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May 1931
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K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
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Trust Him i had graduated from college and theological sem inary, but I had never seen any one die. It was my first week in a parish. A messenger came with the word: “Father Junkins is dying, and he wants to see you, pastor.” What could I do? The man reported dying was eighty-seven years of age—the outstanding Christian of the village. I started at once for his home, but I went with fear and trembling, for I had no message. I kept pray ing, “O God, give me a mes sage for this dying saint.” Upon entering his room,
year succeeds another ; but the poor lad is wholly occupied with the gyrations of his toy. Likely, in his dim .con sciousness, some of his efforts are found to be more successful than others. He has some good days and some- bad ones. But the range of his thought and feeling is limited by his toy, and even from his viewpoint, his efforts must be pathetiçally incomplete and disappointing. If there is no deeper thought in life than what appears to the sensationalist and the worldling, and no greater purpose in life than just to live, that idiot boy, enthusias
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tically spinning his top, is à startling picture of the hu man race. Our tops differ endlessly in size and character. Some have more gilt on them than others.L Some ; are s'trëakëd w ith raiitbow colors of plenty, while o thers are rough hewn in need. 'Some go to sleep on marble pave ments, while others stagger on to cruel ground. Some spin noiselessly, while the hum of o the rs is heard around the world. But it amounts to much the same thing. Life is exhausted by us all in a strangely inader quate task. It is at best ex asperating emptiness. Those
Our Faithful God Shall He, beneath whose everlasting wing We have sought shelter, e’er forget usf Yes, When the neglectful sea forgets its tides, Or skies grow wqary of their glorious stars, Or the sun trips in mid-air and rushes off Into the distance of oblivious space —- Then we may be forgotten; nay, not then, Not even then; let all the universe Break loose or crumble into ancient dust, There still remains the constant love of God. No flux of tide in that eternal love; Always the same—a calm, unchanging sea, Which never knew a shipwreck or a storm. •.—/ / oratius Bonar.
he said, “Oh, pastor, I am dying! For years I have been feasting on the prom ises of God, but this morn ing, when I woke up, I could not remember one of them! What shall I do?” Then God gave me an an swer which, after visiting the bedsides of scores of dying saints during forty years, I cannot improve. I said to him, “Father Junkins, do you think GOD will forget any of His promises?” I shall always remember the sweet smile that came over the face of the ,old saint
who know not God in Jesus Christ are deeply discontented. The question that has been so eargerly discussed-—Is life worth living ?—is a question urged by unspiritual men ; and the temper in which they ask and answer the question reveals painful dissatisfaction with themselves and with things as they are. The discontent of their intellect drives them to accuse the world of irrationality. The discontent of their heart utters itself in cynicism. The discontent of their passions expresses itself in satiety. The discon tent of their conscience is revealed in pessimism and des pair. And if this life were all, we ought to be discon tented. If it were all, human discontent would be the only rational thing in the universe. With infinite travail, we keep our top spinning for sixty or seventy years. When its hum dies into the silence of the grave, what profit have we for all the labor that we have “wrought under the su,n” ? But this life means something for the man who has the Lord Jesus Christ. The “unintelligible world” is much -more intelligible to him. He does not feel the dis tressing thought of the uselessness of life; he does not.' suffer from the diseased indifference naturally bred o f the theory that all things are vain; and he is not par alyzed by the spectacle of the world’s suffering. Jesus Christ answers his questions, meets his needs, makes pos-
as he looked up at me. “Praise God,” he said, “that is wonderful! He’ll remember them, won’t He ?” I began to repeat promises, but in a few minutes he said, “I ’m tired. I ’ll just fall asleep and trust Him to remember His precious promises to me.” In a few hours he had gone home to be with the Promiser. The promises of God are wonderful. How we revel in them! But our Lord Himself is more wonderful than His promises. We are often stirred and thrilled while we sing, “I ’m standing on the promises of God.” But what a quiet peafce comes over us when we are content to rest our tired bodies and minds on H im ! “Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him.” To Live Is Christ The need of the world is not more men, but more man. It is Christ in him that makes a man. If we are to regard the universe as rational, and human life as serious and satisfactory, personal acquaintanceship and fellowship with our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ is essential. The fibers of our being need to be locked and interlocked with the fibers of His being. Then, through His work ing and power in us, wonderful things will be produced. Yonder is a young man, weak in intellect, who spends His days spinning a top. The seasons come and go; one
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