P Arrows

P Pardon—Free. A prisoner was taken out to die, and as he rode along in the death cart his heart was heavy at the thought of death, and none could cheer him of all the throng. The gallows tree was in sight, and this blotted out the sun for him. But lo, his prince came riding up in hot haste bearing a free pardon. Then the man opened his eyes, and, as though he had risen from the dead, he returned to happy consciousness. The sight of his prince had chased all gloom away. He declared that he had never seen a fairer countenance in all his days: and when he read his pardon he vowed that no poetry should ever be dearer to his heart than those few lines of sovereign grace. Friends, I remember well when I was in that death cart, and Jesus came to me with pardon.

Peace.

Augustine, after years of tossing to and fro, found peace with God by hearing a little child say, "Take up, and read." I suppose that the child was singing to itself, and hardly knew what it was saying as it repeated to itself the two words—"Tolle, lege; tolle, lege; tolle, lege." "Take up, and read." That voice struck the ear of the perplexed thinker as though it were the voice of God, and he took the Scripture, and read the Scripture, and no sooner had he read it than he found Christ. I would entreat each one of you to do this, in order that you may find rest for your soul. Believe what is revealed in Holy Scripture.

Peace—a baseless. A poor woman was the loving mother of an only son. He was very dear to her. He fell sick; indeed, he was sick unto death; but the mother could not bear to think so. She scraped together the needful fee for a physician; and oh, the peace of heart she had when the trusted man came downstairs and said to her, "Your son will recover; there is no grave cause to fear. Nurse him carefully, and he will soon be at his post again." The mother was restful of heart because she believed the doctor. Within a single day her son died, and those hours of false peace were the wormwood and gall of her affliction. It was a sad, sad pity for her hopes to have been raised, for she cried, "If I had only have known he was going to die, I would not have felt the loss so severely; but I am grievously disappointed. How could the doctor tell me he would live?" The physician was either greatly mistaken, or else wished to soothe the mother's manifest anxiety. If the latter was the case, his untruthfulness was unwisdom. I cannot follow the like course. It is a pity to create a peace which is baseless.

Peace made with God.

I like the language of a poor bricklayer, who fell from a scaffold, and was so injured that he was ready to die. The clergyman of the parish came and said, "My dear man, I am afraid you will die. You had better make your peace with God." To the joy of the clergyman, the man said, "Make my peace with God, sir! That was made for me upon Calvary's Cross eighteen hundred years ago; and I know it." Ah! that is it—to have peace that was made by the blood of Christ all those years ago—a peace that can never be broken. Then come life, come death, aye! come a lengthened life and ripe old age: the best preparation for a lengthened life is to know the Lord.

Peace—uplifting. The compass on board an iron steam-vessel is placed aloft, so that it may not be so much influenced by the metal of the ship: though surrounded by that which would put it out of place, the needle faithfully adheres to the pole, because it is set above misleading influence. So with the child of God when the Lord has given him peace: he is lifted beyond the supremacy of his sorrowful surroundings, and his heart is delivered from its sad surroundings.

Perfection—modern.

You have heard the classic story of the Rhodian, who said that at such and such a place he had made a jump of many yards. He bragged till a Greek, who stood by, chalked out the distance, and said, "Would you mind jumping half that length now?" So I have heard people talk of what enjoyments they once had. I have heard of a man who has the roots of depravity dug out of him; and as for sin, he has almost forgotten what it is. I would like to watch that brother when under the influence of rheumatism. I do not want him to have it long, but I should like him to have a twinge or two, that I might see whether some roots of corruption do not remain. I think that when he was tried in that way, or if not just in that way, in some other, he would find that there was a rootlet or two still in the soil. If a storm were to come on, perhaps our brave dry land sailor might not find his anchor quite so easy to cast overboard as he now thinks it is. You smile at the talk of modern perfection, and so do I; but I am sick of it.

Persecution. When Hamilton was burned in Scotland, there was such an impetus given to the gospel through his burning that the adversaries of the gospel were wont to say, "Let us burn no more martyrs in public, for the smoke of Hamilton's burning has made many eyes to smart until they were opened." So, no doubt, it always was. Persecution is a red hand which scatters the white wheat far and wide.

Persecution.

I was reading the other day the life of John Philpot, who was shut up in Bishop Bonner's coal-hole in Fulham Palace. There he and his friends sang psalms so merrily that the Bishop chided them for their mirth. They could have quoted apostolical authority for singing in prison. When there were seven of them, Philpot wrote: "I was carried to my lord's coal-house again, where I, with my six fellow prisoners, do rouse together in the straw as cheerfully, we thank God, as others do in their beds of down." To be with the people of God, one would not mind being in the coal-hole. No one wants to be in Bonner's coal hole; but better be there with the martyrs than upstairs in the palace with the Bishop. To hear the saints' holy talk, and sing with them their gladsome psalms, and with them behold the angel of the covenant, is a very different thing from mere suffering or imprisonment.

Perseverance.

I am reminded of Sir Christopher Wren, when he cleared away old St. Paul's to make room for his splendid pile. He was compelled to use battering rams upon the massive walls. The workmen kept on battering and battering. An enormous force was brought to bear upon the walls for days and nights, but it did not appear to have made the least impression upon the ancient masonry. Yet the great architect knew what he was at: he bade them keep on incessantly, and the ram fell again and again upon the rocky wall, till at length the whole mass was disintegrating and coming apart; and then each stroke began to tell. At a blow it reeled, at another it quivered, at another it moved visibly, at another it fell over amid clouds of dust. These last strokes did the work. Do you think so? No, it was the combination of blows, the first as truly as the last. Keep on with the battering ram.

Personal testimony helpful. When we meet with a man who has been in special trouble, and he has escaped from it, we are anxious to know how it came to pass, in order that, if we are cast into a similar trial, we also may resort to the same door of hope. You meet with a man who has long been sore afflicted, and to find him full of joy at his relief is a pleasure and a personal comfort. You heard him lamenting for years, and now you hear him rejoicing, and this excites your wonder and your hope. It is as though a cripple saw another lame man leaping and running. He very naturally enquires, "How is this?" The other day you saw a blind man begging in the streets, and now he has an eye bright as that which sparkles on the face of a gazelle, and you cry in astonishment, "Tell me who was the occulist that operated on your eyes, for I may be in a like case, and I should be glad to know where to go." Here, then, we have a gate of knowledge opened before us.

Pleasures—sinking sand.

There is no real cause for envying the wicked, for their present is danger, their future is doom. I see them now, on yonder island, sporting, dancing, feasting merrily. I am standing as on a bare rock, and I might well envy them their island of roses and lilies; but as I watch I see their fairy island gradually sinking to destruction. The ocean is rising all round; the waves are carrying away the shores, even while they dance the floods advance. Lo, yonder is one infatuated wretch sinking amidst the devouring flood; the rest continue at their play, but it cannot last much longer. They will soon be gone. Let me stand on my lone rock, rather than sink amid their fleeting luxury. Let me abide in safety rather than dance where danger is round.

"On Christ the solid rook I stand;

All other ground is sinking sand."

Power of truth. A Unitarian minister who preached that wild doctrine of universal salvation, which is so popular just now, once met an old-fashioned Baptist brother, who was not a well educated man, but who had a crowded congregation, while his brother had only a dozen or two to hear him eloquently discourse. The Unitarian said, "I cannot make out how it is that there is such a difference in our congregations, you get so many to hear you, and I so few. I preach a very pleasing doctrine. I tell the people that all will be right with them at last. I do not worry them with any doctrines of repentance and faith and atonement, and yet they will not come to hear me. You preach a very dreary doctrine, and you tell the people that except they repent they shall perish and be cast into hell, and yet they crowd your place to hear you. How is that?" "Well," said the old man, "I think it is, my friend, because they have a shrewd suspicion that what I say is true, and that what you say is not true." There he hit the nail on the head. It is so. The conscience of men bids them distrust the word which tells them there will be no difference between the righteous and the wicked.

Practical Christianity. When a ship first leaves the stocks it is well for it to go a trial trip, but to have a ship always being tried would be very absurd; it is time that it took voyages in real earnest, and was registered in the merchant service; there will be then trial enough in the actual execution of service. Some Christians, by a continual introspection, are always raising the point, "Am I a Christian?" Brother, be a Christian. "Am I a child of God?" Brother, be a child of God, and enjoy it; and do not spend a lifetime in searching for the family register.

Praise—whole-souled. When the photographer fits that iron rest at the back of your head, and keeps you waiting about ten minutes while he gets his plates ready, why your soul goes out of town, and nothing remains but that heavy look. When the work of art is finished, it is you, and yet it is not you. You were driven out by the touch of that iron. Another time, perhaps, your portrait is taken instantaneously, while you are in an animated attitude, while your whole soul is there; and your friends say, "Ay, that is your very self." I want you to bless the Lord with your soul at home as in that portrait. I saw a book today, wherein the writer says in the preface, "We have given a portrait of our mother, but there was a kind of sacred twinkle about her eyes, which no photograph could reproduce." Now it is my heart's desire that you do praise the Lord with that sacred twinkle, with that feature or faculty which is most characteristic of you. Let your eyes praise Him. Let your brow praise Him. Let every part of your manhood be aroused, and so aroused as to be in fine form.

Prayer.

We used to have an old member of this church who used to pray in very extraordinary places. Two women were fighting, and he knelt down between them to pray, and they gave over fighting directly. Before a door when there has been a noise in the house he has begun to pray. He was better than a policeman, for his prayer awed the most obstinate. They could not understand it: they thought it a strange thing, and they did not care to put themselves into direct opposition to the man of God. There is a wonderful power in prayer to bless ourselves, besides the blessings that it will bring upon others. Pray with the weak ones, and you will not be a weak one yourself.

Prayer—A begging.

You are so troubled that you cannot speak. Well, then, copy the beggars in the street. They must not beg, for that is contrary to law. But a man sits down, and writes on a spade, "I am starving," and he looks as white as a sheet. What a picture of misery! He is not begging; not he; but the money comes dropping into the old hat. So, when you cannot pray, I believe that your silent display of utter inability is the best sort of praying. The blessing comes when we sit down before the Lord, and in sheer desperation expose our spiritual need.

Prayer—Ceaseless. The Lord girdles the globe with intercessions, by His daily and nightly watchers. As our Queen's morning drum beats round the globe, so does ceaseless prayer cast a belt of golden grace around the earth.

Prayer—Definite.

Like a playful boy, you get your bow and arrows and shoot them anywhere. The way to pray is to take in hand the aforesaid bow and arrows, and—you think I am going to say, shoot them with all your might; but I am not in such haste. Wait a bit! Yes, draw the string, and fit the arrow to it, but wait, wait! Wait till you see distinctly the center of the mark! What can be the use of shooting if you have not something to shoot at? Wait, then, till you know what you are going to do. You want to strike the white, to pierce the centre of the target. Be sure, then, that you get it well into your eye! Imitate David, who says, "In the morning will I direct my prayer unto thee; and will look up." He has fixed the arrow, drawn the bow, and taken deliberate aim, now is the time for the next act; he lets the arrow fly. How well directed! See! he has made a center! He caught the mark with his eye, and therefore he has struck it with his arrow. Oh, to pray with a distinct object! Indefinite praying is a waste of breath.

Prayer—Family.

Sir Thomas Abney had been accustomed to have family prayer at a certain time. He was made Lord Mayor of London. His hour of family prayer being some time about the time of the banquet, he begged to be excused for a little, for he had an urgent engagement with a special friend. He then went and called his family together, to meet with God in prayer Do the same; if even a banquet should come down upon you, quit the table for the altar, and your guests for your God.

Prayer never hinders work. In a little church on the Italian mountains I saw, amongst many absurd daubings, one picture which struck me. There was a ploughman who had turned aside at a certain hour to pray. The rustic artist drew him on his knees before the opened heavens; and lest there should be any waste of time occasioned by this, an angel was going on ploughing for him. I like the idea. I do not think an angel ever did go on with a man's ploughing while he was praying, but I think that the same result often does come to pass, and that when we give our hearts to God, and seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, all these things are added unto us.

Prayer—Prevalent.

Those who deny the efficacy of prayer never pray; nay, are not capable of offering prevalent prayer. Yet these fellows get up and say it is of no avail. They remind me of the Irish prisoner who was brought up for murder, and half a dozen people swore that they had seen him do the deed. "Your lordship," said he, "I could bring you ten times as many who didn't see me do it." Yes, but that was no evidence at all; and in the same way these people have the impudence to set up their theory on no better grounds than the fact that they do not pray and God does not hear them.

Prayer—Private. A little boy, who was accustomed to spend some time every day in prayer, went up into a hayloft, and when he climbed into the hayloft, he always pulled the ladder up after him. Someone asked him why he did so. He answered, "As there is no door, I pull up the ladder." Oh, that we could always in some way cut the connection between our soul and the intruding things which lurk below! There is a story told of some person, I never knew who it was, who desired to see me on a Saturday night, when I had shut myself up to make ready for the Sabbath. He was very great and important, and so the maid came to say that someone desired to see me. I bade her say that it was my rule to see no one at that time. Then he was more important and impressive still, and said, "Tell Mr. Spurgeon that a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ desires to see him immediately." The frightened servant brought the message; but the sender gained little by it, for my answer was, "Tell him I am busy with his Master, and cannot see servants now."

Prayer prompted by God.

What a gracious God He is! Suppose a case. A great king has been grievously offended by a rebellious subject, but in kindness of heart he wills to be reconciled. He invites the rebel to sue for pardon. He replies, "O king, I would fain be forgiven, but how can I properly approch your offended majesty? I am anxious to present such a petition as you can accept. But I know not how to draw it up." Suppose this great king were to say, "I will draw up the petition for you," what confidence the supplicant would feel in presenting the petition. He brings to the king his own words. He prays the prayer he is bidden to pray. By the very fact of drawing up the petition, the monarch pledged himself to grant it. O, my hearer, the Lord puts it in your mouth to say this morning, "Take away all iniquity." May you find it in your heart to pray in that fashion. That prayer is best which is offered in God's own way, and is of God's own prompting.

Prayer to fee studied.

If I had an invitation to visit the Queen, and was told I might ask what I pleased of Her Majesty, I should prepare my request. If I wished to make the most of the interview, I should reflect, and set my petition in order. I might ask amiss; I might ask for something inconsistent, or something unfit for royalty to bestow. I should therefore turn my prayer over. When you go before God, it is well to know what you want.

Praying in fine weather.

There was a storm at sea once, and there was a young man on board who was not used to storms, and he feel into a great state of mind. He was not of much use on board the ship, through his fears. He crept into a corner, and knelt down to pray; but the captain, on coming along, could not stand that. He shouted, "Get up, you coward; say your prayers in fine weather." He did get up, saying to himself, "I only hope that I may see fine weather to say my prayers in." When he landed, the words the captain said remained in his mind. He said, "That is quite correct, I will say my prayers in fine weather." I would say to you who hope to live a hundred years, say your prayers in fine weather."

Preacher converted by his own preaching.

I wish that it might happen to you as it did with my dear friend, Mr. Haslam, whom God has blessed to the conversion of so many. He was preaching a sermon that he did not understand, and while he preached it, he converted himself. By God's grace he began to feel the power of the Holy Spirit and the force of divine truth. He so spoke that a Methodist in the congregation called out, "The parson is converted"; and so the parson was. He owned it, and praised God for it, and all the people sang:—

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow." His own utterances concerning Christ crucified had been the power of God unto salvation to him.

Preaching remembered by practice.

I heard of one who was asked by her minister whether she remembered last Sunday's sermon. "No," she said, "it is all gone." "But you ought to remember it," said the minister. "No," she replied, "I am not expected to remember it, for you do not remember it yourself; you read it all from a paper." The argument is, if the preacher does not remember his own preaching to put it into practice, how can he expect others to do so?

Preaching with hands and feet. The religion of mere brain and jaw does not amount to much. We want the religion of hands and feet. I remember a place in Yorkshire, years ago, where a good man said to me, "We have a real good minister." I said, "I am glad to hear it." "Yes," he said, "he preaches with his feet." Well, now, that is a capital thing if a preacher preaches with his feet by walking with God, and with his hands by working for God.

Precious blood to be used. A gentleman has purchased a very expensive sword, with a golden hilt and an elaborate scabbard: he hangs it up in his hall, and exhibits it to his friends. Occasionally he draws it out from the sheath, and he says, "Feel how keen is the edge!" The precious blood of Jesus is not meant for us merely to admire and exhibit. We must not be content to talk about it, and extol it, and do nothing with it; but we are to use it in the great crusade against unholiness and unrighteousness, till it is said of us, "They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb."

Prejudice—ears stopped with.

I have read that in the reign of Queen Elizabeth there was a law made that everybody should go to his parish church ; but many sincere Romanists loathed to go and hear Protestant doctrine. Through fear of persecution, they attended the parish church; but they took care to fill their ears with wool, so that they should not hear what their priests condemned. It is wretched work preaching to a congregation whose ears are stopped with prejudices.

Preparation for the Lord's coming.

If I were asked to visit you tomorrow evening, I am sure you would make some preparations for my call, even for one so commonplace as myself. You would prepare, because you would welcome me. If you expected the Queen to call, how excited you would be. What preparations a good housewife would make for a royal visitor. When we expect our Lord to come we shall be concerned to have everything ready for Him. I sometimes see the gates open in front of the larger houses in the suburbs, and it means that they are expecting company. Keep the great gates of your soul always open, expecting your Lord to come. It is idle to look about for His coming, if we never set our house in order and never put ourselves in readiness for His reception.

Presence of God in all things.

O child of God, when you are troubled it is because you fancy you are alone; but you are not alone, the Eternal Worker is with you. Listen, and you will hear the revolution of those matchless wheels which are forever turning according to the will of the Lord. These wheels are high and dreadful, but they move with fixed and steady motion, and they are "full of eyes round about." Their course is no blind track of a car of Juggernaut, but the eyes see, the eyes look towards their end, the eyes look upon all that comes within the circuit of the wheels. Oh, for a little heavenly eye-salve to touch our eyes, that we may perceive the presence of the Lord in all things! Then shall we see the mountain to be full of horses of fire, and chariots of fire round about the prophets of the Lord. The stars in their courses are fighting for the cause of God. Our allies are everywhere. God will summon them at the right moment.

Presence of Jesus.

Set a bird of the day flying by night, and see how it flutters, and how uneasy it is. Go with a candle, if you will, to any place where a number of birds have made their nests, and see how strangely bewildered they are. The only bird that will be at home in the dark is the owl, the bird of the night; and if any one of you can be happy without your Master you are of the night. If you can be content without the sunlight of Jesus' presence, depend upon it you are one of the bats of the cavern ; you are not one of the eagles of the day.

Promise—a key.

Sometimes you lose the key of a drawer, and you must have it opened, and therefore you send for the whitesmith, and he comes in with a great bunch of keys. Somewhere among them he has a key that will open your drawer. The Bible contains keys that will open the iron gates of your trouble, and give you freedom from your sorrow. The point is to find out the right promise ; and the Spirit of God often helps us in that matter by bringing the words of the Lord Jesus to our remembrance.

Promises—Christian riches.

I met with a story which seemed to me rather a pretty one. There was a young woman, fair to look upon, who was seen by a very wealthy gentleman, who determined to make her his wife. She had been brought up to habits of rigid economy, for the family was straitened in circumstances. Her father was not one of the poorest, but still, poor enough ; and on her marriage day he gave her all he could, namely, put five pounds to her banking account; on the same day, her husband also put a sum, namely, for ,£1,000, into the same bank, and handed her a check book that she might draw what she liked. Well, having been properly brought up, she spent her money very, very carefully. She soon found it gone, however, because of the new circle into which she had been taken. Then she went and drew £10, in great fear lest they would not give her the ten sovereigns all at once, and when she had received them, she was surprised and overjoyed ; she soon ran through this, and drew again till she had drawn £50. One day her husband said, "You little goose, I thought you did not know how to manage a check book." She said, "Why, have I been too extravagant?" "No," he said, "most women would have drawn and spent a thousand pounds. But instead of that, you have only spent fifty pounds, and you cannot behave yourself as my wife on such a pittance. Remember, you may be a poor man's daughter, but you are a rich man's wife; so just begin to spend according to my riches, and not your father's economy." This is our case in reference to our Lord Jesus. We know we are a poor man's children. Our original father "broke" long ago. There was nothing left of all the family estate. When father Adam was in business, he became a bankrupt, and left us nothing but a sea of debt. But then we are married to King Jesus, who is Heir of all things, and He puts the check* book of promises into our hands, that we may draw from the riches of divine grace.

Promises like checks. A promise is like a check. If I have a check what do I do with it? Suppose I carried it about in my pocket, and said, "I do not see the use of this bit of paper, I cannot buy anything with it," a person would say, "Have you been to the bank with it?" "No, I did not think of that." "But it is payable to your order. Have you written your name on the back of it?" "No, I have not done that." "And yet you are blaming the person who gave you the check? The whole blame lies with yourself. Put your name at the back of the check, go with it to the bank, and you will get what is promised to you." A prayer should be the presentation of God's promise endorsed by your personal faith. I hear of people praying for an hour together. I am very pleased that they can; but it is seldom that I can do so, and I see no need for it. It is like a person going into a bank with a check, and stopping an hour. The clerks would wonder. The common-sense way is to go to the counter and show your check, and take your money, and go about your business. There is a style of prayer which is of this fine, practical character. You so believe in God that you present the promise, obtain the blessing, and go about your Master's business.

Promises like checks.

If you had in your house a number of checks which you believed to be good, I do not suppose that you would long be unaware of their nature and value. No merchant here would say "I have a number of bills, and drafts, and checks at home somewhere: I have no doubt that they are all good, and that they are my lawful property; but I do not know much about them. Their value is quite unknown to me." Such ignorance would argue insanity. Will you know your earthly wealth, and never consider your heavenly riches? In the Bible there are "exceeding great and precious promises"; shall it be said that some of God's children do not know what those promises contain? They have read them, perhaps, but they have never really searched into their meaning to see what God has promised.

Promises—Personal. When a man sees a garment. left at his door which fits him exactly, and is evidently cut to suit certain peculiarities of his form, he concludes that the garment was meant for him Even so, in many a promise, I see certain private marks which are the exact counterparts of the secrets of my soul, and these show that God meant me when thus and thus He spoke.

Promises—Precious.

If you go into the market and are likely to do a ready money business, you always take a check book with you; so carry precious promises with you, that may plead the word which suits your case. I have turned to promises for the sick, when I have been of that number, or to promises for the poor, the despondent, the weary, and such like, according to my own condition, and I have always found a Scripture fitted to my own case. I do not want a promise made to the sick when I am perfectly well; I do not want balm for a broken heart when my soul is rejoicing in the Lord; but it is very handy to know where to lay your hand upon suitable words of cheer when necessity arises. Thus the eternal comfort of the Christian is the Word of God.

Promises—to be tried.

Dost thou think God makes shams like some who have made belts for swimming, which were good to exhibit in a shop, but of no use in the sea? We have all heard of swords which were useless in war; and even of shoes which were made to sell, but were never made to walk in. God's shoes are of iron and brass, and you can walk to heaven in them without their ever wearing out: and His life belts, you may swim a thousand Atlantics upon them, and there will be no fear of your sinking. His word of promise is meant to be tried and proved.

Promises—to be used. The other day a poor woman had a little help sent to her, by a friend, in a letter. She was in great distress, and she went to that very friend begging for a few shillings. "Why," said the other, "I sent you money yesterday, by an order in a letter!" "Dear, dear!" said the poor woman, "that must be the letter which I put behind the looking glass!" Just so; and there are lots of people who put God's letters behind the looking-glass, and fail to make use of the promise which is meant for them.

Promises—Unused.

I fear that many of God's promises are seldom used. They are like the whitesmith's bunch of keys. Why are they so rusty? Because they are not in constant use They have not been turned in the lock, day by day, or they would be bright enough.

Prosperity.

Happy is that man who in prosperity can hear the voice of God in the tinkling of the sheep bells of his abundant flocks, can hear Him in the lowing of the oxen which cover his fields, and in the loving voices of dear children around him. But, mark you! prosperity is a painted window which shuts out much of the clear light of God, and only when the blue, and the crimson, and the golden tinge are removed, is the glass restored to its full transparency. Adversity thus takes away tinge, and color, and dimness, and we see our God far better than before, if our eyes are prepared for the light.

Prosperity.

Mr. Jay was never more pleased than when at Bristol he had a note sent up to him which ran as follows:—"A young man, who is prospering in business, begs the prayers of God's people that prosperity may not be a snare to him." Take care that you look thus upon your prosperity. My dear friend, Dr. Taylor, of New York, speaks of some Christians nowadays as having a "butterfly Christianity." When time, and strength, and thought, and talent are all spent upon mere amusement, what else are men and women but mere butterflies? "Society" is just a mass of idle people, keeping each other in countenance.

Prove all things.

"Oh," says a man "but you must prove all things." Yes, bo I will; but if one should set a joint of meat on his table, and it smell rather high, I would cut a slice, and if I put one bit of it in my mouth, and found it far gone, I should not feel it necessary to eat the whole round of beef to test its sweetness. Some people seem to think that they must read a bad book through; and they must go and hear a bad preacher often before they can be sure of his quality. Why, you can judge many teachings in five minutes. You say to yourself, "No, sir, no, no, no, this is good meat—for dogs. Let them have it, but it is not good meat for me, and I do not intend to poison myself with it."

Providences.

God's ways are at times like heavy wagon-tracks, and they cut deep into our souls; yet they are all of them mercy. Whether our days trip along like the angels mounting on Jacob's ladder to heaven, or grind along like the wagons which Joseph sent for Jacob, they are in each case ordered in mercy. I stand by the happy memories of a tried past, as in summer weather I walk down a green lane; and as I look at the deep ruts which God's providence made long ago, I see flowers of mercy growing in them. All the crushing and the crashing was in goodness. Surely goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life. Yes, "all the days of my life," the dark and the cloudy, the stormy and the wintry, as surely as in "the days of heaven upon the earth." Brethren, we may sing a song of unmingled mercy. The paths of God have been to us nothing else but mercy. Mercy, mercy, mercy, "I will sing of the mercies of the Lord forever."

Providence—Special. When Master Bunyan was a lad, he was so foolhardy that, when an adder rose against him, he took it in his hand, and plucked the sting out of its mouth, but he was not harmed. It was his turn to stand sentinel at the siege of Nottingham, and as he was going forth, another man offered to take his place. That man was shot, and Master Bunyan thus escaped. We should have had no "Pilgrim's Progress" if it had not been for that. Did not God preserve him on purpose that he might be saved? There are special interpositions of divine providence, by which God spares ungodly men, whom He might have cut down long ago as cumberers of the ground: should we not look upon these as having the intention that the barren tree may be cared for yet another year, if haply it may bring forth fruit?

Puritan and Cavalier.

Sin and error have so much the upper hand that we know not how to strike them. The two great parties in England, the Puritan and the Cavalier, take turn about, and just now the Cavalier rules most powerfully. At one time sound doctrine and holy practice had sway; but in these days loose teaching and loose living are to the fore. But our duty clearly lies in sticking to the Word of the Lord and the gospel of our fathers. God forbid that we should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ! By this sign we shall conquer yet.

Putting on the Lord Jesus.

I have read of a great man who took two hours and a half to dress himself every morning. In this he showed littleness rather than greatness; but if any of you put on the Lord Jesus Christ, you may take what time you like over the toilet. It will take you all your lives, brothers and sisters, fully to put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and to keep Him on.

Peace and rest are two names for a flower which buds on earth, but is only found full blown in heaven.

Periodical godliness is perpetual hypocrisy.

Personal experience is more convincing than observation.

Pleasures which block the road to heaven ought to be given up.

Praise makes the happy man the strong man.

Pray down the sermon, and then pray up the sermon.

Prayer can never be in excess.

Prayer is the promise utilized.

Prayer is the thermometer of grace.

Preach the cross, and plead the blood.

Providence is God's business.

Prudence prays with Moses, while it fights for Joshua.