Poetry. "COME UNTO ME." Hear what the Lord hath spoken, BIBLE QUESTIONS. 41. Where does St. Paul speak of "the earnest of the Spirit in our hearts"? 42. What are we advised, with respect to "bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking"? 43. Who "often refreshed Paul, and was not ashamed of his chain"? 44. Who was able to say that he did not fear". a great multitude, nor the contempt of families"? 45. "If we have forgotten the name of God," what will God do? 46. "When the flesh and the heart faileth," what then must be the believer's resource? 47. Where do we read of a woman who deducted 900 shekels of silver out of 1,100 which she had previously dedicated to the Lord? 48. Of whom is it recorded, "No man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day"? ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS OF LAST MONTH. (33.) Judges iv. 5. (36.) Ísa. vii. 14. (37.) 1 xi, 28. (40.) Gal. ii. 20. (34.) 2 Kings v. 4. (35.) Matt. iv. 9. Cor. iii. 22. (38.) Acts xx. 19. (39.) Luke THE FRIENDLY VISITOR. EDITED BY THE REV. C. CARUS.WILSON. IS CHRIST YOURS? You may know if you have Christ by this: Has He done anything in you? We have not only a great High Priest for us, but this great High Priest does many things in us, and by that we know we have Him. Whenever Christ comes to take possession of the heart, He does something in the heart that will easily make a difference betwixt Christ, the new possessor, and the devil that was the old one. You will find that his sacrifice has been powerful upon your hearts; you will find the benefit of his intercession has been many times perceived by you. Every child of God finds frequently experience of the thing. They many times pray, and pray poorly, and are heard graciously; they wonder, they are surprised with mercies they did not look for; they admire whence they flow. Alas! the poor creature does not know that there is a great Friend in heaven that remembers him, and these are the fruits of his remembrance. You may know if you have Christ thus: If you have daily work for Him, you have Him; for, if you understand it rightly, it is a certain truth, that the employing of Christ is the enjoying of Him. It is impossible that any can employ H Christ in any part of his office, that has not Christ in that office really bestowed upon him. If, therefore, you have Christ, this will unavoidably be; you have an evidence that you have Him by this, that you have daily work for this great High Priest; you need the sprinkling of his blood for your daily transgressions, and need the efficacy of his grace for your daily wants. There is never a worse sign for a man that has not Christ, than that he has no sense of the want of Him. He that has no work for Christ is yet without God and Christ in the world; and a poor believer, that groans in a sense of his need of Christ, is oftentimes discouraged, when it should be an argument of encouragement. Believers, if they be lively and growing, will find the universal sense of all of them to be this::- "In truth, I find I have far more need of Christ than I had twenty, thirty years ago." As his fulness is discovered, and our emptiness discovered to us, our employing Him does increase, as well as our enjoyment of Him. ACCESS TO GOD. HOWEVER early in the morning you seek the gate of access, you find it already open; and however deep the midnight moment when you find yourself in the sudden arms of death, the winged prayer can bring an instant Saviour; and this wherever you are. It needs not that you ascend some special Pisgah or Moriah. It needs not that you should enter some awful shrine, or pull off your shoes on some holy ground. Could a memento be reared on every spot from which an acceptable prayer has passed away, and on which a prompt answer has come down, we should find Jehovah shammah, "The Lord hath been here," inscribed on many a cottage hearth, and many a dungeon floor. We should find it not only in Jerusalem's proud temple, and David's cedar galleries, but in the fisherman's cottage by the brink of Gennesaret, and in the upper chamber where Pentecost began. And whether it be the field where Isaac went down to meditate, or the rocky knoll where Israel wrestled, or the den where Daniel gazed on the hungry lions, and the lions gazed on him, or the hill-side where the Man of Sorrows prayed all night, we should still discern the ladder's feet let down from heaven-the landingplace of mercies, because the starting-place of prayer. THE PATTERN CHARACTER. THE character of the Redeemer partook of no asceticism. The home of Jesus was in the centre of Galilean and (Jerusalem excepted) the centre of Palestine life. He was, in this respect, unlike his great forerunner, John the Baptist. Rigid, austere, separating himself from the amenities of existence, the wilderness and solitudes of Judea were his abode. He shunned society. He came and delivered his message to teeming multitudes by day, and then, as the night shadows gathered around the Jordan, he plunged back into the untrodden wilds, with no eye to look kindly on him but that of One whose presence to him was more than all human tenderness could be! There was much to love, at least to revere, about the harbinger of the Messiah. He was bold, honest, intrepid, sincere. He had forsaken all for the sake of his message. He could afford no time to fritter away in a worthless world. It took him the livelong night to get his spirit braced up for the solemn embassy of the morrow. With the prayer still lingering on his lips, he went forth with the old burning message of persuasion and terror-"Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!" But the home of Jesus was not the wilderness! No secluded nook was his selected dwelling-no quiet Palestine hamlet, where he could dwell in mystic loneliness, refusing to mingle in the common business and duties of life. He pitched his own tent in the midst of human tabernacles, amid the din and bustle of a town, the hum of busy industry ever around Him, coming in contact with every description of character-rich and poor, Jew and Gentile, bond and free, noblemen, centurions, publicans at the receipt of custom, sailors and bargemen on the lake, rude Galilean mountaineers and shepherds, caravans crossing with motley crowds from Syria to Persia, to lower Palestine and Egypt. He met them all, in free, unrestrained intercourse. At one time, reading to the Jews in their synagogue. At another, gathering the multitude, at their spare hours, by the sea-side, with suggestive nature before Him,his pulpit a fisherman's bark,proclaiming the great salvation. At another, seating a similar crowd on the rank grass at the head of the lake, he would miraculously feed them with the bread which perisheth, and unfold spiritual things from the carnal type. Nor do we find Him in any way spurning the duties and delights of social fellowship. At one time, he consecrates with his presence a marriage-feast at the neighbouring Cana. At another, he is guest in a Pharisee's house, eating with publicans and sinners. At another, as the Jewish Sabbath sun sinks behind Mount Tabor, lo, the shores and highways are lined with eager hundreds. The sick and palsied, the blind and lame, come to receive the magic touch, and listen to the Omnipotent Word! Wherever He goes, his steps are tracked with mercy; misery, in every form, crouches at his feet; and gratitude bathes the wondrous Healer with its tears. Thus much for his outward, public, social life, the stirring scenes of ministry and miracle. But is the portraiture complete? Does the revelation of the ideal of human perfection end here? Turn we now to its other phase, the remaining complement in that wondrous character;—the PRIVATE Life of Jesus. He had, as each of his people have, a secret, inner being, in conjunction with the outer and social; the one a reflex of the other. That busy world on the one side of the Sea of Tiberias, witnessed his mighty deeds, heard his weighty words, and glowed under the sunshine of holy smiles and joyous friendships. But amid these boats flitting up and down the lake, one may ever and anon be seen (as the twilight shadows are falling) gently traversing its bosom; and, when moored on the other side, a figure, companionless and alone, is ascending the rugged steeps of the mountain, until the veil of night shuts Him out from view. When the lights of luxury are gleaming on the opposite shores, and the fisherman's oars are heard pursuing their nightly task, the Son of Man and Lord of glory is seeking refreshment and repose for his soul in divine communion. With the deep solitudes of nature for his oratory, He "continues all night in prayer to God." He is left "alone," and yet He is " not alone," for his "God and Father are with him." Most beautiful union of the active and contemplative; public duty and private devotion; ceaseless exertion and needful spiritual cessation and repose; the outer life all given to God and man; the private inner life sedulously cared for and nurtured, night by night, morning by morning, the sinless and spotless one fetching down heavenly supplies, as if in every respect He were tempted as we are," requiring equal strength for duty and preparation for trial. How it links us in sympathy to this adorable Redeemer, to think that He had 66 |