Chapter 14

Christ for Us.

_'So will I also be for Thee._'--Hos. iii. 3.

The typical promise, 'Thou shalt abide for Me many days,' is indeed a marvel of love. For it is given to the most undeserving, described under the strongest possible figure of utter worthlessness and treacherousness,--the woman beloved, yet an adulteress.

The depth of the abyss shows the length of the line that has fathomed it, yet only the length of the line reveals the real depth of the abyss. The sin shows the love, and the love reveals the sin. The Bible has few words more touching, though seldom quoted, than those just preceding this wonderful promise: 'The love of the Lord toward the children of Israel, who look to other gods, and love flagons of wine.' Put that into the personal application which no doubt underlies it, and say, 'The love of the Lord toward _me_, who have looked away from Him, with wandering, faithless eyes, to other helps and hopes, and have loved earthly joys and sought earthly gratifications,--the love of the Lord toward even me!' And then hear Him saying in the next verse, 'So I bought her to Me;' stooping to do _that_ in His unspeakable condescension of love, not with the typical silver and barley, but with the precious blood of Christ. Then, having thus loved us, and rescued us, and bought us with a price indeed, He says, still under the same figure, 'Thou shalt abide for Me many days.'

This is both a command and a pledge. But the very pledge implies our past unfaithfulness, and the proved need of even our own part being undertaken by the ever patient Lord. He Himself has to guarantee our faithfulness, because there is no other hope of our continuing faithful. Well may such love win our full and glad surrender, and such a promise win our happy and confident trust!

But He says more. He says, 'So will I also be for thee!' And this seems an even greater marvel of love, as we observe how He meets every detail of our consecration with this wonderful word.[footnote: The remainder of this chapter is printed in a little penny book, entitled, _I also for Thee_, by F. R. H., published by Caswell, Birmingham, and by Nisbet & Co.]

1. _His Life_ 'for thee!' 'The Good Shepherd giveth His life for the sheep.' Oh, wonderful gift! not promised, but _given_; not to friends, but to enemies. Given without condition, without reserve, without return. Himself unknown and unloved, His gift unsought and unasked, He gave His life for thee; a more than royal bounty--the greatest gift that Deity could devise. Oh, grandeur of love! 'I lay down My life for the sheep!' And we for whom He gave it have held back, and hesitated to give our lives, not even _for_ Him (He has not asked us to do that), but _to_ Him! But that is past, and He has tenderly pardoned the unloving, ungrateful reserve, and has graciously accepted the poor little fleeting breath and speck of dust which was all we had to offer. And now His precious death and His glorious life are all 'for thee.'

2. _His Eternity_ 'for thee.' All we can ask Him to take are days and moments--the little span given us as it is given, and of this only the present in deed and the future in will. As for the past, in so far as we did not give it to Him, it is too late; we can never give it now! But His past was given to us, though ours was not given to Him. Oh, what a tremendous debt does this show us!

Away back in the dim depths of past eternity, 'or ever the earth and the world were made,' His divine existence in the bosom of His Father was all 'for thee,' purposing and planning 'for thee,' receiving and holding the promise of eternal life 'for thee.'

Then the thirty-three years among sinners on this sinful earth: do we think enough of the slowly-wearing days and nights, the heavy-footed hours, the never-hastening minutes, that went to make up those thirty-three years of trial and humiliation? We all know how slowly time passes when suffering and sorrow are near, and there is no reason to suppose that our Master was exempted from this part of our infirmities.

Then His present is 'for thee.' Even now He 'liveth to make intercession;' even now He 'thinketh upon me;' even now He 'knoweth,' He 'careth,' He 'loveth.'

Then, only to think that His whole eternity will be 'for thee!' Millions of ages of unfoldings of all His love, and of ever new declarings of His Father's name to His brethren. Think of it! and can we ever hesitate to give _all_ our poor little hours to His service?

3. _His Hands_ 'for thee.' Literal hands; literally pierced, when the whole weight of His quivering frame hung from their torn muscles and bared nerves; literally uplifted in parting blessing. Consecrated, priestly hands; 'filled' hands (Ex. xxviii. 41, xxix. 9, etc., margin)--filled once with His great offering, and now with gifts and blessings 'for thee.' Tender hands, touching and healing, lifting and leading with gentlest care. Strong hands, upholding and defending. Open hands, filling with good and satisfying desire (Ps. civ. 28, and cxlv. 16). Faithful hands, restraining and sustaining. 'His left hand is under my head, and His right hand doth embrace me.'

4. _His Feet_ 'for thee.' They were weary very often, they were wounded and bleeding once. They made clear footprints as He went about doing good, and as He went up to Jerusalem to suffer; and these 'blessed steps of His most holy life,' both as substitution and example, were 'for thee.' Our place of waiting and learning, of resting and loving, is at His feet. And still those 'blessed feet' are and shall be 'for thee,' until He comes again to receive us unto Himself, until and when the word is fulfilled, 'They shall walk with Me in white.'

5. _His Voice_ 'for thee.' The 'Voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love;' the Voice that His sheep 'hear' and 'know,' and that calls out the fervent response, 'Master, say on!' This is not all. It was the literal voice of the Lord Jesus which uttered that one echoless cry of desolation on the Cross 'for thee,' and it will be His own literal voice which will say, 'Come, ye blessed!' to thee. And that same tender and 'glorious Voice' has literally sung and will sing 'for thee.' I think He consecrated song for us, and made it a sweet and sacred thing for ever, when He Himself 'sang an hymn,' the very last thing before He went forth to consecrate suffering for us. That was not His last song. 'The Lord thy God ... will joy over thee with singing.' And the time is coming when He will not only sing 'for thee' or 'over thee,' but with thee. He says He will! 'In the midst of the church will I sing praise unto Thee.' Now what a magnificent glimpse of joy this is! 'Jesus Himself leading the praises of His brethren,'[footnote: See A. Newton on the Epistle to the Hebrews, ch. ii. ver. 12.] and we ourselves singing not merely in such a chorus, but with such a leader! If 'singing for Jesus' is such delight here, what will this 'singing _with_ Jesus' be? Surely song may well be a holy thing to us henceforth.

6. _His Lips_ 'for thee.' Perhaps there is no part of our consecration which it is so difficult practically to realize, and in which it is, therefore, so needful to recollect?--'I also for thee.' It is often helpful to read straight through one or more of the Gospels with a special thought on our mind, and see how much bears upon it. When we read one through with this thought--'His _lips_ for me!'--wondering, verse by verse, at the grace which was poured into them, and the gracious words which fell from them, wondering more and more at the cumulative force and infinite wealth of tenderness and power and wisdom and love flowing from them, we cannot but desire that our lips and all the fruit of them should be wholly for Him. 'For thee' they were opened in blessing; 'for thee' they were closed when He was led as a lamb to the slaughter. And whether teaching, warning, counsel, comfort, or encouragement, commandments in whose keeping there is a great reward, or promises which exceed all we ask or think--all the precious fruit of His lips is 'for thee,' really and truly _meant_ 'for thee.'

7. _His Wealth_ 'for thee.' 'Though He was rich, yet for our sakes He became poor, that ye through His poverty might be made rich.' Yes, 'through His poverty' the unsearchable riches of Christ are 'for thee.' Seven-fold riches are mentioned; and these are no unminted treasure or sealed reserve, but all ready coined for our use, and stamped with His own image and superscription, and poured freely into the hand of faith. The mere list is wonderful. 'Riches of goodness,' 'riches of forbearance and long-suffering,' 'riches both of wisdom and knowledge,' 'riches of mercy,' 'exceeding riches of grace,' and 'riches of glory.' And His own Word says, 'All are yours!' Glance on in faith, and think of eternity flowing on and on beyond the mightiest sweep of imagination, and realize that all 'His riches in glory' and 'the riches of His glory' are and shall be 'for thee!' In view of this, shall we care to reserve anything that rust doth corrupt for ourselves?

8. _His 'treasures of wisdom and knowledge'_ 'for thee.' First, used for our behalf and benefit. Why did He expend such immeasurable might of mind upon a world which is to be burnt up, but that He would fit it perfectly to be, not the home, but the school of His children? The infinity of His skill is such that the most powerful intellects find a lifetime too short to penetrate a little way into a few secrets of some one small department of His working. If we turn to Providence, it is quite enough to take only one's own life, and look at it microscopically and telescopically, and marvel at the treasures of wisdom lavished upon its details, ordering and shaping and fitting the tiny confused bits into the true mosaic which He means it to be. Many a little thing in our lives reveals the same Mind which, according to a well-known and very beautiful illustration, adjusted a perfect proportion in the delicate hinges of the snowdrop and the droop of its bell, with the mass of the globe and the force of gravitation. How kind we think it if a very talented friend spends a little of his thought and power of mind in teaching us or planning for us! Have we been grateful for the infinite thought and wisdom which our Lord has expended upon us and our creation, preservation, and redemption?

Secondly, to be shared with us. He says, 'All that I have is thine.' He holds nothing back, reserves nothing from His dear children, and what we cannot receive now He is keeping for us. He gives us 'hidden riches of secret places' now, but by and by He will give us more, and the glorified intellect will be filled continually out of His treasures of wisdom and knowledge. But the sanctified intellect will be, must be, used for Him, and only for Him, now!

9. _His Will_ 'for thee.' Think first of the _infinite might_ of that will; the first great law and the first great force of the universe, from which alone every other law and every other force has sprung, and to which all are subordinate. 'He worketh all things after the counsel of His own will.' 'He doeth according to His will in the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth.' Then think of the _infinite mysteries_ of that will. For ages and generations the hosts of heaven have wonderingly watched its vouchsafed unveilings and its sublime developments, and still they are waiting, watching, and wondering.

Creation and Providence are but the whisper of its power, but Redemption is its music, and praise is the echo which shall yet fill His temple. The whisper and the music, yes, and 'the thunder of His power,' are all 'for thee.' For what _is_ 'the good pleasure of His will'? (Eph. i. 5.) Oh, what a grand list of blessings purposed, provided, purchased, and possessed, all flowing to us out of it! And nothing but blessings, nothing but privileges, which we never should have imagined, and which, even when revealed, we are 'slow of heart to believe;' nothing but what should even now fill us 'with joy unspeakable and full of glory!'

Think of this will as always and altogether on our side--always working for us, and in us, and with us, if we will only let it; think of it as always and only synonymous with infinitely wise and almighty love; think of it as undertaking all for us, from the great work of our eternal salvation down to the momentary details of guidance and supply, and do we not feel utter shame and self-abhorrence at _ever_ having hesitated for an instant to give up our tiny, feeble, blind will, to be--not crushed, not even bent, but _blent_ with His glorious and perfect Will?

10. _His Heart_ 'for thee.' 'Behold ... He is mighty ... in heart,' said Job (Job xxxvi. 5, margin). And this mighty and tender heart is 'for thee!' If He had only stretched forth His hand to save us from bare destruction, and said, 'My hand for thee!' how could we have praised Him enough? But what shall we say of the unspeakably marvellous condescension which says, 'Thou hast ravished (margin, _taken away_) my heart, my sister, my spouse!' The very fountain of His divine life, and light, and love, the very centre of His being, is given to His beloved ones, who are not only 'set as a seal upon His heart,' but taken into His heart, so that our life is hid there, and we dwell there in the very centre of all safety, and power, and love, and glory. What will be the revelation of 'that day,' when the Lord Jesus promises, 'Ye shall know that I am in My Father, and _ye in Me'?_ For He implies that we do not yet know it, and that our present knowledge of this dwelling in Him is not knowledge at all compared with what He is going to show us about it.

Now shall we, can we, reserve any corner of our hearts from Him?

11. _His Love_ 'for thee.' Not a passive, possible love, but outflowing, yes, _outpouring_ of the real, glowing, personal love of His mighty and tender heart. Love not as an attribute, a quality, a latent force, but an acting, moving, reaching, touching, and grasping power. Love, not a cold, beautiful, far-off star, but a sunshine that comes and enfolds us, making us warm and glad, and strong and bright and fruitful.

_His_ love! What manner of love is it? What should be quoted to prove or describe it? First the whole Bible with its mysteries and marvels of redemption, then the whole book of Providence and the whole volume of creation. Then add to these the unknown records of eternity past and the unknown glories of eternity to come, and then let the immeasurable quotation be sung by 'angels and archangels, and all the company of heaven,' with all the harps of God, and still that love will be untold, still it will be 'the love of Christ that passeth knowledge.'

But it is 'for thee!'

12. _Himself_ 'for thee.' 'Christ also hath loved us, and given Himself for us.' 'The Son of God ... loved me, and gave Himself for me.' Yes, Himself! What is the Bride's true and central treasure? What calls forth the deepest, brightest, sweetest thrill of love and praise? Not the Bridegroom's priceless gifts, not the robe of His resplendent righteousness, not the dowry of unsearchable riches, not the magnificence of the palace home to which He is bringing her, not the glory which she shall share with Him, but Himself! Jesus Christ, 'who His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree;' 'this same Jesus,' 'whom having not seen, ye love;' the Son of God, and the Man of Sorrows; my Saviour, my Friend, my Master, my King, my Priest, my Lord and my God--He says, '_I_ also for thee!' What an '_I'!_ What power and sweetness we feel in it, so different from any human '_I_,' for all His Godhead and all His manhood are concentrated in it, and all 'for thee!'

And not only 'all,' but '_ever_' for thee. His unchangeableness is the seal upon every attribute; He will be 'this same Jesus' for ever. How can mortal mind estimate this enormous promise? How can mortal heart conceive what is enfolded in these words, 'I also for thee'?

One glimpse of its fulness and glory, and we feel that henceforth it must be, shall be, and by His grace _will_ be our true-hearted, whole-hearted cry--

Take _myself_, and I will be _Ever_, ONLY, ALL for Thee!

SELECTIONS FROM MISS HAVERGAL'S LATEST POEMS.

An Interlude.

_That_ part is finished! I lay down my pen, And wonder if the thoughts will flow as fast Through the more difficult defile. For the last Was easy, and the channel deeper then. My Master, I will trust Thee for the rest; Give me just what Thou wilt, and that will be my best!

How can _I_ tell the varied, hidden need Of Thy dear children, all unknown to me, Who at some future time may come and read What I have written! All are known to Thee. As Thou hast helped me, help me to the end; Give me Thy own sweet messages of love to send.

So now, I pray Thee, keep my hand in Thine; And guide it as Thou wilt. I do not ask To understand the 'wherefore' of each line; Mine is the sweeter, easier, happier task, Just to look up to Thee for every word, Rest in Thy love, and trust, and know that I am heard.

The Thoughts of God.

They say there is a hollow, safe and still, A point of coolness and repose Within the centre of a flame, where life might dwell Unharmed and unconsumed, as in a luminous shell, Which the bright walls of fire enclose In breachless splendour, barrier that no foes Could pass at will.

There is a point of rest At the great centre of the cyclone's force, A silence at its secret source;-- A little child might slumber undistressed, Without the ruffle of one fairy curl, In that strange central calm amid the mighty whirl.

So, in the centre of these thoughts of God, Cyclones of power, consuming glory-fire,-- As we fall o'erawed Upon our faces, and are lifted higher By His great gentleness, and carried nigher Than unredeemèd angels, till we stand Even in the hollow of His hand, Nay, more! we lean upon His breast-- _There_, there we find a point of perfect rest And glorious safety. There we see His thoughts to usward, thoughts of peace That stoop in tenderest love; that still increase With increase of our need; that never change, That never fail, or falter, or forget O pity infinite! O royal mercy free! O gentle climax of the depth and height Of God's most precious thoughts, most wonderful, most strange! 'For I am poor and needy, yet The Lord Himself, Jehovah, _thinketh upon me_!'

'Free to Serve.'

She chose His service. For the Lord of Love Had chosen her, and paid the awful price For her redemption; and had sought her out, And set her free, and clothed her gloriously, And put His royal ring upon her hand, And crowns of loving-kindness on her head. She chose it. Yet it seemed she could not yield The fuller measure other lives could bring; For He had given her a precious gift, A treasure and a charge to prize and keep, A tiny hand, a darling hand, that traced On her heart's tablet words of golden love. And there was not much room for other lines, For time and thought were spent (and rightly spent, For He had given the charge), and hours and days Were concentrated on the one dear task. But He had need of her. Not one new gem But many for His crown;--not one fair sheaf, But many, she should bring. And she should have A richer, happier harvest-home at last. Because more fruit, more glory and more praise Her life should yield to Him. And so He came, The Master came Himself, and gently took The little hand in His, and gave it room Among the angel-harpers. Jesus came And laid His own hand on the quivering heart, And made it very still, that He might write Invisible words of power--'Free to serve!' Then through the darkness and the chill He sent A heat-ray of His love, developing The mystic writing, till it glowed and shone And lit up all her life with radiance new,-- The happy service of a yielded heart. With comfort that He never ceased to give (Because her need could never cease) she filled The empty chalices of other lives, And time and thought were thenceforth spent for Him Who loved her with His everlasting love.

Let Him write what He will upon our hearts, With His unerring pen. They are His own, Hewn from the rock by His selecting grace, Prepared for His own glory. Let Him write! Be sure He will not cross out one sweet word But to inscribe a sweeter,--but to grave One that shall shine for ever to His praise, And thus fulfil our deepest heart-desire. The tearful eye at first may read the line, 'Bondage to grief!' But He shall wipe away The tears, and clear the vision, till it read In ever-brightening letters, 'Free to serve!' For whom the Son makes free is free indeed. Nor only by reclaiming His good gifts, But by withholding, doth the Master write These words upon the heart. Not always needs Erasure of some blessèd line of love For this more blest inscription. Where He finds A tablet empty for the 'lines left out,' That 'might have been' engraved with human love And sweetest human cares, yet never bore That poetry of life, His own dear hand Writes 'Free to serve!' And these clear characters Fill with fair colours all the unclaimed space, Else grey and colourless. Then let it be The motto of our lives until we stand In the great freedom of Eternity, Where we '_shall_ serve Him' while we see His face, For ever and for ever 'Free to serve.'

Coming to the King.

2 Chronicles ix. 1-12.

I came from very far away to see The King of Salem; for I had been told Of glory and of wisdom manifold, And condescension infinite and free. How could I rest, when I had heard His fame, In that dark lonely land of death from whence I came?

I came (but not like Sheba's queen), alone! No stately train, no costly gifts to bring; No friend at court, save One, that One the King! I had requests to spread before His throne, And I had questions none could solve for me, Of import deep, and full of awful mystery.

I came and communed with that mighty King, And told Him all my heart; I cannot say, In mortal ear, what communings were they. But wouldst thou know, go too, and meekly bring All that is in thy heart, and thou shalt hear His voice of love and power, His answers sweet and clear.

O happy end of every weary quest! He told me all I needed, graciously;-- Enough for guidance, and for victory O'er doubts and fears, enough for quiet rest; And when some veiled response I could not read, It was not hid from Him,--this was enough indeed.

His wisdom and His glories passed before My wondering eyes in gradual revelation; The house that He had built, its strong foundation, Its living stones; and, brightening more and more, Fair glimpses of that palace far away, Where all His loyal ones shall dwell with Him for aye.

True the report that reached my far-off land Of all His wisdom and transcendent fame; Yet I believed not until I came,-- Bowed to the dust till raised by royal hand. The half was never told by mortal word; My King exceeded all the fame that I had heard!

Oh, happy are His servants! happy they Who stand continually before His face, Ready to do His will of wisest grace! My King! is mine such blessedness to-day? For I too hear Thy wisdom, line by line, Thy ever brightening words in holy radiance shine.

Oh, blessèd be the Lord thy God, who set Our King upon His throne! Divine delight In the Beloved crowning Thee with might, Honour, and majesty supreme; and yet The strange and Godlike secret opening thus,-- The kingship of His Christ ordained through love to us!

What shall I render to my glorious King? I have but that which I receive from Thee; And what I give, Thou givest back to me, Transmuted by Thy touch; each worthless thing Changed to the preciousness of gem or gold, And by Thy blessing multiplied a thousand fold.

All my desire Thou grantest, whatsoe'er I ask! Was ever mythic tale or dream So bold as this reality,--this stream Of boundless blessings flowing full and free? Yet more than I have thought or asked of Thee, Out of Thy royal bounty still Thou givest me.

Now I will turn to my own land, and tell What I myself have seen and heard of Thee. And give Thine own sweet message, 'Come and see!' And yet in heart and mind for ever dwell With Thee, my King of Peace, in loyal rest, Within the fair pavilion of Thy presence blest.

'Surely in what place my Lord the King shall be, whether in death or life, even there also will thy servant be.'--2 _Sam._ xv. 21.

'Where I am, there shall also my servant be.'--_John_ xii. 26.

The Two Paths.

Via Dolorosa and Via Giojosa.

[_Suggested by a Picture._]

My Master, they have wronged Thee and Thy love! They only told me I should find the path A Via Dolorosa all the way! Even Thy sweetest singers only sang Of pressing onward through the same sharp thorns, With bleeding footsteps, through the chill dark mist, Following and struggling till they reach the light, The rest, the sunshine of the far beyond. The anthems of the pilgrimage were set In most pathetic minors, exquisite, Yet breathing sadness more than any praise; Thy minstrels let the fitful breezes make Æolian moans on their entrusted harps, Until the listeners thought that this was all The music Thou hadst given. And so the steps That halted where the two ways met and crossed, The broad and narrow, turned aside in fear, Thinking the radiance of their youth must pass In sombre shadows if they followed Thee; Hearing afar such echoes of one strain, The cross, the tribulation, and the toil, The conflict, and the clinging in the dark. What wonder that the dancing feet are stayed From entering the only path of peace! Master, forgive them! Tune their harps anew, And put a new song in their mouths for Thee, And make Thy chosen people joyful in Thy love.

Lord Jesus, Thou hast trodden once for all The Via Dolorosa,--and for us! No artist power or minstrel gift may tell The cost to Thee of each unfaltering step, When love that passeth knowledge led Thee on, Faithful and true to God, and true to us. And now, belovèd Lord, Thou callest us To follow Thee, and we will take Thy word About the path which Thou hast marked for us. Narrow indeed it is! Who does not choose The narrow track upon the mountain side, With ever-widening view, and freshening air, And honeyed heather, rather than the road, With smoothest breadth of dust and loss of view, Soiled blossoms not worth gathering, and the noise Of wheels instead of silence of the hills, Or music of the waterfalls? Oh, why Should they misrepresent Thy words, and make 'Narrow' synonymous with 'very hard'? For Thou, Divinest Wisdom, Thou hast said Thy ways are ways of pleasantness, and all Thy paths are peace; and that the path of him Who wears Thy perfect robe of righteousness Is as the light that shineth more and more Unto the perfect day. And Thou hast given An olden promise, rarely quoted now,[footnote: Job xxvi. 15.] Because it is too bright for our weak faith: 'If they obey and serve Him, they shall spend Days in prosperity, and they shall spend Their years in pleasures.' All because Thy days Were full of sorrow, and Thy lonely years Were passed in grief's acquaintance--all for us!

Master, I set my seal that Thou art true, Of Thy good promise not one thing hath failed! And I would send a ringing challenge forth, To all who know Thy name, to tell it out, Thy faithfulness to every written word, Thy loving-kindness crowning all the days,-- To say and sing with me: 'The Lord is good, His mercy is for ever, and His truth Is written on each page of all my life!' Yes! there _is_ tribulation, but Thy power Can blend it with rejoicing. There _are_ thorns, But they have kept us in the narrow way, The King's Highway of holiness and peace. And there _is_ chastening, but the Father's love Flows through it; and would any trusting heart Forego the chastening and forego the love? And every step leads on to 'more and more,' From strength to strength Thy pilgrims pass and sing The praise of Him who leads them on and on, From glory unto glory, even here!

Only for Jesus.

Only for Jesus! Lord, keep it for ever Sealed on the heart and engraved on the life! Pulse of all gladness and nerve of endeavour, Secret of rest, and the strength of our strife.

'Vessels of Mercy, Prepared unto Glory.'

(Rom. ix. 23.)

Vessels of mercy, prepared unto glory! This is your calling and this is your joy! This, for the new year unfolding before ye, Tells out the terms of your blessed employ.

Vessels, it may be, all empty and broken, Marred in the Hand of inscrutable skill; (Love can accept the mysterious token!) Marred but to make them more beautiful still.

Jer. xviii. 4.

Vessels, it may be, not costly or golden; Vessels, it may be, of quantity small, Yet by the Nail in the Sure Place upholden, Never to shiver and never to fall.

Isa. xxii. 23, 24.

Vessels to honour, made sacred and holy, Meet for the use of the Master we love, Ready for service, all simple and lowly, Ready, one day, for the temple above.

2 Tim. ii. 21.

Yes, though the vessels be fragile and earthen, God hath commanded His glory to shine; Treasure resplendent henceforth is our burthen, Excellent power, not ours but Divine.

2 Cor. iv. 5, 6.

Chosen in Christ ere the dawn of Creation, Chosen for Him, to be filled with His grace, Chosen to carry the streams of salvation Into each thirsty and desolate place.

Acts ix. 15.

Take all Thy vessels, O glorious Finer, Purge all the dross, that each chalice may be Pure in Thy pattern, completer, diviner, Filled with Thy glory and shining for Thee.

Prov. xxv. 4.

The Turned Lesson.

'I thought I knew it!' she said, 'I thought I had learnt it quite!' But the gentle Teacher shook her head, With a grave yet loving light In the eyes that fell on the upturned face, As she gave the book With the mark still set in the self-same place.

'I thought I knew it!' she said; And a heavy tear fell down, As she turned away with bending head, Yet not for reproof or frown, Not for the lesson to learn again, Or the play hour lost;-- It was something else that gave the pain.

She could not have put it in words, But her Teacher understood, As God understands the chirp of the birds In the depth of an autumn wood. And a quiet touch on the reddening cheek Was quite enough; No need to question, no need to speak.

Then the gentle voice was heard, 'Now I will try you again!' And the lesson was mastered,--every word! Was it not worth the pain? Was it not kinder the task to turn, Than to let it pass, As a lost, lost leaf that she did not learn?

Is it not often so, That we only learn in part, And the Master's testing-time may show That it was not quite 'by heart'? Then He gives, in His wise and patient grace, That lesson again With the mark still set in the self-same place.

Only, stay by His side Till the page is really known. It may be we failed because we tried To learn it all alone, And now that He would not let us lose One lesson of love (For He knows the loss),--can we refuse?

But oh! how could we dream That we knew it all so well! Reading so fluently, as we deem, What we could not even spell! And oh! how could we grieve once more That Patient One Who has turned so many a task before!

That waiting One, who now Is letting us try again; Watching us with the patient brow, That bore the wreath of pain; Thoroughly teaching what He would teach, Line upon line, Thoroughly doing His work in each.

Then let our hearts 'be still,' Though our task is turned to-day; Oh let Him teach us what He will, In His own gracious way. Till, sitting only at Jesus' feet, As we learn each line The hardest is found all clear and sweet!

Sunday Night.

Rest him, O Father! Thou didst send him forth With great and gracious messages of love; But Thy ambassador is weary now, Worn with the weight of his high embassy. Now care for him as Thou hast cared for us In sending him; and cause him to lie down In Thy fresh pastures, by Thy streams of peace. Let Thy left hand be now beneath his head, And Thine upholding right encircle him, And, underneath, the Everlasting arms Be felt in full support. So let him rest, Hushed like a little child, without one care; And so give Thy belovèd sleep to-night.

Rest him, dear Master! He hath poured for us The wine of joy, and we have been refreshed. Now fill _his_ chalice, give him sweet new draughts Of life and love, with Thine own hand; be Thou His ministrant to-night; draw very near In all Thy tenderness and all Thy power. Oh speak to him! Thou knowest how to speak A word in season to Thy weary ones, And he is weary now. Thou lovest him-- Let Thy disciple lean upon Thy breast, And, leaning, gain new strength to 'rise and shine.'

Rest him, O loving Spirit! Let Thy calm Fall on his soul to-night. O holy Dove, Spread Thy bright wing above him, let him rest Beneath its shadow; let him know afresh The infinite truth and might of Thy dear name-- 'Our Comforter!' As gentlest touch will stay The strong vibrations of a jarring chord, So lay Thy hand upon his heart, and still Each overstraining throb, each pulsing pain. Then, in the stillness, breathe upon the strings, And let thy holy music overflow With soothing power his listening, resting soul.

A Song in the Night.

[Written in severe pain, Sunday afternoon, October 8th, 1876, at the Pension Wengen, Alps.]

I take this pain, Lord Jesus, From Thine own hand, The strength to bear it bravely Thou wilt command.

I am too weak for effort, So let me rest, In hush of sweet submission, On Thine own breast.

I take this pain, Lord Jesus, As proof indeed That Thou art watching closely My truest need;

That Thou, my Good Physician, Art watching still; That all Thine own good pleasure Thou wilt fulfil.

I take this pain, Lord Jesus; What Thou dost choose The soul that really loves Thee Will not refuse.

It is not for the first time I trust to-day; For Thee my heart has never A trustless 'Nay!'

I take this pain, Lord Jesus; But what beside? 'Tis no unmingled portion Thou dost provide.

In every hour of faintness My cup runs o'er With faithfulness and mercy, And love's sweet store.

I take this pain, Lord Jesus, As Thine own gift; And true though tremulous praises I now uplift.

I am too weak to sing them, But Thou dost hear The whisper from the pillow, Thou art so near!

'Tis Thy dear hand, O Saviour, That presseth sore, The hand that bears the nail-prints For evermore.

And now beneath its shadow, Hidden by Thee, The pressure only tells me Thou lovest me!

What will You do without Him?

I could not do without Him! Jesus is more to me Than all the richest, fairest gifts Of earth could ever be. But the more I find Him precious-- And the more I find Him true-- The more I long for you to find What He can be to you.

You need not do without Him, For He is passing by, He is waiting to be gracious, Only waiting for your cry: He is waiting to receive you-- To make you all His own! Why will you do without Him, And wander on alone?

Why will you do without Him? Is He not kind indeed? Did He not die to save you? Is He not all you need? Do you not want a Saviour? Do you not want a Friend? One who will love you faithfully, And love you to the end?

Why will you do without Him? The Word of God is true! The world is passing to its doom-- And you are passing too. It may be no to-morrow Shall dawn on you or me; Why will you run the awful risk Of all eternity?

What will you do without Him, In the long and dreary day Of trouble and perplexity, When you do not know the way, And no one else can help you, And no one guides you right, And hope comes not with morning, And rest comes not with night?

You could not do without Him, If once He made you see The fetters that enchain you, Till He hath set you free. If once you saw the fearful load Of sin upon your soul; The hidden plague that ends in death, Unless He makes you whole!

What will you do without Him, When death is drawing near? Without His love--the only love That casts out every fear; When the shadow-valley opens, Unlighted and unknown, And the terrors of its darkness Must all be passed alone!

What will you do without Him, When the great white throne is set, And the Judge who never can mistake, And never can forget,-- The Judge whom you have never here As Friend and Saviour sought, Shall summon you to give account Of deed and word and thought?

What will you do without Him, When He hath shut the door, And you are left outside, because You would not come before? When it is no use knocking, No use to stand and wait; For the word of doom tolls through your heart That terrible 'Too late!'

You cannot do without Him! There is no other name By which you ever _can_ be saved, No way, no hope, no claim! Without Him--everlasting loss Of love, and life, and light! Without Him--everlasting woe, And everlasting night.

But with Him--oh! _with Jesus_! Are any words so blest? With Jesus, everlasting joy And everlasting rest! With Jesus--all the empty heart Filled with His perfect love; With Jesus--perfect peace below, And perfect bliss above.

Why should you do without Him? It is not yet too late; He has not closed the day of grace, He has not shut the gate. He calls you! hush! He calls you! He would not have you go Another step without Him, Because He loves you so.

Why will you do without Him? He calls and calls again-- 'Come unto Me! Come unto Me!' Oh, shall He call in vain? He wants to have you with Him; Do you not want Him too? You cannot do without Him, And He wants--even you.

Church Missionary Jubilee Hymn.

'He shall see of the travail of His soul, and shall be satisfied.'--Isa. liii. 11.

Rejoice with Jesus Christ to-day, All ye who love His holy sway! The travail of His soul is past, He shall be satisfied at last.

Rejoice with Him, rejoice indeed! For He shall see His chosen seed. But ours the trust, the grand employ, To work out this divinest joy.

Of all His own He loseth none, They shall be gathered one by one; He gathereth the smallest grain, His travail shall not be in vain.

Arise and work! arise and pray That He would haste the dawning day! And let the silver trumpet sound, Wherever Satan's slaves are found.

The vanquished foe shall soon be stilled, The conquering Saviour's joy fulfilled, Fulfilled in us, fulfilled in them, His crown, His royal diadem.

Soon, soon our waiting eyes shall see The Saviour's mighty Jubilee! His harvest joy is filling fast, He shall be satisfied at last.

A Happy New Year to You!

New mercies, new blessings, new light on thy way; New courage, new hope, and new strength for each day; New notes of thanksgiving, new chords of delight, New praise in the morning, new songs in the night, New wine in thy chalice, new altars to raise; New fruits for thy Master, new garments of praise; New gifts from His treasures, new smiles from His face; New streams from the Fountain of infinite grace; New stars for thy crown, and new tokens of love; New gleams of the glory that waits thee above; New light of His countenance, full and unpriced; All this be the joy of thy new life in Christ!

Another Year.

Another year is dawning! Dear Master, let it be In working or in waiting, Another year with Thee.

Another year of leaning Upon Thy loving breast, Of ever-deepening trustfulness, Of quiet, happy rest.

Another year of mercies, Of faithfulness and grace; Another year of gladness In the shining of Thy face.

Another year of progress, Another year of praise; Another year of proving Thy presence 'all the days.'

Another year of service, Of witness for Thy love; Another year of training For holier work above.

Another year is dawning! Dear Master, let it be On earth, or else in heaven, Another year for Thee!

New Year's Wishes.

What shall I wish thee? Treasures of earth? Songs in the springtime, Pleasure and mirth? Flowers on thy pathway, Skies ever clear? Would this ensure thee A Happy New Year?

What shall I wish thee? What can be found Bringing thee sunshine All the year round? Where is the treasure, Lasting and dear, That shall ensure thee A Happy New Year?

Faith that increaseth, Walking in light; Hope that aboundeth, Happy and bright; Love that is perfect, Casting out fear; These shall ensure thee A Happy New Year.

Peace in the Saviour, Rest at His feet, Smile of His countenance Radiant and sweet, Joy in His presence! Christ ever near! This will ensure thee A Happy New Year!

'Most Blessed For Ever.'

(_Though the date of these lines is uncertain, they are chosen as a closing chord to her songs on earth._)

The prayer of many a day is all fulfilled, Only by full fruition stayed and stilled; You asked for blessing as your Father willed, Now He hath answered: 'Most blessed for ever!'

Lost is the daily light of mutual smile, You therefore sorrow now a little while; But floating down life's dimmed and lonely aisle Comes the clear music: 'Most blessed for ever!'

From the great anthems of the Crystal Sea, Through the far vistas of Eternity, Grand echoes of the word peal on for thee, Sweetest and fullest: 'Most blessed for ever.'