"G" Feathers
GENEROUS FEELING—towards Brethren
"One incident gives high proof of the native generosity of Turner's nature. He was one of the hanging committee, as the phrase goes, of the Royal Academy. The walls were full when Turner's attention was attracted by a picture sent in by an unknown provincial artist by the name of Bird. 'A good picture,' he exclaimed. 'It must be hung up and exhibited.' 'Impossible!' responded the committee of academicians. 'The arrangement cannot be disturbed. Quite impossible!' 'A good picture,' iterated Turner, 'it must be hung up;' and, finding his colleagues to be as obstinate as himself, he hitched down one of his own pictures, and hung up Bird's in its place." Would to God that in far more instances the like spirit ruled among servants of the Lord Jesus. The desire to honour others and to give others a fair opportunity to rise should lead ministers of distinction to give place to less eminent men to whom it may be of essential service to become better known. We are not to look every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.
GIVING A woman who was known to be very poor, came to a missionary meeting in Wakefield, and offered to subscribe a penny a-week to the mission fund. "Surely," said one, "you are too poor to afford this?" She replied, "I spin so many hanks of yarn a-week for my living, and I'll spin one hank more, and that will-be a penny a-week for the society."
GOD—Acting as a Father A king is sitting with his council deliberating on high affairs of state involving the destiny of nations, when suddenly he hears the sorrowful cry of his little child who has fallen down, or been frightened by a wasp; he rises and runs to his relief, assuages his sorrows and relieves his fears. Is there anything unkingly here? Is it not most natural? Does it not even elevate the monarch in your esteem? Why then do we think it dishonourable to the King of kings, our heavenly Father, to consider the small matters of his children? It is infinitely condescending, but is it not also superlatively natural that being a Father he should act as such?
GOD—his Benevolence in Creation The benevolence of our great Creator is chanted even by things unpleasant to the ear. "The nuptial song of reptiles," says Kirby, "is not, like that of birds, the delight of every heart; but it is rather calculated to disturb and horrify than to still the soul. The hiss of serpents, the croaking of frogs and toads, the moaning of turtles, the bellowing of crocodiles and alligators, form their gamut of discords." Here, also, we may read beneficent design. Birds are the companions of man in the lawn and forest, in his solitary walks, amidst his rural labours, and around the home of his domestic enjoyments. They are, therefore, framed beautiful to the eye, and pleasing to the ear; but of the reptile tribes, some are his formidable enemies, and none were ever intended to be his associates. They shun cultivation, and inhabit unfrequented marshes or gloomy wilds. Their harsh notes and ungainly or disgusting forms, serve therefore to warn him of danger, or to turn his steps to places more fit for his habitation.—H. Duncan's Sacred Philosophy of the Seasons.
GOD—is Light
Suppose the case of a cripple who had spent his life in a room where the sun was never seen. He has heard of its existence, he believes in it, and indeed, has seen enough of its light to give him high ideas of its glory. Wishing to see the sun, he is taken out at night into the streets of an illuminated city. At first he is delighted, dazzled; but after he has had time to reflect, he finds darkness spread amid the lights, and he asks, "Is this the sun?" He is taken out under the starry sky, and is enraptured; but, on reflection, finds that night covers the earth, and again asks, "Is this the sun?" He is carried out some bright day at noontide, and no sooner does his eye open on the sky than all question is at an end. There is but one sun. His eye is content: it has seen its highest object, and feels that there is nothing brighter. So with the soul: it enjoys all lights, yet amid those of art and nature, is still enquiring for something greater. But when it is led by the reconciling Christ into the presence of the Father, and he lifts up upon it the light of his countenance, all thought of anything greater disappears. As there is but one sun, so there is but one God. The soul which once discerns and knows him, feels that greater or brighter there is none, and that the only possibility of ever beholding more glory is by drawing nearer.—Rev. W. Arthur.
GOD—Love of All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away, Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye. The forms of men shall be as they had never been; The blasted groves shall lose their fresh and tender green; The birds of the thicket shall end their pleasant song, And the nightingale shall cease to chant the evening long; The kine of the pasture shall feel the dart that kills, And all the fair white flocks shall perish from the hills; The goat and antlered stag, the wolf and the fox, The wild boar of the wood, and the chamois of the rocks, And the strong and fearless bear, in the trodden dust shall lie; And the dolphin of the sea, and the mighty whale shall die, And realms shall be dissolved, and empires be no more; And they shall bow to death, who ruled from shore to shore; And the great globe itself (so the holy writings tell), With the rolling firmament, where the starry armies dwell, Shall melt with fervent heat—they shall all pass away, Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.
William Cullen Bryant.
GOD—Vague Conceptions of
"One day, in conversation with the Jungo-kritu, head pundit of the College of Fort William, on the subject of God, this man, who is truly learned in his own shastrus, gave me from one of their books, this parable:—'In a certain country there existed a village of blind men. These men had heard that there was an amazing animal called the elephant, but they knew not how to form an idea of his shape. One day an elephant happened to pass through the place: the villagers crowded to the spot where this animal was standing. One of them got hold of his trunk, another seized his car, another his tail, another one of his legs, etc. After thus trying to gratify their curiosity they returned into the village, and sitting down together they began to give their ideas on what the elephant was like; the man who had seized his trunk said he thought the elephant was like the body of the plantain tree; the man who had felt his ear said he thought he was like the fan with which the Hindoos clean the rice; the man who had felt his tail said he thought he must be like a snake, and the man who had seized his leg, thought he must be like a pillar. An old blind man of some judgment was present, who was greatly perplexed how to reconcile these jarring notions, respecting the form of the elephant; but he at length said, "You have all been to examine this animal, it is true, and what you report cannot be false: I suppose, therefore, that that which was like the plaintain tree must be his trunk; that which was like a fan must be his ear; that which was like a snake must be his tail, and that which was like a pillar must be his body." In this way, the old man united all their notions, and made out something of the form of the elephant. Respecting God,' added the pundit, 'we are all blind; none of us has seen him; those who wrote the shastrus, like the old blind man, have collected all the reasonings and conjectures of mankind together, and have endeavoured to form some idea of the nature of the Divine Being.'" The pundit's parable may be appropriately applied to the science of theology. Some Christians see one truth and some another, and each one is quite sure that he has beheld the whole. Where is the master-mind who shall gather up the truth out of each creed, and see the theology of the Bible in its completeness?—a sublimer sight than the believers in the isms have yet been able to imagine.
GODLINESS—No Burden to True Saints THE Princess Elizabeth carried the crown for her sister in the procession at Mary's coronation, and complained to Noailles of its great weight. "Be patient," was the adroit answer, "it will seem lighter when on your own head." The outward forms of godliness are as burdensome to an unregenerate man as was the crown to the princess; but let him be born again and so made a possessor of the good things of divine grace, and they will sit easily enough upon his head, as his glory and delight.
GOLD—Places of its Abundance Undesirable Did the eye ever rest upon a more utter desolation than that which surrounds the gold mines near Goldau in the Hartz mountains? It is worse than a howling wilderness, it is a desert with its bowels torn out, and scattered in horrid confusion. More or less this is true of all gold mining regions, and Humboldt, when writing of the Pearl Coast, says that it presents the same aspect of misery as the countries of gold and diamonds. Is it so then? Are riches so near akin to horror? Lord, let me set my affections on better things, and seek for less dangerous wealth.
GOSPEL—Duty of Spreading it
Huber, the great naturalist, tells us, that if a single wasp discovers a deposit of honey or other food, he will return to his nest, and impart the good news to his companions, who will sally forth in great numbers to partake of the fare which has been discovered for them. Shall we who have found honey in the rock Christ Jesus, be less considerate of our fellow men than wasps are of their fellow insects? Ought we not rather like the Samaritan woman to hasten to tell the good news? Common humanity should prevent one of us from concealing the great discovery which grace has enabled us to make.
GOSPEL—Jesus the Sum of In a village church in one of the Tyrolese valleys, we saw upon the pulpit an outstretched arm, carved in wood, the hand of which held forth a cross. We noted the emblem as full of instruction as to what all true ministry should be, and must be—a holding forth of the cross of Christ to the multitude as the only trust of sinners. Jesus Christ must be set forth evidently crucified among them. Lord, make this the aim and habit of all our ministers.
GOSPEL—needs no Meretricious Adornments When Dionysius, the tyrant, sent Lysander some rich Sicilian garments for his daughters, he refused them, alleging that "He was afraid these fine clothes would make them look more homely." The truth of God is so comely in itself that the trappings of oratory are far more likely to lessen its glory than to increase it. Paul saith that he preached the gospel "not with wisdom of words, lest the cross of Christ should be made of none effect."
GOSPEL—needs Spiritual Ears to Appreciate it
Alphonse Karr heard a gardener ask his master permission to sleep for the future in the stable; "for," said he, "there is no possibility of sleeping in the chamber behind the greenhouse, sir; there are nightingales there which do nothing but guggle, and keep up a noise all the night." The sweetest sounds are but an annoyance to those who have no musical ear; doubtless the music of heaven would have no charms to carnal minds, certainly the joyful sound of the gospel is unappreciated so long as men's ears remain uncircumcised.
GOSPEL—Nothing else will Satisfy
Take away a toy from a child, and give him another, and he is satisfied; but if he be hungry no toy will do. As newborn babes, true believers desire the sincere milk of the Word; and the desire of grace in this way is grace.—John Newton.
GOSPEL—should be Preached Constantly When Le Tourneau preached the Lent sermon at St. Benoit, at Paris, Louis XIV. enquired of Boileau, "if he knew anything of a preacher called Le Tourneau, whom everybody was running after?" "Sire," replied the poet, "your Majesty knows that people always run after novelties; this man preaches the gospel." Boileau's remark as to the novelty of preaching the gospel in his time, brings to mind the candid confession of a Flemish preacher, who, in a sermon delivered before an audience wholly of his own order, said, "We are worse than Judas; he sold and delivered his Master, we sell him too, but deliver him not."
GOSPEL—to be Preached Simply Of the works of a famous alchymist of the thirteenth century, it is said that, "whoever would read his book to find out the secret would employ all his labour in vain." AH the gold makers who have written upon their favourite mystery are in the like predicament, no one can comprehend what the secret is which they pretend to divulge. May we not shrewdly guess that if they had any secret to tell they would put it in intelligible language, and that their pompous and involved sentences are only a screen for their utter ignorance of the matter? When we hear preachers talking of divine things in a style savouring more of metaphysical subtlety than of gospel plainness; when the seeking sinner cannot find out the way of salvation because of their philosophical jargon, may we not with justice suspect that the preacher does not know the gospel, and conceals his culpable ignorance behind the veil of rhetorical magniloquence? Surely if the man understood a matter so important to all his hearers as the way of salvation, he would feel constrained to tell it out in words which all might comprehend.
GOSPEL (Simple)—the Need of the Wisest
During an illness, that illustrious scholar Bengel sent for a student in the Theological Institution, and requested him to impart a word of consolation. The youth replied, "Sir, I am but a pupil, a mere learner; I don't know what to say to a teacher like you." "What!" said Bengel, "a divinity student, and not able to communicate a word of scriptural comfort!" The student, abashed, contrived to utter the text, "The blood of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, cleanseth us from all sin." "That is the very word I want," said Bengel, "it is quite enough," and taking him affectionately by the hand dismissed him.
GRACE
Payson, when dying, expressed himself with great earnestness respecting the grace of God as exercised in saving lost men, and seemed particularly affected that it should be bestowed on one so ill-deserving as himself. "Oh, how sovereign! Oh, how sovereign! Grace is the only thing that can make us like God. I might be dragged through heaven, earth, and hell, and I should be still the same sinful, polluted wretch, unless God himself should renew and cleanse me."
GRACE—Equal to our Day
Whenever the Lord sets his servants to do extraordinary work he always gives them extraordinary strength; or if he puts them to unusual suffering he gives them unusual patience. When we enter upon war with some petty New Zealand chief, our troops expect to have their charges defrayed, and accordingly we pay them gold by thousands, as their expenses may require; but when an army marches against a grim monarch, in an unknown country, who has insulted the British flag, we pay, as we know to our cost, not by thousands but by millions. And thus, if God calls us to common and ordinary trials, he will defray the charges of our warfare by thousands, but if he commands us to an unusual struggle with some tremendous foe, he will discharge the liabilities of our war by millions, according to the riches of his grace in which he has abounded towards us through Christ Jesus.
GRACE—Maturity in
Maturity in grace makes us willing to part with worldly goods; the green apple needs a sharp twist to separate it from the bough; but the ripe fruit parts readily from the wood. Maturity in grace makes it easier to part with life itself; the unripe pear is scarcely beaten down with much labour; while its mellow companion drops readily into the hand with the slightest shake. Rest assured that love to the things of this life, and cleaving to this present state, are sure indications of immaturity in the divine life.
GRACES—should be Seasonable
It is said in praise of the tree planted by the rivers of water, that it bringeth forth its fruit in its season; good men should aim to have seasonable virtues. For instance, a forgiving spirit is golden if it display itself in the moment when an injury is received; it is but silver if it show itself upon speedy reflection, and it is mere lead if it be manifested after a long time for cooling. The whole matter reminds us of the Warwickshire estimate of swarms of bees.
"A swarm of bees in May Is worth a load of hay; A swarm of bees in June Is worth a silver spune (spoon); A swarm of bees in July Is not worth a fly."
GRACE—Triumphant over Trial
"In one place near the Hospice of St. Bernard, I met with a curious natural conservatory. The under surface of the snow having been melted by the warmth of the soil, which in Alpine regions is always markedly higher than that of the air, was not in contact with it. A snowy vault was thus formed, glazed on the top with thin plates of transparent ice; and here grew a most lovely cushion of the Aretia Helvetica, covered with hundreds of its delicate rosy flowers, like a miniature hydrangea blossom. The dark colour of the soil favoured the absorption of heat; and, prisoned in its crystal cave, this little fairy grew and blossomed securely from the very heart of winter, the unfavourable circumstances around all seeming so many ministers of good, increasing its strength, and enhancing its loveliness." This delightful little sketch of nature by Mr. Hugh Macmillan may be paralleled in the kingdom of grace; for in the cold shade of poverty, protected from a thousand temptations by that very scant, and in the centre of sinful society, stimulated to a bolder confession by the surrounding opposition, we have met with the rarest specimens of grace. Where every influence appeared to be deadly, the most vigorous spiritual life has been produced.
GRATITUDE
There is a very touching little story told of a poor woman with two children, who had not a bed for them to lie upon, and scarcely any clothes to cover them. In the depth of winter they were nearly frozen, and the mother took the door of a cellar off the hinges, and set it up before the corner where they crouched down to sleep, that some of the draught and cold might be kept from them. One of the children whispered to her, when she complained of how badly off they were, "Mother, what do those dear little children do who have no cellar door to put up in front of them?" Even there, you see, the little heart found cause for thankfulness.
GROWTH IN GRACE
We have the likenesses of our boys taken on every birthday, and twelve of the annual portraits are now framed in one picture, so that we see them at a glance from their babyhood to their youth. Suppose such photographic memorials of our own spiritual life had been taken and preserved, would there be a regular advance, as in these boys, or should we still have been exhibited in the perambulator? Have not some grown awhile, and then suddenly dwarfed? Have not others gone back to babyhood? Here is a wide field for reflection.
GROWTH IN GRACE
Lettuces, radishes, and such like garden crops, are soon out of the ground and ready for the table, a month almost suffices to perfect them; but an oak requires long centuries to come to the fulness of its growth. Those graces which are most precious and durable will cost us longest to produce; those good things which spring up hastily may have some transient worth about them, but we cannot look for permanence and value in them. There is no need to deplore the slowness of our spiritual growth, if that which comes of it be of a solid character.
GROWTH IN GRACE The vendors of flowers in the streets of London, are wont to commend them to customers by crying, "All a blowing and a growing." It would be no small praise to Christians if we could say as much for them, but, alas! of too many professors the cry would truthfully be, "All a stunting and a withering."
GRUMBLERS A heavy waggon was being dragged along a country lane by a team of oxen. The axle-trees groaned and creaked terribly, when the oxen turning round, thus addressed the wheels:—"Halloa, there! why do you make so much noise? we bear all the labour, and we, not you, ought to cry out!" Those complain first in our churches who have least to do. The gift of grumbling is largely dispensed among those who have no other talents, or who keep what they have wrapped up in a napkin.