NUGGETS
pronounced. He was to kill his own lather. “ Now, the day of the execution has come and the throngs jam the square where the unhappy event is to take place. The scene that meets the eyes is one of the grimmest spine-chilling accounts, for there in the center of the mob . . . is a traditional scaffold with its block and broad axe. Now, I see the father and son are being brought in . . . and the elderly man kneels, placing his. head upon the wooden block, awaiting the fatal stroke. Now, the son, with pale face and wild look, seizes the axe and lifts it with trembling hand. He begins to bring it down . . . but no . . . wait a minute . . . he tosses the axe to the ground and throws himself at his fa ther’s side . . . and shouts . . . ‘We die together. We die together!’ Lis ten, the crowd is going wild . . .al ready they have been at the highest pitch . . . and demands are now being made for the release of these men.” In response to the demands of the people, the government ordered the immediate release of the two, and later through the years sculptors made the memorials in bronze in their honor. The Bible says . . . “ Greater love than this hath no man, than a man lay down his life for his friend. . . . But God commendeth His love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners . . . Christ died for us.” The Anvil of God ’s W ord Last eve I paused beside the black smith’s door And heard the anvil ring the vesper chime; Then looking in, I saw upon the floor, Old hammers worn with beating years of time. “How many arwils have you had,” said I, “ To wear and batter all these ham mers so?” “Just one,” said he, and then, with twinkling eyes, “ The anvil wears the hammers out, you know.” “And so,” I thought, “ the anvil of God’s Word For ages sceptic blows have beat upon Yet, though the noise of falling blows was heard, “ The anvil is unharmed, the ham mers gone.” * * * * * When you brood over your troubles you hatch despair. A blunt word often has a sharp edge. ♦ ♦ * * *
Resolved “ Tomorrow he promised his con science; tomorrow I mean to believe; Tomorrow, I’ll think as I ought to; tomorrow my Saviour receive; Tomorrow I’ll conquer the habits that hold me from heaven away, But ever his conscience repeated one word, and one only; “ Today.” Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow ■—- thus day after day it went on; Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow ffy. till youth like a vision was gone; Till age and his passions had written the message of fate on his brow; And forth from the shadows came Death, with pitiless syllable, “Now” . What will you do with Jesus, the call comes low and clear, The solemn words are sounding, Now, in your listening ear. Immortal life’s in the question, and fay through eternity. Then what w ill you do with Jesus? Oh, what will your answer be? * * * * * Those individuals who look down on their neighbors usually live on a bluff. * * * * * Melody in "F" Feeling footloose and frisky, a feather-brained fellow forced his fond father to fork over the.farthings. He flew far to foreign fields and frittered his fortune, feasting fabulously with faithless friends. Finally facing famine and fleeced by his fellows-in-folly, he found him self a feed flinger in a filthy farm yard. Fairly famishing he fain would have filled his frame with foraged foods from the foder fragments. “ Fooey; my father’s flunkies fare far fancier,” the frazzled fugitive found feverishly frankly facing facts. Frustrated by failure and filled with foreboding, he fled forthwith to his family. Falling at his father’s feet, he floundered forlornly, “ Father, I have flunked and fruitlessly forfeited family favor . . .” But the faithful father, forestalling further flinching, frantically flagged the flunkies to fetch forth the finest fatling and fix a feast. The fugitive’s fault-finding frater frowned on the fickle forgiveness of former folderol. His fury flashed — but fussing was futile. The farsighted father, figured, “ Such filial fidelity is fine, but what forbids fervent festivity — for the fugitive is found! Unfurl the flags. With fanfares flaring, let fun and frolic freely flow. Former failure is forgotten, folly forsaken. Forgiveness forms the foundation for future forti tude.
Whiter Than Snow O for a heart that is whiter than snow! Kept, ever kept ’neath the life-giving flow; Cleansed from all passion, self-seeking and pride, Washed in the fountain of Calvary’s tide. O for a heart whiter than snow! Saviour divine, to whom else can I go? Thou who didst die, loving me so, Give me a heart that is whiter than snow. 0 for a heart that is whiter than snow. Calm in the peace that He loves to bestow; Daily refreshed by the Heavenly dews, Ready for service wheneter He shall choose. O for a heart that is whiter than snow! With the pure flame of the Spirit aglow; Filled with the love that is true and sincere, Till in His beauty my King I shall see. —E. E. Hewitt God calls men when they are busy . . . Satan when they are idle. LOVE O ver in the country of Belgium on one of the important bridges, there stand two bronze statues which represent the mutual love and affec tion of a father and his son who won the hearts of their countrymen. But previous to this time, because of po litical offense, both were condemned to die by the blade of the axe. How ever, the two were so popular with the p e o p l e t h a t th e government couldn’t find anyone to be the execu tioner. Then a strange proposition was made . . . one would have his life spared if he would be the executioner of the other. The proposal was accept ed, for the father and son- saw how that in so doing at least one person’s life could be spared. Of course, the son urged the father to accept the terms so that he could die happy knowing his parent’s life would be spared. But the father would not agree, urging his son himself to perform the ghastly duties. He spoke of his own life soon to end and how he wanted to see his son carry on bravely. Final ly, by deep pleadings and intreaties, the son consented. And sentence was
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JANUARY, 1959
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