T HE K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
826
Remember his text. It is true for yon. ‘‘Except ye repent, ye shall all like wise perish.” But God wants to hless you, and is calling you to come in all your sin to Him. He can righteously save you even now. His grace is going out after the lost today. Repent then and be con verted now. The day of grace is swiftly running to its close. If the Bible becomes irksome, inquire whether you have not been spoiling your appetite by sweet-meats. WHERE REAL PRAYER BEGINS All prayer begins in the heart of God. It comes into our hearts. Every thing you ever ask for He was planning to give before you thought about it, and He put into your heart the desire for that thing, and the prayer spirit to ask for it. It all begins yonder in God’s heart. It swings down to the human heart, and if it have only sway there, it swings back again, having done its work down on the circle of this world, which is intersected by the circle of prayer.—Selected. g)H[iHiuiMiiHininiuniniunuiNiiuiHununiuHiuiiiuHiiiniuiiuiutiiuiui!iHiHiiiuiniuiiniiiiiinHiuiuiiuiniiuiiinuiiuiiniiiniuiiliiu(iuiHiiuii|iiiiiuiinqiluiiiUiuiMiiiuiH^
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TH E N AM ELE SS BOOK
T is now some eighteen hundred years since there came into the world a hook under auspices modest enough. No prospectus was sent forth months ahead to announce the forthcoming sensation; no posters were urging the passer by to read the book, since every one else was reading it. It was not thrown into the lap of passengers in the railway coaches, nor were j pictures of its author displayed in the shop windows.
The Gladstones of those days wrote no lengthy reviews thereof. It was not dramatized for the stage, and was talked of neither at reception nor at club. So little stir did it make at its entrance | into the world of letters that the popular dry goods seller of the day did not deem it worthy of being made a premium for every dollar of hose disposed of. Softly, silently it came; like all that is great, like every true gift from the heavens, like the falling snow, like .the rays of the sun; yea, like the voice of Him that speaketh unto the heart of man neither in the thunder nor yet in | the earthquake, but in the still small voice. So softly indeed did this Book glide in that even unto this day, some eighteen centuries thereafter, no adequate name has yet been found therefor at the hands of men. As in its highest moments, the soul confesses before God that He is the Great Unspeakable, the Great Unnamable, so have men in their highest wisdom had to confess that this Book cannot be named, and it has ever since remained simply “ The Book”—The Bible. And yet this nameless Book somehow gets itself translated into every tongue, circulated in every clime; and read and studied, and lived by every age, every rank, and condition of life. I —Ivan Panin. 1
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