you lost it. It won’t move an inch until you move it. I plead with you: go back and show God the place where you failed Him. Trust Him for full pardon. Having shown Elisha the place, the prophet cut down a stick and put it into the river at the very spot. As a result, the Bible tells us that the iron head floated. Yes, thank God there is a tree that will make your axe head swim. It is Calvary’s cross. As you come to Christ, God will restore all you have lost. Although help was given, the young man had to put forth his own hand to retrieve the instrument from the water. You see, after confession, there must be faith and obedience. Don’t throw away your handle. Eternity alone will re veal the many handles of possibility hopelessly swallowed up in the sea of the past. These handles God would remount for service. In closing, I ask, “Have you lost your axe head?” Do you say, “Where is the blessedness I knew when first I saw the Lord? How sweet these memories still are.” If this is your confession, this true biblical story assures you that you may be re stored, renewed, reinstated, and re equipped for the service of God. One of the most active places on the Biota Campus is the mail room and cashier's offices in the new Student Union Building. Pictured above is Mrs. Virginia Pugh, cashier, and Mr. James Harmon, mail clerk, as they carry on their dedicated duties at Biola. m\ | ■ n H r 1 H L ^ . - %
H IS P LAN FOR M E When I stand at the judgment seat of Christ, And He shows me His plan for me, The plan of my life as it might have been Had He had His way, and I see How I blocked Him here, and I checked Him there, And I would not yield my will— Will there be grief in my Saviour's eyes, Grief, though He loves me still? He would have me rich, and I stand there poor, Stripped of all but His grace, While memory runs like a hunted thing— Down the paths I cannot retrace. Then my desolate heart will well-nigh break With the tears that I cannot shed; I shall cover my face with my empty hands, I shall bow my uncrowned head. Lord of the years that are left to me, I give them to thy hand; Take me and break me, and mold me To the pattern Thou hast planned! — Martha Snell Nicholson THE CANDLE "M y candle shall be tall and white," I often said; "a lovely sight, The molded wax gardenia-pure, The wick strong-fashioned and secure, Then all who look at it will see My candle's splendid artistry." But in the darkness no one cared Until the hour when Christ the Lord Of everlasting mercy came And gave a golden-shining flame, Then oh, my candle was a bright Outreaching messenger of light. And now I wonder how I could Have hoped or wished that others should Admire my candle; and only pray That someone on the sin-dark way Shall see Christ's glory shining through My life, and find salvation, too! — Grace V. Watkins
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