G Arrows

G Giving—Hearty.

I recollect when I was able to journey through the country preaching, I, for several years, stayed occasionally with a fine old English farmer. He used to have a piece of beef upon the table; I do not know how many pounds it weighed, but it was enormous, and I said to him one day, "Why is it that whenever I come here you have such immense joints? Do you think that I can eat like a giant? If so, it is a great mistake. Look at that joint, there," I said, "if I were to take it home, it might last me a month." "Well," he said, "if I could get a bigger bit I would, for I am so glad to see you; and if you could eat it all, you should be heartily welcome. I want everybody who comes here today to feel that I will do my very best for you." He did not measure my necessities to the half ounce, but he provided on a lavish scale. I quote this homely instance of giving heartily, to show you how, on a divine scale, the Lord makes ready for His guests.

Giving—manner of.

There is a way of turning a penny into stone or into gold, according to the way in which you give it to a poor man. You can fling it at him as if he were a dog, and he will be about as grateful to you as a dog, or not so much. But there is a way in which you can say, "I am sorry for your needs; this is all I can afford you now. Take it and do what you can with it." Given with a brotherly look, it will be gratefully received, and made the most of. There is much in the manner, as well as in the matter of the gift. The mannerism of Christ is grandly gracious: He saves us rejoicingly.

Gladness.

You have heard machinery at times complaining wretchedly; it has gone on with horrible gratings and creakings. It has set your teeth on edge. Fetch the oil can! We must cure this jarring. Every now and then we need a few drops of the oil of gladness to make the wheels of our work move pleasantly. Men of the world teach us the value of joyous song. How readily the anchor rises when the sailors unite in cheery cries! Soldiers when weary on the march find their spirits revived when the band strikes up a stirring tune. Let it be so today. I would have you praise God with the sound of the trumpet. Let the children of Zion be joyful in their King.

Glory in humility. When Sapor, the great Persian, jested with a Jew about his Messiah riding upon an ass, he said to him, "I will send Him one of my horses "; to which the Rabbi replied, "You cannot send Him a horse that will be good enough, for that ass is to be of a hundred colors." By that idle tradition the Rabbi showed that he had not caught the idea of the prophet at all, since he could not believe in Messiah's lowliness displayed by his riding upon a common ass. The Rabbinical mind must needs make simplicity mysterious, and turn lowliness into another form of pomp. The very pith of the matter is that our Lord gave Himself no grand airs, but was natural, unaffected, and free from all vainglory. His greatest pomp went no further than riding through Jerusalem upon a colt, the foal of an ass. The Mohammedan turns round with a sneer, and says to the Christian, "Your Master was the rider of an ass; our Mohammed was a rider of a camel; and the camel is by far the superior beast." Just so; and that is where the Mohammedan fails to grasp the prophetic thought: he looks for strength and honor, but Jesus triumphs by weakness and lowliness. How little glory is to be found in the grandeur and display which princes of this world affect! There is far more true glory in condescension than in display.

Glory of the Lord. Have you never heard how the Laplanders climb the hills when the sun is at last about to appear after the weary winter months? How they rejoice in the first beams of the rising sun? So let us rise to lofty meditation, and look to our Lord and Master till we perceive His mediatorial glory, and are blessed thereby. Have you no time?

Give up your newspaper for a week that you may sanctify the time to the noble end of considering the glory of your Lord; and I will warrant that you shall get a thousand times more out of such thought than from skimming the daily journal. Look unto Jesus, and the light within will grow like the glory of heaven.

God everywhere.

I remember once visiting a poor Christian in the hospital, who had often attended my ministry, and he said, "Why, sir, you have given us so many illustrations, that, as I lie in bed, everything I see, or hear, or read of, brings to mind something in your sermons." How much more true is this of our Great Teacher: we are glad that he has hung up the Gospel everywhere, till every dewdrop reflects Him, and every wind whispers His name. Day and night talk to each other of Him, and the hours commune concerning things to come.

God first—means second.

We often stop at the means, and begin to calculate their natural force, and thus we miss our mark. The point is to get beyond the instruments to the God who uses the instruments. I think that I have heard that a tallow candle fired from a rifle will go through a door: the penetrating power is not in the candle, but in the force impelling it. So in this case it was not the barley biscuit, but the almighty impulse, which urged it forward, and made it upset the pavilion. We are nothing; but God with us is everything. "He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength."

God lives.

While God lives, truth is in the ascendant. I remember years ago meeting with that blessed servant of God, the late Earl of Shaftesbury. He was at Mentone with a dying daughter, and he happened that day to be very much downcast—as, indeed, I have frequently seen him, and as, I am sorry to confess, he has also frequently seen me. That day he was particularly cast down about the general state of society. He thought that the powers of darkness in this country were having it all their own way, and that, before long, the worst elements of society would gain power, and trample out all virtue. Looking up into his face, I said to him, "And is God dead? Do you believe that while God lives the devil will conquer Him?" He smiled, and we walked along by the Mediterranean communing together in a far more hopeful tone. The Lord liveth and blessed be my Rock. As long as the Lord liveth our hope lives also. Gospel truth will yet prevail; we shall live to see the old faith to the front again. The church, like Noah's dove, will come back to her rest again, and bring somewhat with her which shall prophesy eternal peace.

"God make me new."

I think it was Charles the First who used to swear, "God mend me." Somebody said it would be an easier job to make a new one of him, and I believe it. When men say "God mend, me," they had better say, "God make me new."

God never weary.

I had a dear friend, whose company I esteemed, but on a sudden he did not come to see me. He stayed away; and as I knew he had not ceased to love me, I wondered why. At last I found that the good brother had taken it into his head that he might outrun his welcome. He had read those words of Solomon, "Withdraw thy foot from thy neighbor's house; lest he be weary of thee, and so hate thee." I admired my friend's prudence, but I labored hard to make him see that Solomon knew nothing of me, and that I was more wearied when he stopped away than when he came. I hope he made me an exception to a very sensible rule. But never get that thought into your head concerning your God. Will you weary my God also? You may weary Him by restraining prayer, but never by abounding in supplication. Abide with your God, and cry to Him day and night, and let this be the music of your whole life, "whereunto I may continually resort."

God or gold.

Apparent zeal for God may really be zeal for gold. The Emperor Maximilian showed great zeal against idolatry, and published a decree that gold and silver images should be melted down. He was extremely zealous about this. The images were all to be melted down, and the metal forfeited to the Emperor. It was shrewdly suspected that this great iconoclast was not altogether swayed by unselfish motives. When a business brings grist to the mill it is not hard to keep to it. Some love Christ because they carry His bag for Him.

God's delight in us. A little babe, if it had wit, and could look at itself, would say, "How inferior I am to my father! What feeble hands! What tottering feet! I am a poor, puny, dependent creature." Yes, but that is not the way in which the mother thinks of it. She spies out a loveliness in the weakness, and a beauty in the littleness of her babe. She looks at it until her eyes swim with tears lest anything should harm it. She thinks it the most beautiful thing that ever was, and doubtless it is so to her. Our God has all the instincts of motherhood and fatherhood blended in one; and when He looks upon His church He calls her "Hephzibah"—"My delight is in her." I read, not that He delights in the works of Nature alone, but He rejoices in the habitable parts of the earth. He does not rejoice in the works of His hands so much as in the works of His heart. The whole Godhead is at home in blessing those whom everlasting love has ordained to everlasting life.

God's help in daily life.

I am reminded of Havelock and his saints in the Indian Mutiny. There was a stern fight to be fought, and the general said, "Send for Havelock and his saints," and they soon accomplished the task. When you get men who thoroughly serve Christ in whatever position of life they are, they are terrible fellows. They will do the thing where others will only talk about it. For God does help, in the ordinary concerns of daily life, those who put their trust in Him.

God's watchmen—Christians. In times of war, every fortified city had upon its walls certain watchmen, so as to see eye to eye; that is to say, the eye of one sentinel reached to the eye of another, and so they encompassed the city round about. Whoever passed that way by day or night, they challenged him; and if he turned out to be a foe, they gave an alarm, and straightway men at arms came forth from the guard-room, and the city was protected against a surprise. God's people, and especially the stronger, the more instructed, and the most experienced of them, should act as watchmen on the walls, for Christ's sake.

God's Watchmen—Ministers.

We are not set to keep the Church of God by day only, but amid the dews and frosts of the darkest night are we to maintain our watch. Christians are to be sentries who will not retreat into the barrack-room because of the cold, nor quit the rampart because of the heat. At night, watchmen are most required. We are to be instant in season; giving the password at each different time when the watch reports itself, and thus, never holding our peace day or night. We are to be instant out of season, for at such times the enemy is most likely to come. God's watchmen are not taken on by the hour, to watch by turns; but they are bound to be, throughout life, watchers for souls. We are never off duty. We take a day and night shift. Our rest is in the Lord's service; our creation is in change of occupation.

God's word—to be believed.

Locke, the great philosopher, spent the last fourteen years of his life in the study of the Bible, and when asked what was the shortest way for a young gentleman to understand the Christian religion, he bade him read the Bible, remarking: "Therein are contained the words of eternal life. It has God for its author, salvation for its end, and truth, without any admixture of error, for its matter." There are those on the side of God's Word whom you need not be ashamed of in the matter of intelligence and learning; and if it were not so, it should not discourage you, when you remember that the Lord has hid these things from the wise and prudent and has revealed them unto babes. We believe with the apostle that "the foolishness of God is wiser than men." It is better to believe what comes out of God's mouth, and be called a fool, than to believe what comes out of the mouth of philosophers, and be, therefore, esteemed a wise man.

God with His saints. As the heavens stand unshored and unsupported, save by the Word of God, so stands the man of God. Remember how Luther realized this; and when they said that Duke George would oppose him, he said, "If it rained Duke Georges, I would not care, so long as I have God with me."

"Fear Him, ye saints, and you will then Have nothing else to fear;

Make you His service your delight, He'll make your wants His care."

Good news. The first missionaries to Greenland thought that the natives were too debased to understand at once the doctrine of atonement, therefore they began to tell them of the existence of a God, and so on. No effect was produced by such stale information; but when translating the chapter of John in which the passage occurs, "God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life," a Greenlander said, "Is that true?" And when the missionary affirmed that it was, "Why, then," said he, "did you not tell us that at first, for that is good news indeed?"

Good soldiers.

Two things are wanted in a good soldier—steadiness under fire, and enthusiasm during a charge. The first is the more essential in most battles, for victory often depends upon the power of endurance which makes a battalion of men into a wall of brass. We want the dashing courage which can carry a position by storm—that will be used up in the second characteristic—"Always abounding in the work of the Lord."

Gospel—a gun. The gospel is our Mons Meg, the biggest gun in the castle; but it is not out of date: it will carry a ball far enough to reach the heart of the sinner who is furthest from God. Satan trembles when he hears the roar of the gospel gun. Let it never be silent.

Gospel an offence to enemies. A great general going in before his king stumbled over his sword. "I see," said the king, "your sword is in the way." The warrior answered, "Your Majesty's enemies have often felt the same." That our gospel offends the King's enemies is no regret to us."

Gospel—a trumpet.

It chanced one evening when there was a large gathering of friends at the Orphanage, that" our boys were sweetly discoursing a hymn tune upon their bells, the American organ was being played as an accompaniment, and all the gathered company were singing at their best, making a rushing flood of music. Just then I hinted to our friend, Mr. Manton Smith, to put in a few notes from his silver cornet; and when he placed it to his lips, and threw his soul into it, the lone man was heard above us all. Bells, organ, voices, everything seemed to yield before that one clear blast of trumpet music. So will it be to the gospel. Only sound it out as God's own word, and let the power of the Holy Ghost go with it, and it will drown all music but its own.

Gospel heard in vain. Did you ever go to a physician? Did you ever wait for an hour or two before you could see the great man? Did you give him your guinea? Did he hand you a prescription? Tell me, did you leave it on the table? Did you fold it up carefully and put it in your pocket? Did you keep it there? Did you not have the medicine made up? Did you not take it? Suppose that in a month's time some one were to say, "Did you see the doctor?" "Yes, I went to see him." "Did you have a prescription?" "He gave me a bit of paper with some writing on it, but I do not know what it was, for I cannot read Latin." "You do not mean to say you have not had it made up at the chemist's?" "No," you say, "I was satisfied with seeing the doctor." Dear friends, you smile at this description of folly; for it is such gross unwisdom. Be wise, then; do not hear the gospel in vain by neglecting God's demands. If you know how to be saved, obey the command.

Gospel—Hearing the.

Remember Hugh Latimer's quaint story when he urged all his hearers to go and hear the gospel. He even praised that sleepless woman who had been taking sleeping medicine, but found that there was no drug strong enough to make her sleep, till at last she said "If you would take me to the parish church I know that I could go to sleep; for I have slept there every Sunday for many years." She was taken to that place of rest, and was soon at peace. "Well, well," said Latimer, "she had better come for sleep than not come at all." And so I say: even if you come here to sleep, the Lord may rouse you to seek and find the Savior.

Gospel—necessary to be plain. When a city is to be stored for a siege, it will be well for those who attend to the commissariat to lay in a proportion of everything that is necessary for human comfort, and even a measure of certain luxuries; but it will be of first importance to bring in large quantities of corn. The necessaries of life must be the chief provision. These we place in, storehouses by tons, whereas in other articles, pounds may suffice. If there be a failure of bread, what will the people do? For this reason I feel I must preach over and over again the plain gospel of salvation by grace, through faith in Christ Jesus.

Gospel—no monopolizing the.

I have heard say that in the old Bread Riots, when men were actually starving for bread, no word had such a terribly threatening and alarming power about it as the word "Bread!" when shouted by a starving crowd. I have read a description by one who once heard this cry: he said he had been startled at night by a cry of "Fire!" but when he heard the cry of "Bread!" "Bread!" from those who were hungry, it seemed to cut him like a sword. Whatever bread had been in his possession he must at once have handed it out. So it is with the gospel; when men are once aware of their need of it, there is no monopolizing it.

Gospel—plain. A man said, about something he wished to make clear, "Why, it is as plain as A B C!" "Yes," said a third party, "but the man you are talking to is D E F." So some of our hearers seem to turn away from the Word of God. Let us explain the gospel as we may, if there is no desire in the heart, our plainest messages are lost.

Gospel—poor man's. The longer I live, the more I bless God that we have not received a classical gospel, or a mathematical gospel, or a metaphysical gospel; it is not a gospel confined to scholars and men of genius, but a poor man's gospel, a ploughman's gospel; for that is the kind of gospel which we can live upon and die upon. It is to us not the luxury of refinement, but the staple food of life. We want no fine words when the heart is heavy, neither do we need deep problems when we are lying upon the verge of eternity, weak in body and tempted in mind. At such times we magnify the blessed simplicity of the gospel. Jesus in the flesh made manifest becomes our soul's bread. Jesus bleeding on the cross, a substitute for sinners, is our soul's drink. This is the gospel for babes, and strong men want no more.

Gospel—The.

God will save by the gospel still: only let it be the gospel in its purity. This grand old sword will cleave a man's chine, and split a rock in halves. How is it that it does so little of its old conquering work? I will tell you. Do you see this scabbard of artistic work, so wonderfully elaborated? Full many keep the sword in this scabbard, and therefore its edge never gets to its work. Pull off that scabbard. Fling that fine sheath to Hades, and then see how, in the Lord's hands, that glorious two handed sword will mow down fields of men as mowers level the grass with their scythes. There is no need to go down to Egypt for help. To invite the devil to help Christ is shameful. Please God, we shall see prosperity yet, when the church of God is resolved never to seek it except in God's own way.

Gospel—The.

I sat yesterday with two tubes in my ears to listen to sounds that came from revolving cylinders of wax. I heard music, though I knew that no instrument was near. It was music which had been caught up months before, and now was ringing out as clearly and distinctly in my ears as it could have done had I been present at its first sound. I heard Mr. Edison speak: he repeated a childish ditty; and when he had finished he called upon his friends to repeat it with him; and I heard many American voices joining in that repetition. That wax cylinder was present when these sounds were made, and now it talked it all out in my ear. Then I heard Mr. Edison at work in his laboratory: he was driving nails, and working on metal, and doing all sorts of things, and calling for this and that with that American tone which made one know his nationality. I sat and listened, and I felt lost in the mystery. But what of all this? What can these instruments convey to us? But oh, to sit and listen to the gospel when your ears are really opened! Then you hear God Himself at work; you hear Jesus speak; you hear His voice in suffering and in glory, and you rise up and say, "I never thought to have heard such strange things! Where have I been to be so long deaf to this? How could I neglect a gospel in which are locked up such wondrous treasures of wisdom and knowledge, such measureless depths of love and grace?" In the gospel of the Lord Jesus, God speaks into the ear of His child more music than all the harps of heaven can yield.

Gospel—The, and its simplicity despised. Did you ever read Culpepper's "Herbal?" I hope you have never taken any of the physic which that learned herbalist prescribes. In one mess you will find a dozen articles, each one of them monstrous, and in many a prescription you will find a score or more of herbs most curiously compounded. Such were the prescriptions of still earlier times. If they did no good, they did at least bewilder the patient. And now today what is the new gospel that is proposed to us? It is the gospel of "culture." Culture! This, of course, is the monopoly of our superiors. It is only to be enjoyed by very refined persons, who have been to college, and who carry inside of them a whole university, library and all. The gospel, which is made to be plain enough for wayfaring men, is for that reason despised. That Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners is too commonplace a teaching. That He bare our sins in His own body on the tree is rejected as an outrageous dogma, unfit for this intelligent age!

Gospel—The simple.

I was struck with what one said the other day of a certain preacher. The hearer was in deep concern of soul, and the minister preached a very pretty sermon indeed, decorated abundantly with word painting. I scarcely know any brother who can paint so daintily as this good minister can; but this poor soul, under a sense of sin, said, "There was too much landscape, sir. I did not want landscape; I wanted salvation." Dear friend, never crave word-painting when you attend a sermon; but crave Christ. You must have Christ to be your own by faith, or you are a lost man. When I was seeking the Savior I remember hearing a very good doctrinal sermon; but when it was over I longed to tell the minister that there was a poor lad there who wanted to know how he could be saved. How I wished he had given half a minute to that subject! Dr. Manton, who was usually a clear and full preacher of the gospel, when he preached before the Lord Mayor, gave his lordship something a cut above the common citizens, and so the poorer folk missed their portion. After he had done preaching his sermon, an aged woman cried, "Dr. Manton, I came here this morning under concern of soul, wanting a blessing, and I have not got it, for I could not understand you." The preacher meekly replied, "The Lord forgive me! I will not so offend again." He had overlooked the poor, and had thought mainly of my Lord Mayor. Special sermons before mayors, and queens, and assemblies are seldom worth a penny a thousand.

Gospel—weary of the.

I have heard of a flower girl who sold violets in the street, and had to take those that remained home to her poor, miserable room, every night, till she said that she hated the smell of violets: she could not bear them, having got so accustomed to them. "That is strange," says one; yet that is how some of our gospel hearers speak. I dread above anything that your nostrils should become so familiar with the sweet smell of the Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley, that their fragrance should become nauseous to you.

"Got it."

If thou canst believe, thou art saved. I cannot help quoting my brother Hill's expression the other day: "He that believeth on me hath everlasting life" (John vi. 47). You know how he put it: "HATH spells got it." So it does; it is a curious but a perfectly correct way of spelling it. If you take Christ to yourself, He will never be taken from you. Breathe the air, and the air is yours; receive Christ, and Christ is yours, and you have attained to righteousness.

Grace apparent in action. As one of the old Puritans used to say, our graces are not apparent unless they are in exercise. You walk through a preserve, and there may be partridges and pheasants and hares all round you. You will not see them till one flies out of his hiding, or a hare starts before you. You see them in motion, but while they are quiet in the copse, you did not observe them. So may love to Christ and all Christian virtues lie concealed till they are called into action.

Grace at work.

If you had an old house, and any friend of yours were to say, "John, I will build you a new house. When shall I begin?" "Oh!" you might say, "begin next week to build the new house." At the end of the week he has pulled half your old house down. "Oh," say you, "this is what you call building me a new house, is it? You are causing me great loss: I wish I had never consented to your proposal." He replies, "You are most unreasonable: how am I to build you a new house on this spot without taking the old one down?" And so it often happens that the grace of God does seem in its first work to make a man even worse than he was before, because it discovers to him sins which he did not know to be there, evils which had been concealed, dangers never dreamed of.'

Grace—Doctrines of. When I read some sermons they remind me of a piece of common by the roadside, after a hungry horde of sheep have devoured every green thing; but when I read a solid gospel sermon of the Puritans, it reminds me of a field kept for hay, which a farmer is at last obliged to give up to the sheep. The grass has grown almost as high as themselves, and so they lie down in it, eating and resting too. Give me the doctrines of grace, and I am in clover.

Grace finds men.

Many are like that Indian who, passing up the mountain side pursuing game, grasped a shrub to prevent his slipping, and as its roots gave way they uncovered masses of pure silver, and thus the richest silver mine was discovered by a happy accident by one who looked not for it. These Gentiles discovered in Christ the righteousness which they needed, but which they had never dreamed of finding. This reminds us of our Lord's own parable: the man was ploughing with oxen, and on a sudden the ploughshare struck upon an unusual obstacle. He stopped the plough and turned up the soil, and lo! he found a crock of gold! This "treasure hid in a field" at once won his heart, and for joy thereof he sold all that he had, and bought the field. Grace finds men who else would never have found grace.

Grace glides into glory.

Often travellers by railway ask, "When do we pass from England into Scotland?" There is no jerk in the movements of the train; no broad boundary; you glide from one to the other, and scarce know where the boundary is. The eternal life that is in the believer glides along from grace to glory without a break.

Gratitude. The ancients had many rare stories of the gratitude of wild beasts. You remember that of Androcles and the lion. The man was condemned to be torn to pieces by wild beasts; but a lion, to which he was cast, instead of devouring him, licked his feet, because at some former time Androcles had extracted a thorn from the grateful creature's foot. We have heard of an eagle who so loved a boy with whom he had played, that, when the child was sick the eagle sickened, too; and when the child slept, this strange bird slept; and when the child awoke, the eagle awoke. When the child died, the bird died too. You remember that there is a picture in which Napoleon is represented as riding over the battlefield, and he stops his horse as he sees a slain man with his favorite dog lying upon his bosom, to do what he can to defend his dead master. Even the great manslayer paused at such a sight. There is gratitude amongst the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air. And surely if we receive favors from God, and do not feel to love Him in return, we are worse than brute beasts; and so, the Lord, in that pathetic verse in Isaiah, pleads against us: "The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib; but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider." If we receive favors from God, it is but natural we should return them.

Gratitude—cheerful.

I have sometimes admired a dog for his economical use of comforts. When it has been a long rainy day, the sun has just popped out, and there has been a gleam of sunlight on the floor; I have seen him get up and wag his tail, and shift his quarters, so as to lie down where the bit of sunshine was. It is a fine thing to have just that state of mind never to go sullenly into the shadow, but always go cheerfully to accept the square yard of sunshine, and make the most of it. There is something, after all, to be thankful for, something for which to praise the name of God.

Gratitude in heaven.

I sometimes tell the story of what happened to me, when I declared, in a sermon, that, in the heaven of the grateful, I would sing the loudest of them all, because I owed more to the grace of God than anybody else. I meant it not out of any sense of superiority, but rather inferiority. One good old soul, when I came down the pulpit stairs, said to me, "You have made a great mistake in your sermon." I answered, "No doubt I made a dozen." "Nay, but," she said, "the great mistake was this: you said you owed more to God than anybody else, but you do not owe anything like so much as I do. I have had more grace from Him than you have. I have been a bigger sinner than ever you were. I shall sing the loudest." "Well, well," I thought, "I will not quarrel with her; it shall make me the more glad to find I am outdone." I found that all the Christians were much of the same mind. Brethren, we will have it out when we get up yonder. But you shall praise God indeed, if you praise Him more than I will; and you must be double debtors to the Lord if you owe Him more than than I do.

Greed of gain.

I have distinctly seen a man become "the architect of his own fortune," and the destroyer of himself. He has built up a palatial estate upon the ruins of his own manhood. It is a pity when a man bricks himself up with his growing gains. See you that hole in the wall? The man stands in it and greedily cries for bricks and mortar. Golden bricks and silver mortar, he must have. They bring him the materials. He cries eagerly for more. He cannot be content until he builds himself in. The wall which shuts him out from his fellow men, and from the light of peace and true joy, rises higher and higher, month by month, and year by year. His sympathies and charities are bricked up, for the wall is more than breast high. Still he pines for more metallic material. At last he is built in, buried be-neath his own gatherings, lost to all manhood through his accumulations. You see his house; you see his carriages and his horses; you see his broadcloth and his broad acres; but you cannot see the man. Heart, soul, aspiration, spirituality, it is all gone, and nothing remains but a vault of greed and care, to be itself buried beneath a monument bearing these words, "He died worth half a million."

Growth in Grace. At first we give little children such food as will be easily assimilated; they have nothing else but milk. By and by hard crusts are given them, for there are wisdom teeth to be cut. Suppose when we give them more solid food, they began crying out for the milk again, should we give it them? The Lord does not wish you always to be babes, He would have you grow into men in Christ Jesus; and though Christ is always your food whether He comes to you as milk or as meat, yet still He will not always be milk to you lest you should remain a babe. He means to be meat to you, that your senses may be exercised, that you may be able to understand the stronger and deeper truths of the Kingdom of God.

Growth in grace.

I have had the portraits of my two boys taken on their birthdays, from the first birthday till they were twenty one. The first year the little fellows are sitting, two of them in one perambulator. At twenty one they are doing nothing of the sort: they are men full grown. Yet I can trace them all along, from the time when they were babes, till they became little boys, and then youths, and then young men. I should not have been pleased to have seen them wheeled about in the perambulator for twenty one years. So I do not want to have any of you remaining in spiritual infancy: we long to see you come to the fulness of the stature of perfect men in Christ Jesus.

Growth in grace. The other day there landed on the shores of France a boatful of people sodden with rain and salt-water; they had lost all their luggage, and had nothing but what they stood upright in: they were glad, indeed, to have been saved from a wreck. It was well that they landed at all; but when it is my lot again to cross to France, I trust I shall put my foot on shore in a better plight than that. I would prefer to cross the Channel in comfort, and land with pleasure. There is all this difference between being "saved so as by fire," and having "an abundant entrance ministered unto us" into the kingdom. Let us enjoy heaven on the road to heaven. Why not? Instead of being fished up as castaways, stranded upon the shores of mercy, let us take our passage on board the well-appointed liner of Free Grace; let us, if possible, go in the first cabin, enjoying all the comforts of the way, and having fellowship with the great Captain of our Salvation. Why should we think it enough to be mere stowaways? I would stir you up, dear friends, at this time, to aspire after the best gifts. Grow in grace. Increase in love to God, and in nearness of access to Him, that the Lord may at this good hour stoop down to us as our great Friend, and then lift us up to be known as His friends.

Growth in grace.

Every man among us has to wear out at least one pair of green slippers; and when he has worn them out, then he puts on something better by way of travelling gear, and has his feet "shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace." We generally begin with a fool's boots at first, but God, who makes the foolish wise, makes men of us at length.

Growth in grace.

Most of us recollect our childish mirth when we began to wear garments, which we thought would make us look like men. When I first wore boots, and walked through the stubble with my big uncle, I felt that I was somebody. That, of course, was childish pride; but it has its commendable analogy in the pleasure of gathering spiritual strength, and becoming equal to higher labors and deeper experiences. When you find you do not lose your temper under provocation as you did a year ago, you are humbly thankful. When an evil lust is driven away, and no longer haunts you, you are quietly joyful, rejoicing with trembling. When you have sustained a trial which once would have crushed you, the victory is exceedingly sweet. Every advance in holiness is an advance in secret happiness.

Guidance—divine.

There is a story told of a certain friend who one night was influenced to take his horse from the stable and ride some six or seven miles to a certain house where lived a person whom he had never seen. He arrived at the dead of night, knocked at the door, and was answered by the master of the house, who seemed to be in great confusion of mind. The midnight visitor said, "Friend, I have been sent to thee. I know not why, but surely the Lord has some reason for having sent me to thee. Is there anything peculiar about thy circumstances?" The man, struck with amazement, asked him to come upstairs, and there showed him a halter tied to a beam. He was putting the rope about his neck to commit suicide when a knock sounded at the door. He resolved that he would go down and answer the call and then return to destroy himself ; but the friend whom God had sent talked to him and helped him, and the man lived to be an honorable Christian man.

Get right within, and you will be right without.

God blesses us many times every time he blesses us.

God can use inferior persons for grand purposes. God gives small creatures great delight.

God has no thunderbolts for those who hate their sins.

Godliness is not a rack nor a thumbscrew.

Godly people are thoughtful people. Indeed, it is often a sign of the beginning of grace in a man when he begins to consider.

Good delayed is evil indulged.

Good works are not to be an amusement, but a vocation.

Grace baptizes us into blessedness. Grace does not exempt us from activity.

Grace makes the servant of God to be in the highest sense a true gentleman.

Grace personally received must be personally acknowledged.

Great birds seldom have the gift of song.

Grief has small regard for the laws of the grammarian.