  think  will  reach  it. You  "leave  no  stone  unturned,"  as  the  saying  is,  till you  get  that  wish  fulfilled.  You  see,  you  do  more  than say,  "I  should  like,"  you  do  more  than  say,  "I  wish.''  You  say,  "I  will"  and  you  get  it.
       That  sounds  rather  nice.  Yes,  but  to  me  it  also sounds  rather  dangerous.  The  nice  bit  is  that  it teaches  you  not  to  be  content  with  merely  wishing things  in  a  halfhearted  way.  It encourages  you  to stick  in  and  get  them.  Success  comes  to  the  boy  or girl  who  determines  to  succeed.  The  dangerous  bit  is that  you  may  want  the  wrong  things,  and  hurt  yourselves and  others  in  getting  them.  There  are  people in  the  world  to-day  who  have  wanted  certain  things  so tremendously  that  they  have  trampled  on  faith  and love  and  honor  and  justice  to  get  them. And  when they  have  got  them,  these  same  things  have  tasted  as dust  and  ashes  in  their  mouth. They  wish  now  that they  had  never  wished  for  them.
       So  we  must  be  careful  to  wish  right  wishes,  and  we must  try  to  get  them  in  a  right  way.  If  we  do  not  get them  we  shall  know  that  God  thinks  it  is  best  for  us  not to  have  these  wishes  granted.  But  that  need  not  keep us  from  wishing  other  wishes  or  even  the  same  wishes, for  God  may  fulfill  our  heart's  desires  in  another  way.
       There  was  a  very  famous  American  doctor  whose dream  as  a  boy  was  to  become  a  great  surgeon.  His father  was  dead  and  his  mother  was  very  poor.  Because  medical  training  is  very  expensive,  it  did  not  look  as if  he  would  see  his  dream  fulfilled.  But  he  worked and  he struggled  and  he  studied,  he  overcame tremendous  obstacles,  and  at  the  age  of  thirty  he found  himself  assistant  to  a  great  American  professor of  surgery.  It  looked  as  if  he  were  really  going  to  get his  wish  at  last.
       Then  a  terrible  thing  happened.  He  developed  a peculiar  form  of  skin  disease  which  meant  that  he couldn't  perform  ordinary  operations.  He  was  in total despair!  So desperate was he that he  thought  of  taking  his own  life;  but  fortunately  he  told  his  professor,  and that  wise  man  said,  "You  can't  do  wet  surgery,  but why  not  try  dry  surgery?" (bloodless surgery)  Within  twenty  years that  boy  was  world-famous.  He  had  gained  his  desire to  be  a  great  surgeon,  but  he  was  not  the  kind  of surgeon  he  had  first  set  out  to  be.
       And  that  is  the  way  with  some  of  our  wishes.  God does  not  grant  us  them  exactly.  He  fulfills  them another  way  because  He  wants  us  to  do  other  work  for Him.  But  He  still  wants  us  to  keep  on  wishing  and bringing  our  wishes  to  Him.  Some  wishes  He  will grant  us  here  and  now.  Some  He  may  refuse  because they  would  harm us  if  we  got  them.  Some  He  will keep  to  grant  us  in  that  better  country  where  all  noble longings  and  all  unselfish  desires  will  be  grandly  and wonderfully  fulfilled

What Color Is Your Lamp?

 "For thou  wilt  light  my  lamp: Jehovah my God will lighten my darkness." Psalms 18:28 

       Have  you  ever   heard    of    the  wonderful    game    of "lantern-bearers"  played  by  Robert  Louis  Stevenson when  he  was  a  boy?   He  and  his  friends  played  it on  the  shore  at  North  Berwick  long  ago,  but  you  can read  about  it  today  in  his  essay,  The  Lantern-bearers. That  essay  doesn't  read  a  bit  like  the  ordinary  school essay  we  all  know,  and  some  of  us  hate.  It  is  more like  a  fascinating  story.   It  tells  how  Louis  stole  out of  his  house  in  the  evenings  of  late  September  when the  holidays  were  almost  at  an  end,  and  the  nights were  already  dark.  He  was  buttoned  up  to  the  chin in  his  overcoat,  but  there  was  a  mysterious  bulge  at his  waist,  and  there  hung  about  him  a  strong  smell of  toasting  tin.  He  hurried  over  the  links  with  a  walk that   spelt   mystery,  and  by  and  by  he  met  another figure  equally  bulging,  and  equally  smelling  of  blistered tin. "Have  you  got  your  lantern?"  whispered  Louis anxiously.  "Yes," was the  all-important  reply,  and together  the two  hurried   over  the  links   to  a  spot previously  agreed  upon. 
       When  four  or  five  such  figures  had  gathered  they climbed  into  an  empty  fishing-boat,  or  crouched  down in  some  sheltered  hollow.  Then the  top-coats were unbuttoned,  and  the  mysterious  bulge  and  the  tinny smell  resolved  themselves  into  a  bull's-eye  lantern fastened  to  a  cricket  belt.  In  the  flickering  light  of the  lanterns,  and  with  the  wind  sweeping  over  the links,  the  boys  talked  of  matters  both  wild  and  exciting. But  the  talk  was  nothing  compared  to  the  joy  of  being a  lantern-bearer.  "The  essence  of  this  bliss,"  as Stevenson  tells  us,  "was  to  walk  by  yourself  in  the black night; the  slide  shut;  the  top-coat  buttoned; not  a  ray  escaping  ...  a  mere  pillar  of  darkness  in  the dark;  and  all  the  while... to  know  you  had  a  bull's-eye at  your  belt,  and  to  exult  and  sing  over  the  knowledge."
       Now,  we  don't  play  at  "lantern-bearers"  like  Robert Louis  Stevenson;  nevertheless  we  all  carry  hidden lamps  or  lanterns.  The  lamps  themselves  are  hidden, but  their  light  shines  out  plainly  whether  we  will it  or  no.  No  buttoned-up  coat  can  conceal  their  flame.
       Many  of  us  have  lamps  that  burn  a  fiery  red  light, others  have  lamps  that  show  a  cold  green,  others,  again, have  lamps  that  glimmer  a  muddy  purple.  But  some of  us  carry  lamps  whose  flame  shines  steady  gold. That  sounds  as  mysterious  as  the  bulge  under  the overcoat,  doesn't  it?
       What  color  of  lamp  have  you?  I  can  tell  you;  for though  I  don't  see  the  actual  flame  I  can  tell  by  your face  and  your  actions  the  color  your  lamp  is  burning. Is  your  lamp  burning  red ?  Then  I'm  afraid  there  will be  angry  sparks  in  your  eyes  and  a  black  line  between your  brows.  Your  hands  will  often  be  clenched.  Your feet  will  be  given  to  stamping.  You  will  flare  up  at trifles.  And  people  will  say,  "What  a  dreadful
temper!"
       Is  your  light  green?  Then  your  eyes  will  always  be looking  round  the  corner  at  someone  else's  belongings. ''I  wish  I  had  nice  clothes  like  So-and-so."  "  It's  a shame  that  such  and  such  a  person  has  so  many treats."  "I  want  this."  "Give  me  that."  "Me too! "  will  be  the  words  that  are  of oftenest  on  your  lips. Hard  lines  will  grow  round  your  mouth,  and  your companions  will  say,  "Grabby  thing!"  because  your lamp  will  be  showing  the  green  light  of  jealousy  and greed.
       Does  your  lamp  burn  darkish  purple?  Then  your mouth  will  have  a  droop  at  each  corner  and  a  pout in  the  middle.  Your  eyes  will  seem  only  half  open. You  will  skulk  about  in  corners  and  look  altogether  a most  unpleasant  person.  And  outsiders  will  remark "The  sulks  again!"
       Does  your  lamp  give  a  beautiful  golden  glow? Then  your  eyes  will  be  clear  and  bright. Your  lips will  be  ready  to  smile.  You'll  be  jolly  and  happy,  and willing  to  run  an  errand  or  lend  a  helping  hand. You'll  sing  or  whistle  at  your  work,  and  your  friends will  say - well,  I  think  I  had  better  not  tell  you  what they  will  say.  It  might  make  you  conceited.
       Have  you  caught  the  idea?  Our  hidden  lamps  are our  characters,  our  natures,  our dispositions,  our  tempers - whichever  you  like  to  call  them. They  shine out unmistakably  in  our faces  and  our  actions.  We  may  try to  pretend  to  others  that  we  are  burning  a  golden  light, when  our  flame  is  really  red  or  green  or  purple;  but we  shall  not  be  able  to  keep  up  the pretense long.  Sooner  or  later  the  true  color  will  show.
       Now,  how  shall  we  contrive  to  burn  a  golden  flame? It  depends  on  who  lights  our  lamp  and  how  we  trim  it. You  see  it  is  not  a  case  of  the  glass  being  colored.  It is  a  case  of  the  flame  itself  having  a  color.
       If  we  ourselves  light  our  lamps  we  shall  find  that our  flames  will  be,  at  the  best,  unsatisfactory.  Some days  they  will  burn  one  color,  some  days  another. We  shall  never  be  able  to  depend  on  them.  The  only way  to  make  sure  of  the  true  golden  light  is  to  ask God  to  light  them  for  us.  Our  text  says,  "Thou  wilt light  my  lamp."  And  "Thou"  is  just  God.  If  we  tell Him  that  we  want  to  be  His  lamps  and  to  shine  for Him,  He  will  pour  into  us  the  oil  of  His  Holy  Spirit and  set  us  afire  with  His  love.
       Then  when  He  has  lit  the  flame  we  must  trim  it carefully,  for  of  course  you  know  that  a  badly-trimmed lamp  never  burns  well.  The  trimming  is  our  duty - not  God's - and  trimming  our  lamps  means  prayer. That  is  the  best  preparation  for  any  day's  work.  That will  keep  our  flame  pure  and  bright.  Then  the  world will  see  that  we  are  trying  to  be  God's  children,  for our  lamps  are  burning  steady  gold. Hastings.

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by John Singer Sargent 1886

The Apple of The Eye

 ''Keep  me  as  the  apple  of  the  eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings, from the wicked who do me violence, my deadly enemies who surround me''  Psalm  17: 8

You are the apple of His eye...

       What  is  the  "apple  of  the  eye"?  It  is  the  little round  black  spot  in  the  very  center  which  we  call the  pupil.  Of  all  the  parts  of  the  eye  that  we  can see,  the  pupil  is  the  most  important  because  it  is through  it  that  the  light  enters,  and  if  anything happens  to  injure  it  seriously  we  become  blind.
       When  the  psalmist  wants  God  to  keep  him  very safe  he  asks  Him  to  keep  him  as  the  apple  of  the  eye. I  wonder  what  he  means  by  that?
        Well,  first  I  think  he  wants  to  be  protected  by  a great  many  safeguards.  If  you  read  a  little  farther  in the  psalm  you  will  see  that  the  psalmist  is  surrounded by  many  fierce  enemies,  both  seen  and  unseen.  Some of  them  he  compares  to  a  lion  "greedy  of  his  prey " and  "a  young  lion  lurking  in  secret  places,"  and  he feels  that  he  needs  to  be  specially  taken  care  of.
       Now  the  eye  is  a  delicate  organ  and  can  very  easily be  hurt,  but  it  is  specially  taken  care  of.  God  has taken  pains  to  protect  it.
       Would  you  like  to  hear  about  some  of  its  defenses?
       Well,  first  there  are   the   outworks - the  eyebrows, and  the  eyelashes,  and  the  eyelids.  And  what  are their  use?  The  eyebrows  prevent  the  moisture  of the  brow  from  running  down  into  the  eyes.  That moisture  is  really  poisonous  and  besides  blurring  our vision  would  injure  our  eyes.  The  eyelashes  act  as a  sort  of  curtain  to  keep  out  small  insects  or  specks  of dust  that  might  hurt.  The  eyelids  are  like  strong swing  doors  that  close  immediately  and  involuntarily at  the  approach  of  danger.
       Then  the  eyeball  is  surrounded  by  a  bony  socket which  is  like  a  strong  wall  all  round  it,  and  it  rests  on a  sort  of  bed  of  fat  on  which  it  can  move  with  ease  and safety.  Above  the  eyeball  and  a  little  to  the  outer side  is  the  tear-gland  which  provides  another  safeguard. Every  time  we  wink  a  tear  from  this  gland pours  over  the  surface  of  our  eyes  and  washes  the  eyeball. You  know  how  your  eye  waters  if  you  get  a fly  or  a  bit  of  grit  in  it.  That  is  just  the  tear-gland working  extra  hard  to  remove  it.
       So  you  see  in  how  many  different  and  wonderful ways  the  pupil  of  the  eye  is  protected.  And  God keeps  us  in  just  as  many  and  in  just  as  wonderful ways.  Every  day  we  are  being  kept  from  dangers,  and from  evils,  and  from  temptations  of  which  we  know nothing.
       Do  you  know  the  hymn  "Jesus,  Lover  of  my soul"?  There  is  a  very  interesting  story  connected with  that  hymn  which  Henry  Drummond  used  to tell.
       One   Sunday  evening  some  of   the  passengers  on board  a  big  Atlantic  liner  had  met  in  the  cabin  to  sing hymns.  By  and  by  they  began  to  sing  "Jesus,  Lover of  my  soul,"  and  one  passenger,  an  American,  heard behind  him  a  very  fine  voice  that  seemed  familiar  to him.  When  the  music  stopped  he  turned  round  and asked  the  owner  of  the  voice  if  he  had  fought  in  the Civil  War.  The  man  replied  that  he  had  fought  on the  Confederate  side.  Then  the  first  man  asked  his new  acquaintance  if  he,  by  any  chance,  had  been  at a  certain  place  on  a  certain  night.  "Yes,"  replied  the other,  "and  while  we  were  singing  that  hymn  something that  happened  that  night  came  back  to  me  very vividly.  I  was  on  sentry  duty  on  the  edge  of  a  wood, and  I  was  feeling  rather  lonely  and  frightened  as  the enemy  were  known  to  be  not  far  off.  About  midnight, I  grew  very  weary  and  miserable  and  homesick;  and to  keep  up  my  courage,  I  began  to  sing  that  hymn. When  I  came  to  the  verse,

All  my  trust  on  Thee  is  stayed;
All  my  help  from  Thee  I  bring;
Cover  my  defenseless  head
With  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing  

 

a  strange  peace  seemed  to  descend  on  me,  and  I  was no  more  afraid."
       Then  the  first  man  told  his  story.  "I  also,"  he  said, "fought  in  the  Civil  War,  but  I  was  on  the  Union  side. On  that  night  I  was  out  with  a  party  of  scouts  in  the place  of  which  you spoke.  We  saw  you  standing  on the  edge  of  the  wood  and  my  men  had  their  rifles pointed  at  you  and  were  ready  for  the  word  to  fire.
       But  just  then  you  began  to  sing,  and  when  you  came to  the  words, 

 

Cover  my  defenseless  head 

With  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing - 

 

       I  said,  ''Boys,  lower  your  rifles;  we  will  go  home.''
       God  shields  us  in  many,  many  ways  of  which we know not.   
         And  then  I  think  the  psalmist  asked  to  be  kept as  the  apple  of  the  eye,  because  our  eyesight  is  very precious  to  us.  Of  all  the  five  senses,  sight  is  the  most valuable.  We  could  get  along  better  without  any  one of  the  others  than  without  it.  Just  think,  for  instance, how  helpless  a  blind  man  is  compared  with  a  deaf  one. And  think  what  care  you  take  of  your  eyes.  If  danger is  near  you  put  up  your  hand  at  once  to  defend them.
       Well,  God  takes  just  as  much  care  of  you.  Once a  little  boy  was  standing  with  his  father  on  the  top of  the  Cheviot  Hills.  The  father  pointed  northward over  Scotland,  southward  over  England,  eastward  over the  North  Sea,  and  westward  over  hill  and  dale,  and then  he  said,  "Johnny,  my  boy,  God's  love  is  as  big as  all  that."  "Why,  father,"  said  Johnny,  "then  we must  be  in  the  very  middle  of  it."
       Yes,  we  are  right  in  the  middle  of  God's  love,  and that  is  the  safest  place  we  can  be  in.  Nothing  can ever  really  hurt  or  harm  us  there - not  sin,  nor sorrow,  nor  even  death  at  last.  That  God  gave  so much - His    only    Son    to    redeem    us - shows    how precious  we  are;   and  He  keeps  us  safe  because  we are  precious.
       Again  I  think  the  psalmist  asks  to  be  kept  as  the apple  of  the  eye  because  the  eye  is  so  sensitive.  It feels  pain  if  the  tiniest  insect  or  the  smallest  bit  of grit  enters  it.
       In  the  Book  of  Zechariah  there  is  a  verse  very similar  to  this  one,  God  is  speaking  of  His  chosen people  and  He  says  that  he  that  toucheth  them "toucheth  the  apple  of  His  eye."  That just  means  that he  who  hurts  them  hurts  God.  And  I  think  those words  are  meant  for  all  God's  children  in  all  ages -he  who  hurts  them  hurts  God.

       When  Lord  Kitchener  was  Governor,  or  Sirdar,  as he  was  called,  of  the  Soudan,  he  was  very  strict  about guarding  the  rights  of  the  natives.  If  a  soldier  injured a  native  in  any  way,  even  one  of  the  poorest  and meanest,  the  matter  was  inquired  into,  and  the  soldier, if  guilty,  was  severely  punished.  Kitchener  was  so careful  about  this  and  so  jealous  of  the  rights  of  the natives,  that  it  came  to  be  a  sort  of  proverb  in  the army,  "If  you  strike  a  native  you  strike  the  Sirdar." 

      So  the  smallest  trouble  or  pain  you  experience  hurts God.  Did  you  ever  think  of  it  in  that  way?  God feels  all  your  little  sorrows  and  troubles  just  as  though they  had  happened  to  Him,  and  He  feels  them  far  more than  you  do.
       The  Hebrews  called  the  pupil  of  the  eye  the  "little son"  or  sometimes  "the  daughter  of  the  eye"  because when  you  look  into  the  eye  of  another  you  see  reflected there  a  little  picture  of  yourself.
       God  always  carries  about  a  picture  of  you  in  His eye.  He  is  always  thinking  about  you,  and  caring  for you,  and  loving  you,  and  He  longs  for  your  love  too. He  has  such  a  great  big  heart  that  He  can  take  us  all in,  and  there  will  always  be  an  empty  corner  in  it  till you  nestle  there. Hastings

Cleansing The Temple

 CLEANSING THE TEMPLE.

AGAIN the Paschal feast had come,
And strangers throng the busy street;
While in the temple's sacred courts
The buyer and the seller meet.
Shrill, babbling voices, wild and rude —
The shouting of the multitude ;
The lowing cattle from the fold,
The coo of doves, the clink of gold ;
The money-changer's greedy cry, —
Loud, eager voices, fierce and high, —
Discordant sounds from far and near
Are borne upon the startled ear.

"Take these things hence!" above the din
There sounds a voice of stern command;
The while, the awestruck throng behold
A godlike Presence, firm and grand.
With scourge of cords within his hand.

Then, like a mighty torrent rushed
The surging mass, from pen and fold;
The drivers with their cattle fled,
The money-changers, with their gold;
The screaming throng, the bellowing herds,
The bleating sheep, the frightened birds, —
All, all, in one vast, rushing tide,
From that stern Presence flee to hide.
In wild dismay they flee in fear.
As though th' Avenger's sword were near 

Sermon On The Mount

 SERMON ON THE MOUNT

O holy, sacred mount! where sat.
In human form, the Prince of Heaven;
When, neath Judea's purple skies.
The sweet beatitudes were given:
Those gracious words, which echo still
Adown the corridors of time.
Till earth's remotest lands have heard
Their glorious symphony sublime.

"Blest are the poor in spirit," — they
Whose hearts are filled with godly fear ;
"And blessed they who mourn," for, lo.
The heavenly Comforter is near.
Thrice blessed are the meek ; for they
The promised earth made new shall tread :
" Blest they who thirst for righteousness,
And hunger; for they shall be fed."

''Blest are the merciful, " and those
Who gentle mercy's paths have trod;
And sweet the benediction sure, —
"The pure in heart shall see their God."
O blessed Peace ! How sweet thy sound
'Mid noisy earth's discord and dying
Her restless sons of war and strife
None but the peacemaker shall win.

And O, thrice blessed shall ye be
If for the truth of God ye stand
When Persecution dark and dire
Shall reach you with her bloody hand.
Rejoice and be exceeding glad;
The prophets suffered e'en like this.
And counted not their lives as dear

Exchange for heaven's eternal bliss.
When wicked men shall falsely bring
' Dark accusations 'gainst your name,
And slander bold her banners fling,
Truth's holy legions to defame;
If thou, like Daniel, boldly face
The king's command, the lion's paw,
If thou shalt conquer in the race
And loyal prove to God's just law,
The King of Heaven shall be thy Lord,
Eternal bliss, thy sure reward!

Healing The Nobleman's Son

HEALING THE NOBLEMAN'S SON

O'er old Capernaum the sun had set,
And evening shadows gathered, dark
and gray,
As silent watchers bent, with lashes wet,
Above the cot where a frail sufferer lay.

The stars shone out like gems of purest light,
And stormy Galilee was calm and mild;
The calm blue waters kiss the wave-girt shore,
And chant a requiem to the dying child.

"Father, come closer, closer to my bed.
And let me lay in thine my fevered hand,
Before the vale of death my feet shall tread,
Before I journey to that shadowy land."

''My child, strange rumors met my ear to-day ;
For I have heard of Christ, the mighty One:
He tarrieth now by Cana's gates they say;
I go to seek him, that he heal my son."

He went; his piteous plea the Master heard,
As even now he hears faith's earnest cry;
In tones of agony the father pleads,
''O sir, come down before my son shall die!"

Then, sweet as music, sounds the Master's
voice, —
Sweeter than birdsong in a desert drear:
Thy prayer is heard; O father, go thy way;
Thy little son shall live ; be of good cheer."

When from those sacred lips there falls the
word,
The pulse of health springs through that
fevered frame ;
Soon old Capernaum the news has heard.
And wondering souls believe on Jesus' name. 

A Broken Trust

"Thou  madest  him  to  have  dominion  over  the  works  of  thy
hands."  Psalm  8:6.

Being kind to animals reflects a 
godly spirit...

       Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  great  artist  who  painted a  beautiful  picture.  It  was  so  wonderful  that  people stopped  to  gaze  at  it  and  to  admire  the  marvel  of  its workmanship.  Into  it  the  painter  had  put  all  the  love, all  the  joy,  all  the  hope  of  many  years.

       Now  it  so  happened  that  the  artist  was  called  abroad and  he  knew  that  he  might  be  absent  for  a  long  period; so  he  resolved  that  he  would  give  the  wonderful  picture into  the  keeping  of  his  little  son.  Next  to  the  boy himself,  it  was  the  most  precious  thing  he  possessed. But  he  said,  " I  will  give  it  to  my  child  to  help  him and  to  comfort  him,  and  he  will  take  care  of  it  for  me.''

       Now  when  his  father  had  gone  the  boy  said,  "Here is  something  my  father  has  given  to  me.  It  is  mine to  do  with  as  I  will.  Let  me  destroy  it!"  So  he seized  a  great  brush  and daubed  black  paint  over  it, obliterating  the  beautiful  blue  skies  and  the  peaceful hills;  then  he  scratched  it  with  a  sharp  instrument; and  finally  he  cut  it  in  shreds  with  a  sharp knife.

       When  the  father  returned  he  was  sorely  vexed. He  was  grieved  at  the  destruction  of  his  beautiful handiwork,  but  he  was  even  more  grieved  at  the destruction  in  the  boy's  heart.  For  the  damage  that had  been  done  in  the  picture  was  copied  there. The  child's  heart  was  blackened  and  defaced  and torn.

       Boys  and  girls,  that  story  is  a  parable.  I  wonder  if you  can  read  it.  Our  Father  in  Heaven  created  many wonderful  things.  He  formed  the  hills,  He  made  the sea  and  the  sky,  He  planted  the  flowers  and  the  trees. Then  He  created  what,  next  to  man  himself,  is  His most  marvelous  work - He  created  the  birds  and  the beasts  and  the  insects.  Last  of  all  He  made  man. And  He  said,  "I  want  the  man  whom  I  have  created to  be  happy.  I  will  give  him  of  my  best,  I  will  give into  his  keeping  these  creatures  whom  I  love  and  into whom  I  have given abundant life.  They  will help  him  and  comfort  him  and  make  him  glad,  and  he will  take  care  of  them  for  me."

       And  how  did  the  sons  of  men  fulfill  their  trust? Some  of  them  kept  it  nobly.  But  there  were  many others - and  among  them  were  boys  and  girls - who abused  it  shamefully.  They  lashed  their  horses,  they tormented  cats,  they  stole  the  eggs  the  poor  mother bird  had  laid  and  had  watched  over  with  such  love  and care. They  caught  the  gorgeous  butterflies  that  were fluttering  and  rejoicing  in  the  summer  sunshine  and they  killed  them  for  their  collections.  They  shot  tame pigeons  with  their  catapults.  They  forgot  to  feed their  rabbits  and  their  canaries.  And  the  heart  of the  great  Father  God  was  sorely  grieved.

       For,  boys  and  girls,  when  we  ill-treat  or  neglect  or wantonly  destroy  animals  there  are  three  that  we hurt.

       We  hurt  God  who  made  them  and  who  loves  them.

       We  hurt  the  creatures  themselves.  That  goes  without saying.

       We  hurt  ourselves.  We  are  putting  great  stains  on our  hearts.  We  are  making  ourselves harder  and coarser  and  more  brutal.  It  may  interest  you  to know  that  a  writer  in  one  of  our papers  has  told  us that,  out  of  seven  thousand  children  who  were  taught in  a  large  public school  to  be  kind  to  animals,  not  one was  afterwards  charged  with  a  criminal  offense;  and that out  of  two  thousand  criminals  in  a American  prison were interviewed and it was discovered that only  twelve  had  ever  had  pets  when  they  were  young.

       And  remember  that  being  kind  to  animals  doesn't just  mean  not  ill-treating  them.  It  means  looking after  their  comfort  and  their  food.  For  it  is  better  to put  an  end  to  a  beast  than  to  starve  it  or  neglect  it. The  creatures  depend  upon  us,  and  if  we  neglect  them we  are  guilty  of  a  mean  act,  we  are  guilty  of  breaking a  trust.

       And  it  means,  too,  loving  them  and  sympathizing with  them  and  doing  our  best  to  make  them  happy. For  animals  have  feelings,  feelings  far  deeper  than  we imagine. They  know  the  touch  of  a  person  who  cares for  them.

       And,  boys  and  girls,  that  love  will  be  amply  repaid. It  will  be  repaid  tenfold  in  the  devotion  of your  horse,  or  your  dog,  or  even  your  cat, yes,  even your  cat! Hastings.

Repulse At Nazareth

REPULSE AT NAZARETH.

He came unto his own, O shameful story!
His own received him not— the Prince of Glory.

THEY hated him; and yet he came
On love's sweet errand, down below, —
To lift the sons of Adam up,
To tell of life and joy and hope,
To drain for man the bitterest cup,
And save- him from eternal woe.

That he, the spotless Son of God,
The Heir of Heaven's eternal throne,
Should count as loss all earthly fame,
For man should suffer woe and shame,
A blasted and dishonored name,
And yet be hated by his own!

E'en Nazareth rejects his love!
The home where he had long time dwelt,
And now he treads her streets once oaore,
Where he had led, in days of yore.
His spotless life, and o'er and o'er
In humble prayer had knelt.

But they despise — reject him ! they
To whom he brings the message sweet;
They buffet him in angry strife,
And seek to take his sinless life;
Seditious, cruel threats are rife,
As scribes and rulers meet.

Yet, filled with mercy, o'er and o'er
Those sacred hills and vales he trod.
Where spires from myriad cities gleamed
As Judah's siin upon them beamed.
And like one mighty city seemed
From Lebanon's green sod.

To these, the pitying Master came.
To bear his message from above;
O Galilee! thou sacred place;
O Israel! ye favored race;
Why did'st thou turn away thy face,
And spurn a Savior's love? 

The Draught Of Fishes

 THE DRAUGHT OF FISHES

THE rising sun was scarcely seen
Above Judea's hills so green,
And springtime flowers, bright and rare,
Dotted the landscape everywhere.

The gentle zephyrs, soft and free,
Ruffled the waves of Galilee;
And where the morning sunbeams glanced,
Ten thousand diamonds gleamed and danced.

Already, o'er the cliffs along,
Wendeth an eager, anxious throng;
The haughty priest, the man of care,
The lame, the halt, the blind, are there;
For they have heard the joyous cry, —
''The MIGHTY Healer passeth by."

In Simon's boat the Master sat,
And taught the people on the shore;
While scribes and elders stand amazed
To hear such words of heavenly lore.
O Blessed Christ! How vast thy love.
Unmeasured as the heights above I

''Simon, launch out into the deep;"
"Let down the nets into the sea;"
"Yea, Master, at thy word we will.
Though vainly we have toiled," said he.

The net is cast into the deep,
And quick within its meshes leap
The myriad fishes, small and great,
Until the sudden, mighty weight
Has filled the ships, — a cumbrous store, —
Till scarce the fishers reach the shore.

Then Simon bows upon the sod.
And worships him: "O Lord my God,
Depart from me! for self and sin
Still gain the mastery within!"
And then, methinks, these words I hear:
''O Simon — wherefore dost thou fear?"
"Let peace reign in thy heart again;
From henceforth thou shall fish for men,"

Ye wayworn sons of Adam's race,
O listen as these words of grace
Come rolling through the ages dim:
"They left their nests, and followed Him.''

"Come leave your nets, ye sons of men;"
These living words of sacred fire
Fall on our weary hearts again
Like music from a heavenly lyre, —
Like chanting of the Seraphim:
"Come, leave your nets, and follow him."

The Woman At The Well

 THE WOMAN AT THE WELL.

THE sun rose high o'er Gerizim
And Ebal's mountains dark and grim,
As through Samaria s busy street
Echoed a woman's hurrying feet;
The word is borne with bated breath, —
''Come see the Man of Nazareth,
By Jacob's well he sitteth now,
A holy radiance on his brow."

"He telleth of a fountain free,
Flowing for helpless souls like me;
Of Christ, the Anointed Son of God;
Of streams of mercy, free and broad;
Of lov^e and pity, hope and grace.
For the lost sons of Adam's race."

"Is not this he — the blessed Christ
Declared by holy men of old, —
The coming One, th' anointed King
Whom Moses and the seers fortold?
Aye," quoth the woman, " Who may tell?
Come, haste, he sitteth by the well."

They follow her — a multitude —
With eager haste and flying feet;
And there, by Jacob's flowing well.
They listen to the message sweet:
"I am the living Fountain free;
O thirsty soul, come unto me."

''Now we believe," they joyful cried;
"Yet not because of this thy word;
For we with our own eyes have seen,
With our own willing ears have heard!
And we will spread the news abroad
That Jesus is the Christ of God."

A Child's Prayer for A Knight

Description of The Iluminated Prayer: topic: to become a "knight"

Don't forget to drag the png. or jpg into a Word Document and enlarge the image as much as possible before printing it folks. If you have a question about this coloring page, just type into the comment box located directly below this post and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can.